1872年，白林敦花园坊赛微乐街七号（西锐登在1816年就死在这听住宅里），住着一位斐利亚·福克先生，这位福克先生似乎从来不做什么显以引人注目的事，可是他仍然是伦敦改良俱乐部里最特别、最引人注意的一个会员。
西锐登是一位为英国增光的伟大的演说家，继承他这听房子的福克先生却是一位令人捉摸不透的人物。关于福克先生的底细，人们只知道他是一位豪爽君子，一位英国上流社会里的绅士，其他就一点也不清楚了。
有人说他象拜伦——就是头象，至于脚可不象：他的脚并没有毛病，不过他的两颊和嘴上比拜伦多一点胡子，性情也比拜伦温和，就是活一千岁他大概也不会变样。
福克确实是个道地的英国人，但也许不是伦敦人。你在交易所里从来看不到他，银行里也见不着他，找遍伦敦商业区的任何一家商行也碰不上他。不论在伦敦的哪个港口，或是在伦敦的什么码头，从未停泊过船主名叫福克的船只。这位绅士也没有出席过任何一个行政管理委员会。不论在律师公会中，不论在伦敦四法学会的中院、内院、林肯院、或是格雷院,都从未听到过他的名字。此外,他从来也没有在官法庭、女皇御前审判厅、财政审计法院、教会法院这些地方打过官司。他既不开办工厂，也不经营、农业；他既不是搞说合的掮客，又不是做买卖的商人。他既未加入英国皇家学会，也未参加伦敦学会；既不是手工业者协会的成员，也不是罗素氏学会的会员；西方文学会里没有他的位置，法律学会里也没有他的名字；至于那仁慈的女皇陛下直接垂顾的科学艺术联合会眼他也毫无瓜葛。在英国的首都，自亚摩尼卡学会一直到以消灭害虫为宗旨的昆虫学会，有着许许多多这样大大小小的社会团体，而福克先生却不是其中任何一个团日体的成员。
福克先生就只是改良俱乐部的会员，瞧，和盘托出，仅此而已。如果有人以为象福克这样古怪的人，居然也能参加象改良俱乐部这样光荣的团体，因而感到惊讶的话，人们就会告诉他：福克是经巴林氏兄弟的介绍才被接纳入会的。他在巴林兄弟银行存了一笔款子，因而获得了信誉，因为他的账面上永远有存款，他开的支票照例总是“凭票即付”。
这位福克先生是个财主吗？毫无疑问，当然是的。可是他的财产是怎样来的呢？这件事就连消息最灵通的人也说不出个究竟，只有福克先生自己最清楚，要打听这件事，最好是问他本人。福克先生从来不挥霍浪费，但也不小气吝啬。无论什么地方，有什么公益或慈善事业缺少经费，他总是不声不响地拿出钱来，甚至捐了钱，还不让人知道自己的姓名。
总而言之，再也没有比这位绅士更不爱与人交往的了。他尽可能少说话，似乎由于沉默寡言的缘故，他的性格越显得稀奇古怪，然而他的生活是很有规律的，一举一动总是那样准确而有规律，老是一个样子。这就更加引起人们对他产生了奇怪的猜测和想象。
他曾出门旅行过吗？这也很可能。因为在世界地理方面，谁也没有他的知识渊博，不管什么偏僻地方，他似乎都非常熟悉，有时他用简单明了的几句话，就澄清了俱乐部中流传的有关某某旅行家失踪或迷路的众说纷坛的流言。他指出这些事件的真正可能性，他好象具有一种千里透视的天资，事情的最后结果，一般总是证实了他的见解都是正确的。这个人理应是个到处都去过的人——至少在精神上他是到处都去过的。
不管怎样，有一件事却是十分肯定的：多年以来，福克先生就没有离开过伦敦。那些比别人对他了解得稍微多一些的人也可以证明：除了看见他每天经过那条笔直的马路从家里到俱乐部去以外，没有人能说在任何其他地方曾经看见过他。
他唯一的消遣就是看报和玩“惠司脱”，这种安静的娱乐最合于他的天性。他常常赢钱，但赢来的钱决不塞入自己的腰包。这笔钱在他做慈善事业的支出预算中，占一个重要部分，此外还必须特别提出，这位绅士显然是为娱乐而打牌，并不是为了赢钱。对他来说，打牌可以说是一场比武，是一场对困难的角力：但这种角力用不着大活动，也用不着移动脚步，又不会引起疲劳。这完全适合于他的性格。
人们都知道福克先生没有妻子儿女（这种情况，对过分老实的人说来是可能的），也没有亲戚朋友（这种情况，事实上是极其少见的）。福克先生就是独自一个人生活在赛微乐街的寓所里，从来也没有看到有人来拜访他。关于他在家里的私生活，从来也没有人谈起过。他家里只用一个仆人。他午餐晚餐都在俱乐部里吃，他按时吃饭，就象钟表一般精确。他用餐的地方，老是在一个固定的餐厅里，甚至老是坐在一个固定的桌位上。他从没请过会友，也没招待过一个外客。晚上十二点正，他就回家睡觉，从没住过改良俱乐部为会员准备的舒适的卧室。一天二十四小时，他待在家里有十小时，要么就是睡觉，要么就是梳洗。他在俱乐部即便活动活动，也准是在那铺着镶花地板的过厅里，或是回廊上踱踱方步。这走廊上部装着蓝花玻璃的拱顶，下面撑着二十根红云斑石的希腊爱奥尼式的圆柱子。不论是晚餐午餐，俱乐部的厨房、菜肴贮藏柜、食品供应处、鲜鱼供应处和牛奶房总要给他送来味道鲜美、营养丰富的食品；那些身穿黑礼服、脚登厚绒软底鞋、态度庄重的侍者，总要给他端上一套别致的器皿，放在萨克斯出产的花纹漂亮的桌布上；俱乐部保存的那些式样古朴的水晶杯，也总要为他装满西班牙白葡萄酒、葡萄牙红葡萄酒或是掺着香桂皮、香蕨和肉桂的粉红葡萄酒；为了保持饮料清凉可口，最后还给他送来俱乐部花了很大费用从美洲的湖泊里运来的冰块。
如果过这样生活的人就算是古怪，那也应该承认：这种古怪却也自有它的乐趣。
赛微乐街的住宅并不富丽堂皇，但却十分舒适。因为主人的生活习惯永远没有变化，所以需要佣人做的事也就不多。但是福克先生要求他仅有的一个仆人在日常工作中一定要按部就斑，准确而又有规律。就在10月2日那一天，福克先生辞退了他的仆人詹姆斯·伏斯特，他被辞退的原因仅仅是：他本来应该替主人送来华氏八十六度剃胡子用的热水，但他送来的却是华氏八十四度的热水。现在伏斯特正在等候来接替他的新仆人。这人应该十一点到十一点半之间来。
福克先生四平八稳地坐在安乐椅上，双脚并拢得象受检阅的士兵一样，两手按在膝盖上，挺着身子，昂着脑袋，全神贯注地看着挂钟指针在移动——这只挂钟是一种计时，计分，计秒，计日，计星期，计月，又计年的复杂机器。按照他每天的习惯，钟一敲十一点半，他就离家到改良俱乐部去。
就在这时候，福克先生在小客厅里听到外面有人敲门。
被辞退的那个詹姆斯·伏斯特走了进来。
“新佣人来了。”他说。
一个三十来岁的小伙子走了进来，向福克先生行了个礼。
“你是法国人吗？你叫约翰吗？”福克先生问。
“我叫若望，假使老爷不反对的话，”新来的仆人回答说，“路路通是我的外号。凭这个名字，可以说明我天生就有精于办事的能耐。先生，我自信还是个诚实人，但是说实在话我干过很多种行业了。我作过闯江湖的歌手，当过马戏班的演员，我能象雷奥达一样在悬空的秋千架上飞腾，我能象布龙丹一样在绳索上跳舞；后来，为了使我的才能更发挥作用，我又当过体育教练。最后，我在巴黎作班长，在这一段经历中，我还救过几场惊险的火灾呢。可是，到现在我离开法国已经五年了。因为我想尝尝当管家的生活滋味，所以才在英国当亲随佣人。如今我没有工作，知道您福克先生是联合王国里最讲究准确、最爱安静的人，所以就上您这儿来了，希望能在您府上安安静静地吃碗安稳饭，希望能忘记以往的一切，连我这个名字路路通也忘……”
“路路通这个名字倒满合我的口味，”主人回答说，“别人已经向我介绍过你的情况。我知道你有很多优点。你可知道在我这里工作的条件吗？”
“知道，先生。”
“那就好，现在你的表几点？”
路路通伸手从裤腰上的表口袋里掏出一只大银表，回答说：
“十一点二十二分。”
“你的表慢了，”福克先生说。
“请您别见怪，先生，我的表是不会慢的。”
“你的表慢了四分钟。不过不要紧，你只要记住所差的时间就行了。好吧，从现在算起，1872年10月2号星期三上午十一时二十九分开始，你就是我的佣人了。”
说罢，福克先生站起身来，左手拿起帽子，用一种机械的动作把帽子往头上一戴，一声不响地就走了。
路路通听到大门头一回关起来的声音：这是他的新主人出去了。不一会儿，又听见大门第二回关起来的声音：这是原先的仆人詹姆斯·伏斯特出去了。
现在赛微乐街的寓所里只剩下路路通一个人了。
Mr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1814. He was one of the most noticeable members of the Reform Club, though he seemed always to avoid attracting attention; an enigmatical personage, about whom little was known, except that he was a polished man of the world. People said that he resembled Byron--at least that his head was Byronic; but he was a bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a thousand years without growing old.
Certainly an Englishman, it was more doubtful whether Phileas Fogg was a Londoner. He was never seen on 'Change, nor at the Bank, nor in the counting-rooms of the "City"; no ships ever came into London docks of which he was the owner; he had no public employment; he had never been entered at any of the Inns of Court, either at the Temple, or Lincoln's Inn, or Gray's Inn; nor had his voice ever resounded in the Court of Chancery, or in the Exchequer, or the Queen's Bench, or the Ecclesiastical Courts. He certainly was not a manufacturer; nor was he a merchant or a gentleman farmer. His name was strange to the scientific and learned societies, and he never was known to take part in the sage deliberations of the Royal Institution or the London Institution, the Artisan's Association, or the Institution of Arts and Sciences. He belonged, in fact, to none of the numerous societies which swarm in the English capital, from the Harmonic to that of the Entomologists, founded mainly for the purpose of abolishing pernicious insects.
