Chapter 12 Chapter XII Phileas Fogg and his company venture through the woods

In order to shorten the distance, the guide left aside the railway line under construction on the right.The railway, avoiding the branching Vindia mountains, could not be a straight cut, as Mr. Fogg would have liked.The Parsi is very familiar with the roads and byways here.He proposed to go through the forest, so as to save more than twenty miles of walking, and everyone agreed with him. Mr Fogg and Cromarty were seated in two saddle chairs, with only their heads protruding.Xiang Tong drives the elephant and tells it to run fast.The elephant took a quick trot, jolting the man in the saddle chair wildly.But they bore the jolt with British aplomb.Sometimes they had a chat or two, sometimes they just looked at each other.

As for that Passepartout who was lying on the back of the elephant and would be jolted up and down every time he took a step, he firmly remembered his master's advice and tried to avoid putting his tongue between the upper and lower rows of teeth, otherwise, if he didn't Be careful, you will bite off your tongue.The young man was thrown onto the elephant's neck for a while, and the buttocks for a while, back and forth, like a circus clown playing with a seesaw.But he still kept laughing and joking during the interval between flying and diving!From time to time he took out a candy from the bag, and while the clever Chiuni took it with the tip of his nose, he continued to walk quickly at the same speed without stopping.

After running for two hours, the guide stopped the elephant to rest for an hour.The elephant drank some water in a small pond nearby, and chewed some young tree buds and small shrub branches and leaves.Mr. Cromarty had no objection to such a nap, for he himself was overwhelmed.But Mr Fogg was still at ease, as if he had just gotten out of bed.The brigade commander looked at Fokke in amazement, and said: "What a tough guy." "Not of iron, but of steel!" continued Passepartout, preparing a simple breakfast. At noon, the guide gave the signal to leave.After walking for a short time, a wild scene appeared before my eyes.Immediately behind a large forest, there are clumps of ebony and palm trees.Further on is a large barren and barren plain.The plain is overgrown with brambles and trees, and among them are piles of granite.The whole district of Upper Benderhand, formerly a deserted place, is now inhabited by some fanatical religious peoples, who still retain the most terrible canons in the local area.The laws of British rule cannot be properly enforced in the sphere of influence of the earth king, and even less can they be governed in those inaccessible places in the Vindia mountains.

Along the way, several times they encountered a group of murderous Indians, looking at the galloping elephant and posing angrily.Parsis always try to avoid these people.He thought it was always bad luck to meet such people.During this day, wild animals were rarely seen along the way. Occasionally, a few hozens slid along while winking and making various strange faces.This made Passepartout very happy. But there is one thing that worries Passepartout very much, that is, what will Mr. Fogg do with this elephant when he comes to Allahabad in the future?Are you still taking it with you?This is absolutely impossible.For the price of the elephant plus shipping, this is a bankrupt guy!So, can it be sold?Or let it go?To tell the truth, this screaming elephant is really nostalgic.In case, unexpectedly, Mr. Fogg gave me Passepartout as a present, wouldn't it be hard for me?How can I not be troubled by Passepartout?

At eight o'clock in the evening they had crossed the main range of the Vendia Mountains.So they rested in a dilapidated hut on the north hillside. We had traveled about twenty-five miles that day, and we were still twenty-five miles from Allahabad. It was cold at night.Elephant Tong lit a pile of dead branches in the hut, and the heat from it was very popular with everyone.The content of dinner was the dry food bought in Kerby.The travelers, too, were so worn out that they ate their supper hastily.After the meal, they talked intermittently, and after a while, they snored loudly and fell asleep.The guide stands by the elephant.At this time the elephant also stood close to a big tree and fell asleep.

