本章主要表明斐利亚·福克围绕地球一周，除幸福以外，什么也没得到
是的，正是斐利亚·福克本人。
读者一定还记得，就在那天晚上八点零五分——也就是旅客们到达伦敦后大约二十五小时——福克先生派路路通去请塞缪尔·威尔逊牧师，安排第二天举行的婚礼。
路路通兴高采烈地去办这件事。他很快就到了牧师家，但发现牧师不在家。路路通等了足足二十分钟，当他离开牧师家时，已经是八点三十五分。但当时他是什么样子啊！头发蓬乱，没戴帽子，他以从未有过的速度在街上奔跑，撞倒行人，像水龙卷一样冲过人行道。
三分钟后他回到了萨维尔街，跌跌撞撞地冲进福克先生的房间。
他说不出话来。
“怎么了？”福克先生问。
“我的主人！”路路通气喘吁吁地说——“婚礼——不可能——”
“不可能？”
“不可能——在明天。”
“为什么？”
“因为明天——是星期天！”
“星期一，”福克先生回答。
“不——今天是星期六。”
“星期六？不可能！”
“是的，是的，是的，是的！”路路通喊道。“您算错了一天！我们提前二十四小时到达；但只剩十分钟了！”
路路通一把抓住主人的衣领，用不可抗拒的力量把他拉走。
斐利亚·福克就这样被绑架了，来不及思考，就离开了家，跳上一辆马车，答应给车夫一百英镑，在撞倒两条狗、掀翻五辆马车后，到达了改良俱乐部。
当他出现在大厅时，时钟显示八点四十五分。
斐利亚·福克已完成了八十天环球旅行！
斐利亚·福克赢了那两万英镑的赌注！
一个如此精确细致的人怎么会犯这种一天之差呢？他怎么会认为自己在十二月二十一日星期六到达伦敦，而实际上是十二月二十日星期五，离开后只有七十九天？
错误的原因很简单。
斐利亚·福克在不知不觉中在旅途中赢得了一天，这仅仅因为他一直向东旅行；相反，如果他朝相反的方向走，也就是向西走，他就会损失一天。
向东旅行时，他朝着太阳走，因此他的日子每向东走一度就减少四个分钟。地球的圆周有三百六十度；这三百六十度乘以四分钟正好是二十四小时——也就是无意中赢得的这一天。换句话说，当斐利亚·福克向东行驶，看到太阳经过子午线八十次时，他在伦敦的朋友只看到太阳经过子午线七十九次。这就是为什么他们在星期六，而不是像福克先生认为的那样，在星期天在改良俱乐部等他。
而路路通那个著名的家传表，一直保持着伦敦时间，如果它不仅能显示小时和分钟，还能显示日期，那么它就会揭露这个事实！
于是，斐利亚·福克赢了两万英镑；但是，由于他在路途中花了近一万九千英镑，经济上的收益很小。然而，他的目标是胜利，而不是赢钱。他把剩下的一千英镑分给了路路通和不幸的费克斯，他对费克斯并没有记仇。然而，为了井然起见，他从路路通的份额中扣除了在他房间里燃烧了九百二十小时的煤气费。
那天晚上，福克先生像往常一样平静而冷漠，对艾乌达说：“我们的婚事您还同意吗？”
“福克先生，”她回答道，“这应该由我来问您。您曾经破产，但现在您又富了。”
“请原谅，夫人；我的财产属于您。如果您没有提出我们的婚事，我的仆人就不会去塞缪尔·威尔逊牧师家，我就不会被告知我的错误，而且——”
“亲爱的福克先生！”年轻女子说。
“亲爱的艾乌达！”斐利亚·福克回答道。
不用说，婚礼在四十八小时后举行了，路路通容光焕发，光彩照人，负责把新娘交给新郎。难道不是他救了她吗？难道他不应该享有这份荣誉吗？
第二天，天一亮，路路通就使劲敲主人的门。福克先生打开门，问道：“怎么了，路路通？”
“什么事，先生？哦，我刚才发现——”
“什么？”
“我们本来可以在七十八天内环球旅行。”
“毫无疑问，”福克先生回答说，“如果不经过印度的话。但如果我没有经过印度，我就不会救出艾乌达；她就不会成为我的妻子，而且——”
福克先生平静地关上了门。
斐利亚·福克赢了他的赌注，并在八十天内完成了环球旅行。为此，他使用了各种交通工具——轮船、火车、马车、游艇、商船、雪橇、大象。这位古怪的绅士始终表现出了他冷静和精确的惊人品质。但那又怎样呢？他费了这么多周折，真正得到了什么？他从这漫长而疲惫的旅程中带回了什么？
什么都没有，你说？也许吧；除了一个迷人的女人，说来也怪，是她让他成为了最幸福的人！
说真的，难道你不会为了更少的东西而环游世界吗？
IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT PHILEAS FOGG GAINED NOTHING BY HIS TOUR
AROUND THE WORLD, UNLESS IT WERE HAPPINESS
Yes; Phileas Fogg in person.