Phileas Fogg was a member of the Reform, and that was all.
The way in which he got admission to this exclusive club was simple enough.
He was recommended by the Barings, with whom he had an open credit. His cheques were regularly paid at sight from his account current, which was always flush.
Was Phileas Fogg rich? Undoubtedly. But those who knew him best could not imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fogg was the last person to whom to apply for the information. He was not lavish, nor, on the contrary, avaricious; for, whenever he knew that money was needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it quietly and sometimes anonymously. He was, in short, the least communicative of men. He talked very little, and seemed all the more mysterious for his taciturn manner. His daily habits were quite open to observation; but whatever he did was so exactly the same thing that he had always done before, that the wits of the curious were fairly puzzled.
Had he travelled? It was likely, for no one seemed to know the world more familiarly; there was no spot so secluded that he did not appear to have an intimate acquaintance with it. He often corrected, with a few clear words, the thousand conjectures advanced by members of the club as to lost and unheard-of travellers, pointing out the true probabilities, and seeming as if gifted with a sort of second sight, so often did events justify his predictions. He must have travelled everywhere, at least in the spirit.
It was at least certain that Phileas Fogg had not absented himself from London for many years. Those who were honoured by a better acquaintance with him than the rest, declared that nobody could pretend to have ever seen him anywhere else. His sole pastimes were reading the papers and playing whist. He often won at this game, which, as a silent one, harmonised with his nature; but his winnings never went into his purse, being reserved as a fund for his charities. Mr. Fogg played, not to win, but for the sake of playing. The game was in his eyes a contest, a struggle with a difficulty, yet a motionless, unwearying struggle, congenial to his tastes.
Phileas Fogg was not known to have either wife or children, which may happen to the most honest people; either relatives or near friends, which is certainly more unusual. He lived alone in his house in Saville Row, whither none penetrated. A single domestic sufficed to serve him. He breakfasted and dined at the club, at hours mathematically fixed, in the same room, at the same table, never taking his meals with other members, much less bringing a guest with him; and went home at exactly midnight, only to retire at once to bed. He never used the cosy chambers which the Reform provides for its favoured members. He passed ten hours out of the twenty-four in Saville Row, either in sleeping or making his toilet. When he chose to take a walk it was with a regular step in the entrance hall with its mosaic flooring, or in the circular gallery with its dome supported by twenty red porphyry Ionic columns, and illumined by blue painted windows. When he breakfasted or dined all the resources of the club--its kitchens and pantries, its buttery and dairy--aided to crowd his table with their most succulent stores; he was served by the gravest waiters, in dress coats, and shoes with swan-skin soles, who proffered the viands in special porcelain, and on the finest linen; club decanters, of a lost mould, contained his sherry, his port, and his cinnamon-spiced claret; while his beverages were refreshingly cooled with ice, brought at great cost from the American lakes.
If to live in this style is to be eccentric, it must be confessed that there is something good in eccentricity.
The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was exceedingly comfortable. The habits of its occupant were such as to demand but little from the sole domestic, but Phileas Fogg required him to be almost superhumanly prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of October he had dismissed James Forster, because that luckless youth had brought him shaving-water at eighty-four degrees Fahrenheit instead of eighty-six; and he was awaiting his successor, who was due at the house between eleven and half-past.
Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet close together like those of a grenadier on parade, his hands resting on his knees, his body straight, his head erect; he was steadily watching a complicated clock which indicated the hours, the minutes, the seconds, the days, the months, and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr. Fogg would, according to his daily habit, quit Saville Row, and repair to the Reform.