The night was safe and sound, except for the occasional howling of mountain leopards and the mourning of wild apes breaking through the silence of the night.In fact, these beasts are just barking by themselves, and they don't show any hostility to the travelers in the dilapidated house.Cromartie was asleep like a tired warrior, and Passepartout was restless, dreaming that he was somersaulting on the back of an elephant.As for Mr. Fogg, he slept as peacefully as he had in his quiet flat in Savile Street. At six o'clock the next morning they set off again.The guide hoped to reach Allahabad that very evening.In this way Mr. Fogg's forty-eight hours saved since his departure from London were only partially taken up.

They descended the last few slopes of the Vindia Hills, and the elephant broke into a gallop again.At noon, the guide bypassed Karangir on the banks of the Kani River, a tributary of the Ganges.The guide always avoided populated places. He felt that it would be safer to walk in this wilderness of the Ganges basin.Less than twelve miles to the northeast is Allahabad.They rested for a while under the shade of a clump of banana trees.Bananas are as good for you as bread, travelers appreciate them and say they are as nutritious as cheese. At two o'clock in the afternoon, the guide drove the elephant into the dense forest, through which he had to walk for several miles.He was happy to proceed this way under the cover of the forest.Anyway, no bad luck so far.It looked like the trip would have come to an end without incident, too.However, the elephant suddenly became restless and stopped.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon. "What's the matter?" asked Cromartti, poking his head out of the saddle chair. "I don't know, sir, either," replied the Parpassi, listening to a confused tumult of voices coming from the dense woods. After a while, the noise became more real. It sounded like a clamor intertwined with the shouts of the crowd and the beating of brass instruments, but it was far away. Passepartout listened with wide-eyed eyes.Mr. Fogg sat patiently and silently. The Parsis jumped down from the elephant, tied the elephant to a tree trunk, and burrowed into the dense bushes.After a few minutes he came running back and said:

"A procession of Brahmin monks is approaching us. Let's try to hide from them as much as possible." The guide untied the elephant, led it deep into the dense forest, and at the same time told the passengers not to come down to the ground.The elephant boy himself was ready to jump on the elephant and escape if necessary.However, he felt that this group of people would not notice them when they passed by, because the dense foliage in the woods completely concealed them. A noise made of loud human voices and the sound of gongs and drums is getting closer and closer.In the sound of drums and cymbals, there is also a monotonous singing voice.Presently the head of the procession appeared under the trees, only fifty paces from where Fogg and his companions were hiding.Through the boughs they saw quite distinctly the strange figures who took part in the religious ceremony.

At the head of the procession were some monks wearing pointed hats and flowered cassocks, surrounded by many men, women and children.They were singing dirges.The sound of singing and the percussion of gongs and cymbals alternates continuously.Behind the crowd, there is a cart with big wheels. The spokes and rims of the car are carved into poisonous snakes juxtaposed and crossed. On the cart is a statue of a goddess with a hideous face.In front of the cart are four camel oxen covered with colorful capes.This statue has four arms, a whole body of ocher red, disheveled hair, fierce eyes, a long tongue that looks like a hanged ghost, and two lips dyed red with henna and wild rice sauce.Around her neck was a necklace made of skulls, and around her waist was a belt made of severed hands.Standing majestically on a lying headless monster.

