At half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhampore, and Passe-partout succeeded in obtaining a pair of slippers decorated with false pearls, which he wore with evident conceit.
The passengers ate a hurried breakfast, and the train again started for Assinghur, skirting for a moment the river Tapy, a small stream which flows into the Gulf of Cambay, near Surat.
It may now not be out of place to record Passe-partout's reflections. Until his arrival at Bombay he had cherished the idea that the journey would not be continued farther. But now that he was being carried across India he saw things in a different light. His old love of wandering returned in full force. The fantastic ideas of his youthful days came back to him again; he took his master's projects quite seriously; he began to believe in the wager, and consequently in the tour of the world to be completed in that maximum of eighty days which must not on any account be exceeded. Even now he was beginning to feel anxious about possible delays and accidents en route. He felt interested in winning, and trembled when he considered that he had actually compromised the whole thing by his stupidity on the previous day. So he was much more restless than Mr. Fogg, because less phlegmatic. He counted over and over again the days that had already passed since he had started, cursed at the stoppages at stations, found fault with the slow speed, and in his heart blamed Mr. Fogg for not having "tipped" the engine-driver. He quite overlooked the fact that, though such a thing was possible on board a steamer, it was out of question on a railroad where the time of the trains is fixed and the speed regulated.
Towards evening they penetrated the defiles of the mountains of
Sutpoor, which separate the territory of Khandeish from that of
Bundelcund.
Next day, the 22nd, Passe-partout replied, to a question of Sir Francis Cromarty, that it was three a.m., but, as a matter of fact, this wonderful watch was about four hours slow, as it was always kept at Greenwich time, which was then nearly seventy-seven degrees west, and the watch would of course get slower and slower.
Sir Francis corrected Passe-partout's time, respecting which he made a remark similar to that made by Mr. Fix. He endeavoured to convince the valet that he ought to regulate his watch by each new meridian, and as he was still going east the days became shorter and shorter by four minutes for every degree. But all this was useless. Whether the headstrong fellow understood the general or not, he certainly did not alter his watch, which was steadily kept at London time. At any rate it was a delusion which pleased him and hurt nobody.
At eight o'clock in the morning the train stopped about fifteen miles from Rothal, at a place where there were many bungalows and huts erected. The guard passed along the line, crying out, "All change here!"
Phileas Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty, who did not appear to understand this unexpected halt.
Passe-partout, not less astonished, leaped down, and in a moment or two returned, exclaiming, "There is no railway beyond this place, sir."
"What do you mean?" inquired Sir Francis.