A rap at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy apartment where Phileas Fogg was seated, and James Forster, the dismissed servant, appeared.
"The new servant," said he.
A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.
"You are a Frenchman, I believe," asked Phileas Fogg, "and your name is John?"
"Jean, if monsieur pleases," replied the newcomer, "Jean Passepartout, a surname which has clung to me because I have a natural aptness for going out of one business into another. I believe I'm honest, monsieur, but, to be outspoken, I've had several trades. I've been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault like Leotard, and dance on a rope like Blondin. Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics, so as to make better use of my talents; and then I was a sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a valet here in England. Finding myself out of place, and hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom, I have come to monsieur in the hope of living with him a tranquil life, and forgetting even the name of Passepartout."
"Passepartout suits me," responded Mr. Fogg. "You are well recommended to me; I hear a good report of you. You know my conditions?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Good! What time is it?"
"Twenty-two minutes after eleven," returned Passepartout, drawing an enormous silver watch from the depths of his pocket.
"You are too slow," said Mr. Fogg.
"Pardon me, monsieur, it is impossible--"
"You are four minutes too slow. No matter; it's enough to mention the error. Now from this moment, twenty-nine minutes after eleven, a.m., this Wednesday, 2nd October, you are in my service."
Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.
Passepartout heard the street door shut once; it was his new master going out. He heard it shut again; it was his predecessor, James Forster, departing in his turn. Passepartout remained alone in the house in Saville Row.
西锐登是一位为英国增光的伟大的演说家，继承他这听房子的福克先生却是一位令人捉摸不透的人物。关于福克先生的底细，人们只知道他是一位豪爽君子，一位英国上流社会里的绅士，其他就一点也不清楚了。
有人说他象拜伦——就是头象，至于脚可不象：他的脚并没有毛病，不过他的两颊和嘴上比拜伦多一点胡子，性情也比拜伦温和，就是活一千岁他大概也不会变样。
福克确实是个道地的英国人，但也许不是伦敦人。你在交易所里从来看不到他，银行里也见不着他，找遍伦敦商业区的任何一家商行也碰不上他。不论在伦敦的哪个港口，或是在伦敦的什么码头，从未停泊过船主名叫福克的船只。这位绅士也没有出席过任何一个行政管理委员会。不论在律师公会中，不论在伦敦四法学会的中院、内院、林肯院、或是格雷院,都从未听到过他的名字。此外,他从来也没有在官法庭、女皇御前审判厅、财政审计法院、教会法院这些地方打过官司。他既不开办工厂，也不经营、农业；他既不是搞说合的掮客，又不是做买卖的商人。他既未加入英国皇家学会，也未参加伦敦学会；既不是手工业者协会的成员，也不是罗素氏学会的会员；西方文学会里没有他的位置，法律学会里也没有他的名字；至于那仁慈的女皇陛下直接垂顾的科学艺术联合会眼他也毫无瓜葛。在英国的首都，自亚摩尼卡学会一直到以消灭害虫为宗旨的昆虫学会，有着许许多多这样大大小小的社会团体，而福克先生却不是其中任何一个团日体的成员。
福克先生就只是改良俱乐部的会员，瞧，和盘托出，仅此而已。如果有人以为象福克这样古怪的人，居然也能参加象改良俱乐部这样光荣的团体，因而感到惊讶的话，人们就会告诉他：福克是经巴林氏兄弟的介绍才被接纳入会的。他在巴林兄弟银行存了一笔款子，因而获得了信誉，因为他的账面上永远有存款，他开的支票照例总是“凭票即付”。
这位福克先生是个财主吗？毫无疑问，当然是的。可是他的财产是怎样来的呢？这件事就连消息最灵通的人也说不出个究竟，只有福克先生自己最清楚，要打听这件事，最好是问他本人。福克先生从来不挥霍浪费，但也不小气吝啬。无论什么地方，有什么公益或慈善事业缺少经费，他总是不声不响地拿出钱来，甚至捐了钱，还不让人知道自己的姓名。
总而言之，再也没有比这位绅士更不爱与人交往的了。他尽可能少说话，似乎由于沉默寡言的缘故，他的性格越显得稀奇古怪，然而他的生活是很有规律的，一举一动总是那样准确而有规律，老是一个样子。这就更加引起人们对他产生了奇怪的猜测和想象。
他曾出门旅行过吗？这也很可能。因为在世界地理方面，谁也没有他的知识渊博，不管什么偏僻地方，他似乎都非常熟悉，有时他用简单明了的几句话，就澄清了俱乐部中流传的有关某某旅行家失踪或迷路的众说纷坛的流言。他指出这些事件的真正可能性，他好象具有一种千里透视的天资，事情的最后结果，一般总是证实了他的见解都是正确的。这个人理应是个到处都去过的人——至少在精神上他是到处都去过的。
不管怎样，有一件事却是十分肯定的：多年以来，福克先生就没有离开过伦敦。那些比别人对他了解得稍微多一些的人也可以证明：除了看见他每天经过那条笔直的马路从家里到俱乐部去以外，没有人能说在任何其他地方曾经看见过他。
他唯一的消遣就是看报和玩“惠司脱”，这种安静的娱乐最合于他的天性。他常常赢钱，但赢来的钱决不塞入自己的腰包。这笔钱在他做慈善事业的支出预算中，占一个重要部分，此外还必须特别提出，这位绅士显然是为娱乐而打牌，并不是为了赢钱。对他来说，打牌可以说是一场比武，是一场对困难的角力：但这种角力用不着大活动，也用不着移动脚步，又不会引起疲劳。这完全适合于他的性格。
人们都知道福克先生没有妻子儿女（这种情况，对过分老实的人说来是可能的），也没有亲戚朋友（这种情况，事实上是极其少见的）。福克先生就是独自一个人生活在赛微乐街的寓所里，从来也没有看到有人来拜访他。关于他在家里的私生活，从来也没有人谈起过。他家里只用一个仆人。他午餐晚餐都在俱乐部里吃，他按时吃饭，就象钟表一般精确。他用餐的地方，老是在一个固定的餐厅里，甚至老是坐在一个固定的桌位上。他从没请过会友，也没招待过一个外客。晚上十二点正，他就回家睡觉，从没住过改良俱乐部为会员准备的舒适的卧室。一天二十四小时，他待在家里有十小时，要么就是睡觉，要么就是梳洗。他在俱乐部即便活动活动，也准是在那铺着镶花地板的过厅里，或是回廊上踱踱方步。这走廊上部装着蓝花玻璃的拱顶，下面撑着二十根红云斑石的希腊爱奥尼式的圆柱子。不论是晚餐午餐，俱乐部的厨房、菜肴贮藏柜、食品供应处、鲜鱼供应处和牛奶房总要给他送来味道鲜美、营养丰富的食品；那些身穿黑礼服、脚登厚绒软底鞋、态度庄重的侍者，总要给他端上一套别致的器皿，放在萨克斯出产的花纹漂亮的桌布上；俱乐部保存的那些式样古朴的水晶杯，也总要为他装满西班牙白葡萄酒、葡萄牙红葡萄酒或是掺着香桂皮、香蕨和肉桂的粉红葡萄酒；为了保持饮料清凉可口，最后还给他送来俱乐部花了很大费用从美洲的湖泊里运来的冰块。
如果过这样生活的人就算是古怪，那也应该承认：这种古怪却也自有它的乐趣。
赛微乐街的住宅并不富丽堂皇，但却十分舒适。因为主人的生活习惯永远没有变化，所以需要佣人做的事也就不多。但是福克先生要求他仅有的一个仆人在日常工作中一定要按部就斑，准确而又有规律。就在10月2日那一天，福克先生辞退了他的仆人詹姆斯·伏斯特，他被辞退的原因仅仅是：他本来应该替主人送来华氏八十六度剃胡子用的热水，但他送来的却是华氏八十四度的热水。现在伏斯特正在等候来接替他的新仆人。这人应该十一点到十一点半之间来。
福克先生四平八稳地坐在安乐椅上，双脚并拢得象受检阅的士兵一样，两手按在膝盖上，挺着身子，昂着脑袋，全神贯注地看着挂钟指针在移动——这只挂钟是一种计时，计分，计秒，计日，计星期，计月，又计年的复杂机器。按照他每天的习惯，钟一敲十一点半，他就离家到改良俱乐部去。
就在这时候，福克先生在小客厅里听到外面有人敲门。
被辞退的那个詹姆斯·伏斯特走了进来。
“新佣人来了。”他说。
一个三十来岁的小伙子走了进来，向福克先生行了个礼。
“你是法国人吗？你叫约翰吗？”福克先生问。
“我叫若望，假使老爷不反对的话，”新来的仆人回答说，“路路通是我的外号。凭这个名字，可以说明我天生就有精于办事的能耐。先生，我自信还是个诚实人，但是说实在话我干过很多种行业了。我作过闯江湖的歌手，当过马戏班的演员，我能象雷奥达一样在悬空的秋千架上飞腾，我能象布龙丹一样在绳索上跳舞；后来，为了使我的才能更发挥作用，我又当过体育教练。最后，我在巴黎作班长，在这一段经历中，我还救过几场惊险的火灾呢。可是，到现在我离开法国已经五年了。因为我想尝尝当管家的生活滋味，所以才在英国当亲随佣人。如今我没有工作，知道您福克先生是联合王国里最讲究准确、最爱安静的人，所以就上您这儿来了，希望能在您府上安安静静地吃碗安稳饭，希望能忘记以往的一切，连我这个名字路路通也忘……”
“路路通这个名字倒满合我的口味，”主人回答说，“别人已经向我介绍过你的情况。我知道你有很多优点。你可知道在我这里工作的条件吗？”
“知道，先生。”
“那就好，现在你的表几点？”
路路通伸手从裤腰上的表口袋里掏出一只大银表，回答说：
“十一点二十二分。”
“你的表慢了，”福克先生说。
“请您别见怪，先生，我的表是不会慢的。”
“你的表慢了四分钟。不过不要紧，你只要记住所差的时间就行了。好吧，从现在算起，1872年10月2号星期三上午十一时二十九分开始，你就是我的佣人了。”
说罢，福克先生站起身来，左手拿起帽子，用一种机械的动作把帽子往头上一戴，一声不响地就走了。
路路通听到大门头一回关起来的声音：这是他的新主人出去了。不一会儿，又听见大门第二回关起来的声音：这是原先的仆人詹姆斯·伏斯特出去了。
