The dwellers in Saville Row would have been surprised the next day, ifthey had been told that Phileas Fogg had returned home. His doors andwindows were still closed, no appearance of change was visible.

After leaving the station, Mr. Fogg gave Passepartout instructions topurchase some provisions, and quietly went to his domicile.

He bore his misfortune with his habitual tranquillity. Ruined! And bythe blundering of the detective! After having steadily traversed thatlong journey, overcome a hundred obstacles, braved many dangers, andstill found time to do some good on his way, to fail near the goal by asudden event which he could not have foreseen, and against which he wasunarmed; it was terrible! But a few pounds were left of the large sumhe had carried with him. There only remained of his fortune the twentythousand pounds deposited at Barings, and this amount he owed to hisfriends of the Reform Club. So great had been the expense of his tourthat, even had he won, it would not have enriched him; and it isprobable that he had not sought to enrich himself, being a man whorather laid wagers for honour's sake than for the stake proposed. Butthis wager totally ruined him.

Mr. Fogg's course, however, was fully decided upon; he knew whatremained for him to do.

A room in the house in Saville Row was set apart for Aouda, who wasoverwhelmed with grief at her protector's misfortune. From the wordswhich Mr. Fogg dropped, she saw that he was meditating some seriousproject.

Knowing that Englishmen governed by a fixed idea sometimes resort tothe desperate expedient of suicide, Passepartout kept a narrow watchupon his master, though he carefully concealed the appearance of sodoing.

First of all, the worthy fellow had gone up to his room, and hadextinguished the gas burner, which had been burning for eighty days.He had found in the letter-box a bill from the gas company, and hethought it more than time to put a stop to this expense, which he hadbeen doomed to bear.

The night passed. Mr. Fogg went to bed, but did he sleep? Aouda didnot once close her eyes. Passepartout watched all night, like afaithful dog, at his master's door.

Mr. Fogg called him in the morning, and told him to get Aouda'sbreakfast, and a cup of tea and a chop for himself. He desired Aoudato excuse him from breakfast and dinner, as his time would be absorbedall day in putting his affairs to rights. In the evening he would askpermission to have a few moment's conversation with the young lady.

Passepartout, having received his orders, had nothing to do but obeythem. He looked at his imperturbable master, and could scarcely bringhis mind to leave him. His heart was full, and his conscience torturedby remorse; for he accused himself more bitterly than ever of being thecause of the irretrievable disaster. Yes! if he had warned Mr. Fogg,and had betrayed Fix's projects to him, his master would certainly nothave given the detective passage to Liverpool, and then--

Passepartout could hold in no longer.

"My master! Mr. Fogg!" he cried, "why do you not curse me? It was myfault that--"

"I blame no one," returned Phileas Fogg, with perfect calmness. "Go!"

Passepartout left the room, and went to find Aouda, to whom hedelivered his master's message.

"Madam," he added, "I can do nothing myself--nothing! I have noinfluence over my master; but you, perhaps--"

"What influence could I have?" replied Aouda. "Mr. Fogg is influencedby no one. Has he ever understood that my gratitude to him isoverflowing? Has he ever read my heart? My friend, he must not beleft alone an instant! You say he is going to speak with me thisevening?"

"Yes, madam; probably to arrange for your protection and comfort inEngland."

"We shall see," replied Aouda, becoming suddenly pensive.

Throughout this day (Sunday) the house in Saville Row was as ifuninhabited, and Phileas Fogg, for the first time since he had lived inthat house, did not set out for his club when Westminster clock struckhalf-past eleven.

Why should he present himself at the Reform? His friends no longerexpected him there. As Phileas Fogg had not appeared in the saloon onthe evening before (Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter beforenine), he had lost his wager. It was not even necessary that he shouldgo to his bankers for the twenty thousand pounds; for his antagonistsalready had his cheque in their hands, and they had only to fill it outand send it to the Barings to have the amount transferred to theircredit.

