But, without all this poetic amplification, it is sufficient to say that Aouda, the widow of the rajah of Bundelcund, was a charming woman in the entire European acceptation of the phrase. She spoke English fluently and with great purity, and the guide had not exaggerated in asserting that this young Parsee woman had been transformed by education.
Meanwhile the train was about to leave Allahabad. The Parsee was waiting. Mr. Fogg paid him the compensation agreed upon, without exceeding it a farthing. This astonished Passepartout a little, who knew everything that his master owed to the devotion of the guide. The Parsee, in fact, had risked his life voluntarily in the affair at Pillaji; and if, later, the Hindoos should learn it, he would hardly escape their vengeance.
The question of Kiouni also remained. What would be done with an elephant bought so dearly?
But Phileas Fogg had already taken a resolution upon this point.
"Parsee," he said to the guide, "you have been serviceable and devoted. I have paid for your service, but not for your devotion. Do you wish this elephant? It is yours."
The eyes of the guide sparkled.
"Your honor is giving me a fortune!" he cried.
"Accept, guide," replied Mr. Fogg, "and I will be yet your debtor."
"Good!" cried Passepartout. "Take him, friend! Kiouni is a brave and courageous animal." And going to the brave he gave him some lumps of sugar, saying, "Here, Kiouni, here, here!"
The elephant uttered some grunts of satisfaction. Then taking Passepartout by the waist, and encircling him with his trunk, he raised him as high as his head. Passepartout, not at all frightened, caressed the animal, who replaced him gently on the ground, and to the shaking of the honest Kiouni's trunk there answered a vigorous shaking of the good fellow's hand.
A few moments after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passepartout, seated in a comfortable car, the best seat in which Aouda occupied, were running at full speed towards Benares. Eighty miles at the most separate