现在赛微乐街的寓所里只剩下路路通一个人了。
Mr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1814. He was one of the most noticeable members of the Reform Club, though he seemed always to avoid attracting attention; an enigmatical personage, about whom little was known, except that he was a polished man of the world. People said that he resembled Byron--at least that his head was Byronic; but he was a bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a thousand years without growing old.
Certainly an Englishman, it was more doubtful whether Phileas Fogg was a Londoner. He was never seen on 'Change, nor at the Bank, nor in the counting-rooms of the "City"; no ships ever came into London docks of which he was the owner; he had no public employment; he had never been entered at any of the Inns of Court, either at the Temple, or Lincoln's Inn, or Gray's Inn; nor had his voice ever resounded in the Court of Chancery, or in the Exchequer, or the Queen's Bench, or the Ecclesiastical Courts. He certainly was not a manufacturer; nor was he a merchant or a gentleman farmer. His name was strange to the scientific and learned societies, and he never was known to take part in the sage deliberations of the Royal Institution or the London Institution, the Artisan's Association, or the Institution of Arts and Sciences. He belonged, in fact, to none of the numerous societies which swarm in the English capital, from the Harmonic to that of the Entomologists, founded mainly for the purpose of abolishing pernicious insects.
Phileas Fogg was a member of the Reform, and that was all.
The way in which he got admission to this exclusive club was simple enough.
He was recommended by the Barings, with whom he had an open credit. His cheques were regularly paid at sight from his account current, which was always flush.
Was Phileas Fogg rich? Undoubtedly. But those who knew him best could not imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fogg was the last person to whom to apply for the information. He was not lavish, nor, on the contrary, avaricious; for, whenever he knew that money was needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it quietly and sometimes anonymously. He was, in short, the least communicative of men. He talked very little, and seemed all the more mysterious for his taciturn manner. His daily habits were quite open to observation; but whatever he did was so exactly the same thing that he had always done before, that the wits of the curious were fairly puzzled.
Had he travelled? It was likely, for no one seemed to know the world more familiarly; there was no spot so secluded that he did not appear to have an intimate acquaintance with it. He often corrected, with a few clear words, the thousand conjectures advanced by members of the club as to lost and unheard-of travellers, pointing out the true probabilities, and seeming as if gifted with a sort of second sight, so often did events justify his predictions. He must have travelled everywhere, at least in the spirit.
It was at least certain that Phileas Fogg had not absented himself from London for many years. Those who were honoured by a better acquaintance with him than the rest, declared that nobody could pretend to have ever seen him anywhere else. His sole pastimes were reading the papers and playing whist. He often won at this game, which, as a silent one, harmonised with his nature; but his winnings never went into his purse, being reserved as a fund for his charities. Mr. Fogg played, not to win, but for the sake of playing. The game was in his eyes a contest, a struggle with a difficulty, yet a motionless, unwearying struggle, congenial to his tastes.
Phileas Fogg was not known to have either wife or children, which may happen to the most honest people; either relatives or near friends, which is certainly more unusual. He lived alone in his house in Saville Row, whither none penetrated. A single domestic sufficed to serve him. He breakfasted and dined at the club, at hours mathematically fixed, in the same room, at the same table, never taking his meals with other members, much less bringing a guest with him; and went home at exactly midnight, only to retire at once to bed. He never used the cosy chambers which the Reform provides for its favoured members. He passed ten hours out of the twenty-four in Saville Row, either in sleeping or making his toilet. When he chose to take a walk it was with a regular step in the entrance hall with its mosaic flooring, or in the circular gallery with its dome supported by twenty red porphyry Ionic columns, and illumined by blue painted windows. When he breakfasted or dined all the resources of the club--its kitchens and pantries, its buttery and dairy--aided to crowd his table with their most succulent stores; he was served by the gravest waiters, in dress coats, and shoes with swan-skin soles, who proffered the viands in special porcelain, and on the finest linen; club decanters, of a lost mould, contained his sherry, his port, and his cinnamon-spiced claret; while his beverages were refreshingly cooled with ice, brought at great cost from the American lakes.