Mr. Fogg, therefore, had no reason for going out, and so he remained athome. He shut himself up in his room, and busied himself putting hisaffairs in order. Passepartout continually ascended and descended thestairs. The hours were long for him. He listened at his master's door,and looked through the keyhole, as if he had a perfect right so to do,and as if he feared that something terrible might happen at any moment.Sometimes he thought of Fix, but no longer in anger. Fix, like all theworld, had been mistaken in Phileas Fogg, and had only done his duty intracking and arresting him; while he, Passepartout. . . . This thoughthaunted him, and he never ceased cursing his miserable folly.

Finding himself too wretched to remain alone, he knocked at Aouda'sdoor, went into her room, seated himself, without speaking, in acorner, and looked ruefully at the young woman. Aouda was still pensive.

About half-past seven in the evening Mr. Fogg sent to know if Aoudawould receive him, and in a few moments he found himself alone with her.

Phileas Fogg took a chair, and sat down near the fireplace, oppositeAouda. No emotion was visible on his face. Fogg returned was exactlythe Fogg who had gone away; there was the same calm, the sameimpassibility.

He sat several minutes without speaking; then, bending his eyes onAouda, "Madam," said he, "will you pardon me for bringing you toEngland?"

"I, Mr. Fogg!" replied Aouda, checking the pulsations of her heart.

"Please let me finish," returned Mr. Fogg. "When I decided to bringyou far away from the country which was so unsafe for you, I was rich,and counted on putting a portion of my fortune at your disposal; thenyour existence would have been free and happy. But now I am ruined."

"I know it, Mr. Fogg," replied Aouda; "and I ask you in my turn, willyou forgive me for having followed you, and--who knows?--for having,perhaps, delayed you, and thus contributed to your ruin?"

"Madam, you could not remain in India, and your safety could only beassured by bringing you to such a distance that your persecutors couldnot take you."

"So, Mr. Fogg," resumed Aouda, "not content with rescuing me from aterrible death, you thought yourself bound to secure my comfort in aforeign land?"

"Yes, madam; but circumstances have been against me. Still, I beg toplace the little I have left at your service."

"But what will become of you, Mr. Fogg?"

"As for me, madam," replied the gentleman, coldly, "I have need ofnothing."

"But how do you look upon the fate, sir, which awaits you?"

"As I am in the habit of doing."

"At least," said Aouda, "want should not overtake a man like you. Yourfriends--"

"I have no friends, madam."

"Your relatives--"

"I have no longer any relatives."

"I pity you, then, Mr. Fogg, for solitude is a sad thing, with no heartto which to confide your griefs. They say, though, that misery itself,shared by two sympathetic souls, may be borne with patience."

"They say so, madam."

"Mr. Fogg," said Aouda, rising and seizing his hand, "do you wish atonce a kinswoman and friend? Will you have me for your wife?"

Mr. Fogg, at this, rose in his turn. There was an unwonted light inhis eyes, and a slight trembling of his lips. Aouda looked into hisface. The sincerity, rectitude, firmness, and sweetness of this softglance of a noble woman, who could dare all to save him to whom sheowed all, at first astonished, then penetrated him. He shut his eyesfor an instant, as if to avoid her look. When he opened them again, "Ilove you!" he said, simply. "Yes, by all that is holiest, I love you,and I am entirely yours!"

"Ah!" cried Aouda, pressing his hand to her heart.

Passepartout was summoned and appeared immediately. Mr. Fogg stillheld Aouda's hand in his own; Passepartout understood, and his big,round face became as radiant as the tropical sun at its zenith.

Mr. Fogg asked him if it was not too late to notify the Reverend SamuelWilson, of Marylebone parish, that evening.

Passepartout smiled his most genial smile, and said, "Never too late."

It was five minutes past eight.

"Will it be for to-morrow, Monday?"

"For to-morrow, Monday," said Mr. Fogg, turning to Aouda.

"Yes; for to-morrow, Monday," she replied.

Passepartout hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him.