Cromarty recognized the statue.He whispered: "This is the goddess Kali, the goddess of love and death." "I agree that she is the god of death, but I never agree that she is the god of love!" said Passepartout. "She's just plain ugly!" The Parsee motioned Passepartout to stop chattering. Around the statue of the god, surrounded by a group of crazy old fakirs.Their bodies were painted with ochre-yellow stripes like zebras, and they had cross-shaped wounds from which blood flowed drop by drop.When grand religious ceremonies were held, these dervish monks, who were as crazy as they were possessed, even scrambled to lie under the wheels of the "Sun God" to die. Behind the dervishes, there are several Brahmin monks.They were all dressed in luxurious oriental-style monk robes, and they were pulling a staggering woman forward. The woman was very young, and her skin was as white as that of a European.On her head, on her neck, on her shoulders, on her ears, on her hips, on her fingers and toes: jeweled necklaces, bracelets, earrings and rings.She wears a gold embroidered bodice over a sheer sari that accentuates her figure and figure. Behind the young woman came several guards.In contrast, it looks even more murderous.They had unsheathed sabers pinned to their waists, long pistols inlaid with gold on their shoulders, and they were carrying a double palanquin on which lay a dead body.This is the corpse of an old man.As in his lifetime, he was dressed in the fine clothes of the earth king, with a turban adorned with pearls on his head, a silk robe embroidered with gold, and a fine woolen belt studded with precious stones around his waist. beautiful weapon. Then came the band and an army of fanatical believers.The sound of their shouts sometimes even drowned out the deafening sound of musical instruments, and the parade did not end until then. Mr Cromarty watched the passing group.With a very uncomfortable expression on his face, he turned to the guide and said: "Is that a widow's funeral?" The Parsi nodded, and put a finger to his lips, telling him to be silent.The long procession slowly moved forward.Not long after, the tail of the team also disappeared in the depths of the jungle. The singing gradually disappeared.In the distance, there were one or two bursts of shouting.That was the end of the uproar, followed by silence. Mr Fogg had heard what Cromarty had said.No sooner had the procession gone than he asked: "What happened to the widow's funeral?" "Mr. Fogg," replied the Brigadier, "a sacrificial offering is a sacrifice of a living person. But such sacrifices are made willingly. The woman you just saw will be burned at dawn tomorrow." ." "The rascals!" cried Passepartout, whose rage he could hardly contain. "Who is that dead body?" asked Fogg. "That is a land king, who is the woman's husband," replied the guide, "and he is an independent land king of Benderhand." "Why," continued Mr. Fogg, without emotion, "this barbarous custom is still maintained in India. Can't the British authorities stop it?" "There are no widow burials in most parts of India," Kromarati replied. "However, we can't control these deep mountains and old forests, especially in the territory of Bender Khandi. The entire area north of the Wendiya Mountains is a place where murders and robberies often occur." "Poor woman! Burn alive!" murmured Passepartout. "Yes! Burn alive," said the brigade commander again. "If she hadn't been buried, her relatives would have forced her into more miserable conditions than you can imagine. They would have shaved her head, sometimes given her a few dry rice balls, and sometimes driven her away. If she goes out, she will be regarded as a lowly woman from then on, and she will die in nowhere like a mangy dog. These widows have to be willingly killed because they think of such a terrible experience in the future. Burned to death. It is mainly this fear that motivates them to go to the burial, not love or religious belief. However, sometimes there are people who are willing to go to the burial, and it takes a lot of effort to stop them. A few years ago, It happened that I was in Bombay at the time, and a widow asked the Governor-General to allow her to be buried. Of course, you will guess, the Governor-General refused her request. The widow left Bombay and fled to an independent land. There. There her burial wish was granted." When the brigade commander said this, the guide shook his head again and again, and when he finished speaking, the guide said: "This woman who is going to be burned at dawn tomorrow, she is not willing." "Everyone in Bender Khand knows about this," said the guide. "But the poor woman doesn't seem to resist at all," said Cromarty. "It's because she's been passed out from the smoke of marijuana and opium!" "But where did they take her?" "Take her to the Temple of Piraji, which is two miles from here. Leave her there for the night, and burn her when she comes." "when?……" "Tomorrow, at dawn." When the guide had finished speaking, he led the elephant out of the depths of the jungle, and he himself climbed onto the elephant's neck.But when he was about to blow the elephant whistle to tell the elephant to go off, Mr. Fogg stopped him, and said to Cromarty: "Let's go save this woman, shall we?" "Save this woman! Mr. Fogg." The brigade commander said in surprise. "I still have twelve hours left to save her." "Why! You're such a warm person!" said Cromarty. "Sometimes yes," replied Fogg simply, "if I can."