If to live in this style is to be eccentric, it must be confessed that there is something good in eccentricity.
The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was exceedingly comfortable. The habits of its occupant were such as to demand but little from the sole domestic, but Phileas Fogg required him to be almost superhumanly prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of October he had dismissed James Forster, because that luckless youth had brought him shaving-water at eighty-four degrees Fahrenheit instead of eighty-six; and he was awaiting his successor, who was due at the house between eleven and half-past.
Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet close together like those of a grenadier on parade, his hands resting on his knees, his body straight, his head erect; he was steadily watching a complicated clock which indicated the hours, the minutes, the seconds, the days, the months, and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr. Fogg would, according to his daily habit, quit Saville Row, and repair to the Reform.
A rap at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy apartment where Phileas Fogg was seated, and James Forster, the dismissed servant, appeared.
"The new servant," said he.
A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.
"You are a Frenchman, I believe," asked Phileas Fogg, "and your name is John?"
"Jean, if monsieur pleases," replied the newcomer, "Jean Passepartout, a surname which has clung to me because I have a natural aptness for going out of one business into another. I believe I'm honest, monsieur, but, to be outspoken, I've had several trades. I've been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault like Leotard, and dance on a rope like Blondin. Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics, so as to make better use of my talents; and then I was a sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a valet here in England. Finding myself out of place, and hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom, I have come to monsieur in the hope of living with him a tranquil life, and forgetting even the name of Passepartout."
"Passepartout suits me," responded Mr. Fogg. "You are well recommended to me; I hear a good report of you. You know my conditions?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Good! What time is it?"
"Twenty-two minutes after eleven," returned Passepartout, drawing an enormous silver watch from the depths of his pocket.
"You are too slow," said Mr. Fogg.
"Pardon me, monsieur, it is impossible--"
"You are four minutes too slow. No matter; it's enough to mention the error. Now from this moment, twenty-nine minutes after eleven, a.m., this Wednesday, 2nd October, you are in my service."
Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.
Passepartout heard the street door shut once; it was his new master going out. He heard it shut again; it was his predecessor, James Forster, departing in his turn. Passepartout remained alone in the house in Saville Row.
路路通开始觉得有点儿奇怪，自言自语地说：“说真的，我在杜叟太太家里看见的那些‘好好先生’跟我现在的这位主人简直没有一点差别！”
这儿应该交代一下：杜叟太太家里的那些“好好先生”是用蜡做的，在伦敦经常有很多人去欣赏。这种蜡人做得活象真的，就只差会说话罢了。
路路通在刚才和福克先生见面的短短几分钟里，就已经把他这位未来的主人又快又仔细地观察了一番。看来这人该有四十上下，面容清秀而端庄，高高的个儿虽然略微有点胖，但是并不因此损及他翩翩的风采。金褐色的头发和胡须，光溜平滑的前额，连太阳穴上也看不到一条皱纹。面色净白，并不红润，一口牙齿，整齐美观。他的个人修养显然很高，已经达到了如相士们所说的“虽动犹静”的地步。凡是“多做事，少扯淡”的人所具有的特点他都有。安详，冷静，眼皮一眨不眨，眼珠明亮有神，简直是那种冷静的英国人最标准的典型。这种人在联合王国里是司空见惯的。昂·高夫曼的妙笔，常把他们画成多少带点学究气的人物。从福克先生日常生活看来，人们有一种印象，觉得这位绅士的一举一动都是不轻不重，不偏不倚，恰如其分，简直象李罗阿或是伊恩萧的精密测时计一样准确。事实上，福克本人就是个准确性的化身，这一点从他两只手和两只脚的动作上就可以很清楚地看出来。因为人类的四肢，和其他动物的四肢一样，本身就是表达感情的器官。
福克先生是这样的一种人，生活按部就班，行动精密准确，从来不慌不忙，凡事总有准备，甚至连迈几步，动几动，都有一定的节制。福克先生从不多走一步路，走道总是抄最近的走。他决不无故地朝天花板看一眼，也不无故地做一个手势，他从来没有激动过，也从来没有苦恼过。他是世界上最不性急的人，但也从来没有因迟到而误过事。至于他生活孤独，甚至可以说与世隔绝，这一点，人们是会理解的。他觉得在生活中总要和别人交往，总会发生争执，这就会耽误事，因此，他从不与人交往，从不与人争执。
提起若望，他又叫路路通，是个土生土长的道地的巴黎人。他在英国待了五年，一直在伦敦给人当亲随佣人。但他始终没有找到过一个合适的主人。
路路通丝毫不是福龙丹、马斯加里勒那一流的人。他们只不过是些耸肩昂首、目空一切、装腔作势、瞪眼无情的下流痞子罢了，而路路通却不是那种人，他是个很正派的大小伙子，他的相貌很讨人喜欢。他的嘴唇稍微翘起，看来象是准备要尝尝什么东西，亲亲什么人似的。长在他双肩上的这个圆圆的脑袋使人们有一种和蔼可亲的感觉，他真是个殷勤而又温和的人。在他那红光满面的脸膛上有一双碧蓝色的眼晴。他的脸相当胖，胖得自己都能看到自己的颧骨。他身躯魁梧，肩宽腰圆，肌肉结实，而且力大非凡。他所以有这样健壮的体格，都是他青年时代锻炼的结果，他那棕色的头发总是乱蓬蓬的，如果说古代雕塑家懂得密涅瓦十八种处理头发的技艺，那么路路通却只懂得一种：拿起粗齿梳子，刷，刷，刷！三下，就完事大吉。
不管是谁只要稍微考虑一下，都不会说这小伙子嘻嘻哈哈大大咧咧的性格会跟福克的脾气合得来。他是否有象主人所要求的那样百分之百的准确性呢？这只有到使唤他的时候才能看得出来。人们知道，路路通青年时代曾经历过一段东奔西走的流浪生活，现在他很希望稳定下来，好休息休息。他听到人家夸奖英国人有条有理一丝不苟的作风和典型的冷静的绅士气派，于是就跑到英国来碰运气了。可是直到目前为止，命运就是不帮他的忙，他在任何地方都扎不住根。他先后换了十家人家，这十家的人都是些性情希奇，脾气古怪，到处冒险，四海为家的人。这对路路通说来，是不合他的口味的。他最后的一位东家是年轻的国会议员浪斯费瑞爵士。这位爵士老爷晚上经常光顾海依市场的牡蛎酒吧，往往叫把他给背回来。路路通为了不失对主人的尊敬，曾经冒险向爵士老爷恭恭敬敬地提了些很有分寸的意见。可是结果爵士老爷大发雷霆，路路通就不干了。赶巧这时候，他听说福克先生要找一个佣人，他打听了一下关于这位绅士的情况，知道他的生活是十分规律化的，既不在外面住宿，又不出门旅行，连一天也没有远离过住宅。跟这个人当差，对路路通是太合适了。所以他就登门谒见了福克先生，把这件差事正如我们前面所说的那样谈妥了。
十一点半敲过，赛微乐街的住宅里，只剩下路路通一个人。他马上开始把整个住宅巡视一番，从地窖到阁楼处处都跑遍了。看来这幢房子整齐、清洁、庄严、朴素，而且非常舒适方便。这一下子路路通可开心啦。这所房子对他来说就是个贴体舒适的蜗牛壳。但是这个蜗牛壳是用瓦斯照亮的，因为只用瓦斯就能满足这里一切照明和取暖的需要了。路路通在三楼上一点没有费事就找到了指定给他住的房子。这间房子挺合他的心意。里头还装着电铃和传话筒，可以跟地下室和二层楼的各个屋子联系。壁炉上面有个电挂钟，它跟福克先生卧室里的挂钟对好了钟点。两个钟准确地同时敲响，一秒钟也不差。
“这太好了，我这一国可称心如意了！”路路通自言自语地说。
他在自己的房间里看见一张注意事项表，贴在挂钟顶上。这是他每天工作的项目——从早上八点钟福克先生起床的时候开始一直到十一点半福克先生去俱乐部吃午饭为止——所有的工作细节：八点二十三分送茶和烤面包，九点三十六分送刮胡子的热水，九点四十分理发……然后从上午十一点半一直到夜间十二点——这位有条不紊的绅士睡觉的时候，所有该做的事，统统都写在上面，交代得清清楚楚。路路通高高兴兴地把这张工作表细细地琢磨了一番。并把各种该做的事都牢牢地记在心上。