The reader will remember that at five minutes past eight in the
evening—about five and twenty hours after the arrival of the travellers
in London—Passepartout had been sent by his master to engage the
services of the Reverend Samuel Wilson in a certain marriage ceremony,
which was to take place the next day.
Passepartout went on his errand enchanted. He soon reached the
clergyman’s house, but found him not at home. Passepartout waited a
good twenty minutes, and when he left the reverend gentleman, it was
thirty-five minutes past eight. But in what a state he was! With his
hair in disorder, and without his hat, he ran along the street as never
man was seen to run before, overturning passers-by, rushing over the
sidewalk like a waterspout.
In three minutes he was in Saville Row again, and staggered back into
Mr. Fogg’s room.
He could not speak.
“What is the matter?” asked Mr. Fogg.
“My master!” gasped Passepartout—“marriage—impossible—”
“Impossible?”
“Impossible—for to-morrow.”
“Why so?”
“Because to-morrow—is Sunday!”
“Monday,” replied Mr. Fogg.
“No—to-day is Saturday.”
“Saturday? Impossible!”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” cried Passepartout. “You have made a mistake of
one day! We arrived twenty-four hours ahead of time; but there are only
ten minutes left!”
Passepartout had seized his master by the collar, and was dragging him
along with irresistible force.
Phileas Fogg, thus kidnapped, without having time to think, left his
house, jumped into a cab, promised a hundred pounds to the cabman, and,
having run over two dogs and overturned five carriages, reached the
Reform Club.
The clock indicated a quarter before nine when he appeared in the great
saloon.
Phileas Fogg had accomplished the journey round the world in eighty
days!
Phileas Fogg had won his wager of twenty thousand pounds!
How was it that a man so exact and fastidious could have made this
error of a day? How came he to think that he had arrived in London on
Saturday, the twenty-first day of December, when it was really Friday,
the twentieth, the seventy-ninth day only from his departure?
The cause of the error is very simple.
Phileas Fogg had, without suspecting it, gained one day on his journey,
and this merely because he had travelled constantly _eastward;_ he
would, on the contrary, have lost a day had he gone in the opposite
direction, that is, _westward_.
In journeying eastward he had gone towards the sun, and the days
therefore diminished for him as many times four minutes as he crossed
degrees in this direction. There are three hundred and sixty degrees on
the circumference of the earth; and these three hundred and sixty
degrees, multiplied by four minutes, gives precisely twenty-four
hours—that is, the day unconsciously gained. In other words, while
Phileas Fogg, going eastward, saw the sun pass the meridian _eighty_
times, his friends in London only saw it pass the meridian
_seventy-nine_ times. This is why they awaited him at the Reform Club
on Saturday, and not Sunday, as Mr. Fogg thought.
And Passepartout’s famous family watch, which had always kept London
time, would have betrayed this fact, if it had marked the days as well
as the hours and the minutes!
Phileas Fogg, then, had won the twenty thousand pounds; but, as he had
spent nearly nineteen thousand on the way, the pecuniary gain was
small. His object was, however, to be victorious, and not to win money.
He divided the one thousand pounds that remained between Passepartout
and the unfortunate Fix, against whom he cherished no grudge. He
deducted, however, from Passepartout’s share the cost of the gas which
had burned in his room for nineteen hundred and twenty hours, for the
sake of regularity.
That evening, Mr. Fogg, as tranquil and phlegmatic as ever, said to
Aouda: “Is our marriage still agreeable to you?”
“Mr. Fogg,” replied she, “it is for me to ask that question. You were
ruined, but now you are rich again.”
“Pardon me, madam; my fortune belongs to you. If you had not suggested
our marriage, my servant would not have gone to the Reverend Samuel
Wilson’s, I should not have been apprised of my error, and—”
“Dear Mr. Fogg!” said the young woman.
“Dear Aouda!” replied Phileas Fogg.
It need not be said that the marriage took place forty-eight hours
after, and that Passepartout, glowing and dazzling, gave the bride
away. Had he not saved her, and was he not entitled to this honour?
The next day, as soon as it was light, Passepartout rapped vigorously
at his master’s door. Mr. Fogg opened it, and asked, “What’s the
matter, Passepartout?”
“What is it, sir? Why, I’ve just this instant found out—”
“What?”
“That we might have made the tour of the world in only seventy-eight
days.”
“No doubt,” returned Mr. Fogg, “by not crossing India. But if I had not
crossed India, I should not have saved Aouda; she would not have been
my wife, and—”
Mr. Fogg quietly shut the door.
Phileas Fogg had won his wager, and had made his journey around the
world in eighty days. To do this he had employed every means of
conveyance—steamers, railways, carriages, yachts, trading-vessels,
sledges, elephants. The eccentric gentleman had throughout displayed
all his marvellous qualities of coolness and exactitude. But what then?
What had he really gained by all this trouble? What had he brought back
from this long and weary journey?
Nothing, say you? Perhaps so; nothing but a charming woman, who,
strange as it may appear, made him the happiest of men!
Truly, would you not for less than that make the tour around the world?
