Jules Verne

19 Königstrasse, one of the oldest streets in the oldest portion of the city of Hamburg.

young Virlandaise of seventeen, Martha, and myself. As his nephew and an orphan, I became his laboratory assistant.

which was al­ways flush.

coun­ten­ance

He began to ask him­self if this bet that Mr. Fogg talked about was not really in good earn­est, and whether his fate was not in truth for­cing him, des­pite his love of re­pose, around the world in eighty days!

Sir Fran­cis cor­rec­ted Passep­ar­tout’s time, whereupon the lat­ter made the same re­mark that he had done to Fix; and upon the gen­eral in­sist­ing that the watch should be reg­u­lated in each new me­ridian, since he was con­stantly go­ing east­ward, that is in the face of the sun, and there­fore the days were shorter by four minutes for each de­gree gone over, Passep­ar­tout ob­stin­ately re­fused to al­ter his watch, which he kept at Lon­don time.

The Parsee lit a fire in the bun­ga­low with a few dry branches, and the warmth was very grate­ful, pro­vi­sions pur­chased at Kholby suf­ficed for sup­per, and the trav­el­lers ate raven­ously.

He shut his eyes for an in­stant, as if to avoid her look. When he opened them again, “I love you!” he said, simply. “Yes, by all that is holi­est, I love you, and I am en­tirely yours!”

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

“A true Eng­lish­man doesn’t joke when he is talk­ing about so ser­i­ous a thing as a wager,” replied Phileas Fogg, sol­emnly.