福克先生的衣柜里面装得满满的，各种服装都有，简直是应有尽有。每一条裤子，每一件上衣，甚至每一件背心，都标上一个按次排列的号码。这些号码同样又写在取用和收藏衣物的登记簿上。随着季节的更替，登记簿上还注明：哪天该轮到穿哪一套衣服，就连穿什么鞋子，也同样有一套严格的规定。
总之，赛微乐街的这所房子，在那位大名鼎鼎、放荡不羁的西锐登住在这里的时代，是个乌七八糟的地方，如今陈设得非常幽美，叫人一看就有轻松愉快的感觉。这儿没有藏书室，甚至连书也没有一本。这一点对福克先生说来没有必要，因为俱乐部里有两个图书馆，一个是文艺书籍图书馆，另一个是法律和书籍图书馆，都可供他随意阅览。在他卧室里面，有个不大不小的保险柜，制造得非常坚固，既能防火，又可防贼。在他住宅里面，绝无武器，无论是打猎用的，或者是打仗用的，统统没有。这里的一切都标志着主人的好静的性格。
路路通把这所住宅仔仔细细地察看一番之后，他情不自禁地搓着双手，宽宽的脸膛上露出洋洋得意的笑容，于是左一遍右一遍兴高采烈地说：
“这太好了，这正是我的差事，福克先生跟我，我们俩准会合得来。他是一个不爱出去走动的人，他作事一板一眼活象一架机器！妙呀！伺候一架机器，我是没有什么抱怨的了。”
"Faith," muttered Passepartout, somewhat flurried, "I've seen people at Madame Tussaud's as lively as my new master!"
Madame Tussaud's "people," let it be said, are of wax, and are much visited in London; speech is all that is wanting to make them human.
During his brief interview with Mr. Fogg, Passepartout had been carefully observing him. He appeared to be a man about forty years of age, with fine, handsome features, and a tall, well-shaped figure; his hair and whiskers were light, his forehead compact and unwrinkled, his face rather pale, his teeth magnificent. His countenance possessed in the highest degree what physiognomists call "repose in action," a quality of those who act rather than talk. Calm and phlegmatic, with a clear eye, Mr. Fogg seemed a perfect type of that English composure which Angelica Kauffmann has so skilfully represented on canvas. Seen in the various phases of his daily life, he gave the idea of being perfectly well-balanced, as exactly regulated as a Leroy chronometer. Phileas Fogg was, indeed, exactitude personified, and this was betrayed even in the expression of his very hands and feet; for in men, as well as in animals, the limbs themselves are expressive of the passions.
He was so exact that he was never in a hurry, was always ready, and was economical alike of his steps and his motions. He never took one step too many, and always went to his destination by the shortest cut; he made no superfluous gestures, and was never seen to be moved or agitated. He was the most deliberate person in the world, yet always reached his destination at the exact moment.
He lived alone, and, so to speak, outside of every social relation; and as he knew that in this world account must be taken of friction, and that friction retards, he never rubbed against anybody.
As for Passepartout, he was a true Parisian of Paris. Since he had abandoned his own country for England, taking service as a valet, he had in vain searched for a master after his own heart. Passepartout was by no means one of those pert dunces depicted by Moliere with a bold gaze and a nose held high in the air; he was an honest fellow, with a pleasant face, lips a trifle protruding, soft-mannered and serviceable, with a good round head, such as one likes to see on the shoulders of a friend. His eyes were blue, his complexion rubicund, his figure almost portly and well-built, his body muscular, and his physical powers fully developed by the exercises of his younger days. His brown hair was somewhat tumbled; for, while the ancient sculptors are said to have known eighteen methods of arranging Minerva's tresses, Passepartout was familiar with but one of dressing his own: three strokes of a large-tooth comb completed his toilet.
It would be rash to predict how Passepartout's lively nature would agree with Mr. Fogg. It was impossible to tell whether the new servant would turn out as absolutely methodical as his master required; experience alone could solve the question. Passepartout had been a sort of vagrant in his early years, and now yearned for repose; but so far he had failed to find it, though he had already served in ten English houses. But he could not take root in any of these; with chagrin, he found his masters invariably whimsical and irregular, constantly running about the country, or on the look-out for adventure. His last master, young Lord Longferry, Member of Parliament, after passing his nights in the Haymarket taverns, was too often brought home in the morning on policemen's shoulders. Passepartout, desirous of respecting the gentleman whom he served, ventured a mild remonstrance on such conduct; which, being ill-received, he took his leave. Hearing that Mr. Phileas Fogg was looking for a servant, and that his life was one of unbroken regularity, that he neither travelled nor stayed from home overnight, he felt sure that this would be the place he was after. He presented himself, and was accepted, as has been seen.
At half-past eleven, then, Passepartout found himself alone in the house in Saville Row. He begun its inspection without delay, scouring it from cellar to garret. So clean, well-arranged, solemn a mansion pleased him ; it seemed to him like a snail's shell, lighted and warmed by gas, which sufficed for both these purposes. When Passepartout reached the second story he recognised at once the room which he was to inhabit, and he was well satisfied with it. Electric bells and speaking-tubes afforded communication with the lower stories; while on the mantel stood an electric clock, precisely like that in Mr. Fogg's bedchamber, both beating the same second at the same instant. "That's good, that'll do," said Passepartout to himself.
He suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon inspection, proved to be a programme of the daily routine of the house. It comprised all that was required of the servant, from eight in the morning, exactly at which hour Phileas Fogg rose, till half-past eleven, when he left the house for the Reform Club--all the details of service, the tea and toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the shaving-water at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the toilet at twenty minutes before ten. Everything was regulated and foreseen that was to be done from half-past eleven a.m. till midnight, the hour at which the methodical gentleman retired.
Mr. Fogg's wardrobe was amply supplied and in the best taste. Each pair of trousers, coat, and vest bore a number, indicating the time of year and season at which they were in turn to be laid out for wearing; and the same system was applied to the master's shoes. In short, the house in Saville Row, which must have been a very temple of disorder and unrest under the illustrious but dissipated Sheridan, was cosiness, comfort, and method idealised. There was no study, nor were there books, which would have been quite useless to Mr. Fogg; for at the Reform two libraries, one of general literature and the other of law and politics, were at his service. A moderate-sized safe stood in his bedroom, constructed so as to defy fire as well as burglars; but Passepartout found neither arms nor hunting weapons anywhere; everything betrayed the most tranquil and peaceable habits.
Having scrutinised the house from top to bottom, he rubbed his hands, a broad smile overspread his features, and he said joyfully, "This is just what I wanted! Ah, we shall get on together, Mr. Fogg and I! What a domestic and regular gentleman! A real machine; well, I don't mind serving a machine."
这儿应该交代一下：杜叟太太家里的那些“好好先生”是用蜡做的，在伦敦经常有很多人去欣赏。这种蜡人做得活象真的，就只差会说话罢了。
路路通在刚才和福克先生见面的短短几分钟里，就已经把他这位未来的主人又快又仔细地观察了一番。看来这人该有四十上下，面容清秀而端庄，高高的个儿虽然略微有点胖，但是并不因此损及他翩翩的风采。金褐色的头发和胡须，光溜平滑的前额，连太阳穴上也看不到一条皱纹。面色净白，并不红润，一口牙齿，整齐美观。他的个人修养显然很高，已经达到了如相士们所说的“虽动犹静”的地步。凡是“多做事，少扯淡”的人所具有的特点他都有。安详，冷静，眼皮一眨不眨，眼珠明亮有神，简直是那种冷静的英国人最标准的典型。这种人在联合王国里是司空见惯的。昂·高夫曼的妙笔，常把他们画成多少带点学究气的人物。从福克先生日常生活看来，人们有一种印象，觉得这位绅士的一举一动都是不轻不重，不偏不倚，恰如其分，简直象李罗阿或是伊恩萧的精密测时计一样准确。事实上，福克本人就是个准确性的化身，这一点从他两只手和两只脚的动作上就可以很清楚地看出来。因为人类的四肢，和其他动物的四肢一样，本身就是表达感情的器官。
福克先生是这样的一种人，生活按部就班，行动精密准确，从来不慌不忙，凡事总有准备，甚至连迈几步，动几动，都有一定的节制。福克先生从不多走一步路，走道总是抄最近的走。他决不无故地朝天花板看一眼，也不无故地做一个手势，他从来没有激动过，也从来没有苦恼过。他是世界上最不性急的人，但也从来没有因迟到而误过事。至于他生活孤独，甚至可以说与世隔绝，这一点，人们是会理解的。他觉得在生活中总要和别人交往，总会发生争执，这就会耽误事，因此，他从不与人交往，从不与人争执。
提起若望，他又叫路路通，是个土生土长的道地的巴黎人。他在英国待了五年，一直在伦敦给人当亲随佣人。但他始终没有找到过一个合适的主人。
路路通丝毫不是福龙丹、马斯加里勒那一流的人。他们只不过是些耸肩昂首、目空一切、装腔作势、瞪眼无情的下流痞子罢了，而路路通却不是那种人，他是个很正派的大小伙子，他的相貌很讨人喜欢。他的嘴唇稍微翘起，看来象是准备要尝尝什么东西，亲亲什么人似的。长在他双肩上的这个圆圆的脑袋使人们有一种和蔼可亲的感觉，他真是个殷勤而又温和的人。在他那红光满面的脸膛上有一双碧蓝色的眼晴。他的脸相当胖，胖得自己都能看到自己的颧骨。他身躯魁梧，肩宽腰圆，肌肉结实，而且力大非凡。他所以有这样健壮的体格，都是他青年时代锻炼的结果，他那棕色的头发总是乱蓬蓬的，如果说古代雕塑家懂得密涅瓦十八种处理头发的技艺，那么路路通却只懂得一种：拿起粗齿梳子，刷，刷，刷！三下，就完事大吉。
不管是谁只要稍微考虑一下，都不会说这小伙子嘻嘻哈哈大大咧咧的性格会跟福克的脾气合得来。他是否有象主人所要求的那样百分之百的准确性呢？这只有到使唤他的时候才能看得出来。人们知道，路路通青年时代曾经历过一段东奔西走的流浪生活，现在他很希望稳定下来，好休息休息。他听到人家夸奖英国人有条有理一丝不苟的作风和典型的冷静的绅士气派，于是就跑到英国来碰运气了。可是直到目前为止，命运就是不帮他的忙，他在任何地方都扎不住根。他先后换了十家人家，这十家的人都是些性情希奇，脾气古怪，到处冒险，四海为家的人。这对路路通说来，是不合他的口味的。他最后的一位东家是年轻的国会议员浪斯费瑞爵士。这位爵士老爷晚上经常光顾海依市场的牡蛎酒吧，往往叫把他给背回来。路路通为了不失对主人的尊敬，曾经冒险向爵士老爷恭恭敬敬地提了些很有分寸的意见。可是结果爵士老爷大发雷霆，路路通就不干了。赶巧这时候，他听说福克先生要找一个佣人，他打听了一下关于这位绅士的情况，知道他的生活是十分规律化的，既不在外面住宿，又不出门旅行，连一天也没有远离过住宅。跟这个人当差，对路路通是太合适了。所以他就登门谒见了福克先生，把这件差事正如我们前面所说的那样谈妥了。
十一点半敲过，赛微乐街的住宅里，只剩下路路通一个人。他马上开始把整个住宅巡视一番，从地窖到阁楼处处都跑遍了。看来这幢房子整齐、清洁、庄严、朴素，而且非常舒适方便。这一下子路路通可开心啦。这所房子对他来说就是个贴体舒适的蜗牛壳。但是这个蜗牛壳是用瓦斯照亮的，因为只用瓦斯就能满足这里一切照明和取暖的需要了。路路通在三楼上一点没有费事就找到了指定给他住的房子。这间房子挺合他的心意。里头还装着电铃和传话筒，可以跟地下室和二层楼的各个屋子联系。壁炉上面有个电挂钟，它跟福克先生卧室里的挂钟对好了钟点。两个钟准确地同时敲响，一秒钟也不差。
“这太好了，我这一国可称心如意了！”路路通自言自语地说。
他在自己的房间里看见一张注意事项表，贴在挂钟顶上。这是他每天工作的项目——从早上八点钟福克先生起床的时候开始一直到十一点半福克先生去俱乐部吃午饭为止——所有的工作细节：八点二十三分送茶和烤面包，九点三十六分送刮胡子的热水，九点四十分理发……然后从上午十一点半一直到夜间十二点——这位有条不紊的绅士睡觉的时候，所有该做的事，统统都写在上面，交代得清清楚楚。路路通高高兴兴地把这张工作表细细地琢磨了一番。并把各种该做的事都牢牢地记在心上。
福克先生的衣柜里面装得满满的，各种服装都有，简直是应有尽有。每一条裤子，每一件上衣，甚至每一件背心，都标上一个按次排列的号码。这些号码同样又写在取用和收藏衣物的登记簿上。随着季节的更替，登记簿上还注明：哪天该轮到穿哪一套衣服，就连穿什么鞋子，也同样有一套严格的规定。
总之，赛微乐街的这所房子，在那位大名鼎鼎、放荡不羁的西锐登住在这里的时代，是个乌七八糟的地方，如今陈设得非常幽美，叫人一看就有轻松愉快的感觉。这儿没有藏书室，甚至连书也没有一本。这一点对福克先生说来没有必要，因为俱乐部里有两个图书馆，一个是文艺书籍图书馆，另一个是法律和书籍图书馆，都可供他随意阅览。在他卧室里面，有个不大不小的保险柜，制造得非常坚固，既能防火，又可防贼。在他住宅里面，绝无武器，无论是打猎用的，或者是打仗用的，统统没有。这里的一切都标志着主人的好静的性格。
路路通把这所住宅仔仔细细地察看一番之后，他情不自禁地搓着双手，宽宽的脸膛上露出洋洋得意的笑容，于是左一遍右一遍兴高采烈地说：
“这太好了，这正是我的差事，福克先生跟我，我们俩准会合得来。他是一个不爱出去走动的人，他作事一板一眼活象一架机器！妙呀！伺候一架机器，我是没有什么抱怨的了。”
"Faith," muttered Passepartout, somewhat flurried, "I've seen people at Madame Tussaud's as lively as my new master!"
Madame Tussaud's "people," let it be said, are of wax, and are much visited in London; speech is all that is wanting to make them human.
During his brief interview with Mr. Fogg, Passepartout had been carefully observing him. He appeared to be a man about forty years of age, with fine, handsome features, and a tall, well-shaped figure; his hair and whiskers were light, his forehead compact and unwrinkled, his face rather pale, his teeth magnificent. His countenance possessed in the highest degree what physiognomists call "repose in action," a quality of those who act rather than talk. Calm and phlegmatic, with a clear eye, Mr. Fogg seemed a perfect type of that English composure which Angelica Kauffmann has so skilfully represented on canvas. Seen in the various phases of his daily life, he gave the idea of being perfectly well-balanced, as exactly regulated as a Leroy chronometer. Phileas Fogg was, indeed, exactitude personified, and this was betrayed even in the expression of his very hands and feet; for in men, as well as in animals, the limbs themselves are expressive of the passions.
He was so exact that he was never in a hurry, was always ready, and was economical alike of his steps and his motions. He never took one step too many, and always went to his destination by the shortest cut; he made no superfluous gestures, and was never seen to be moved or agitated. He was the most deliberate person in the world, yet always reached his destination at the exact moment.
He lived alone, and, so to speak, outside of every social relation; and as he knew that in this world account must be taken of friction, and that friction retards, he never rubbed against anybody.
As for Passepartout, he was a true Parisian of Paris. Since he had abandoned his own country for England, taking service as a valet, he had in vain searched for a master after his own heart. Passepartout was by no means one of those pert dunces depicted by Moliere with a bold gaze and a nose held high in the air; he was an honest fellow, with a pleasant face, lips a trifle protruding, soft-mannered and serviceable, with a good round head, such as one likes to see on the shoulders of a friend. His eyes were blue, his complexion rubicund, his figure almost portly and well-built, his body muscular, and his physical powers fully developed by the exercises of his younger days. His brown hair was somewhat tumbled; for, while the ancient sculptors are said to have known eighteen methods of arranging Minerva's tresses, Passepartout was familiar with but one of dressing his own: three strokes of a large-tooth comb completed his toilet.
It would be rash to predict how Passepartout's lively nature would agree with Mr. Fogg. It was impossible to tell whether the new servant would turn out as absolutely methodical as his master required; experience alone could solve the question. Passepartout had been a sort of vagrant in his early years, and now yearned for repose; but so far he had failed to find it, though he had already served in ten English houses. But he could not take root in any of these; with chagrin, he found his masters invariably whimsical and irregular, constantly running about the country, or on the look-out for adventure. His last master, young Lord Longferry, Member of Parliament, after passing his nights in the Haymarket taverns, was too often brought home in the morning on policemen's shoulders. Passepartout, desirous of respecting the gentleman whom he served, ventured a mild remonstrance on such conduct; which, being ill-received, he took his leave. Hearing that Mr. Phileas Fogg was looking for a servant, and that his life was one of unbroken regularity, that he neither travelled nor stayed from home overnight, he felt sure that this would be the place he was after. He presented himself, and was accepted, as has been seen.
At half-past eleven, then, Passepartout found himself alone in the house in Saville Row. He begun its inspection without delay, scouring it from cellar to garret. So clean, well-arranged, solemn a mansion pleased him ; it seemed to him like a snail's shell, lighted and warmed by gas, which sufficed for both these purposes. When Passepartout reached the second story he recognised at once the room which he was to inhabit, and he was well satisfied with it. Electric bells and speaking-tubes afforded communication with the lower stories; while on the mantel stood an electric clock, precisely like that in Mr. Fogg's bedchamber, both beating the same second at the same instant. "That's good, that'll do," said Passepartout to himself.
He suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon inspection, proved to be a programme of the daily routine of the house. It comprised all that was required of the servant, from eight in the morning, exactly at which hour Phileas Fogg rose, till half-past eleven, when he left the house for the Reform Club--all the details of service, the tea and toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the shaving-water at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the toilet at twenty minutes before ten. Everything was regulated and foreseen that was to be done from half-past eleven a.m. till midnight, the hour at which the methodical gentleman retired.
Mr. Fogg's wardrobe was amply supplied and in the best taste. Each pair of trousers, coat, and vest bore a number, indicating the time of year and season at which they were in turn to be laid out for wearing; and the same system was applied to the master's shoes. In short, the house in Saville Row, which must have been a very temple of disorder and unrest under the illustrious but dissipated Sheridan, was cosiness, comfort, and method idealised. There was no study, nor were there books, which would have been quite useless to Mr. Fogg; for at the Reform two libraries, one of general literature and the other of law and politics, were at his service. A moderate-sized safe stood in his bedroom, constructed so as to defy fire as well as burglars; but Passepartout found neither arms nor hunting weapons anywhere; everything betrayed the most tranquil and peaceable habits.
Having scrutinised the house from top to bottom, he rubbed his hands, a broad smile overspread his features, and he said joyfully, "This is just what I wanted! Ah, we shall get on together, Mr. Fogg and I! What a domestic and regular gentleman! A real machine; well, I don't mind serving a machine."