The project was a bold one, full of difficulty, perhaps impracticable. Mr Fogg was going to risk life, or at least liberty, and therefore the success of his tour. But he did not hesitate, and he found in Sir Francis Cromarty an enthusiastic ally.

As for Passepartout, he was ready for anything that might be proposed. His master's idea charmed him; he perceived a heart, a soul, under that icy exterior. He began to love Phileas Fogg.

There remained the guide: what course would he adopt? Would he not take part with the Indians? In default of his assistance, it was necessary to be assured of his neutrality.

Sir Francis frankly put the question to him.

`Officers,' replied the guide, `I am a Parsee, and this woman is a Parsee. Command me as you will.'

`Excellent,' said Mr Fogg.

`However,' resumed the guide; `it is certain, not only that we shall risk our lives, but horrible tortures, if we are taken.'

`That is foreseen,' replied Mr Fogg. `I think we must wait till night before acting.'

`I think so,' said the guide.

The worthy Indian then gave some account of the victim, who, he said, was a celebrated beauty of the Parsee race, and the daughter of a wealthy Bombay merchant. She had received a thoroughly English education in that city, and, from her manners and intelligence, would be thought an European. Her name was Aouda. Left an orphan, she was married against her will to the old rajah of Bundelcund; and, knowing the fate that awaited her, she escaped, was retaken, and devoted by the rajah's relatives, who had an interest in her death, to the sacrifice from which it seemed she could not escape.

The Parsee's narrative only confirmed Mr Fogg and his companions in their generous design. It was decided that the guide should direct the elephant towards the pagoda of Pillaji, which he accordingly approached as quickly as possible. They halted, half-an-hour afterwards, in a copse, some five hundred feet from the pagoda, where they were well concealed; but they could hear the groans and cries of the fakirs distinctly.

They then discussed the means of getting at the victim. The guide was familiar with the pagoda of Pillaji, in which, as he declared, the young woman was imprisoned. Could they enter any of its doors while the whole party of Indians was plunged in a drunken sleep or was it safer to attempt to make a hole in the walls? This could only be determined at the moment and the place themselves; but it was certain that the abduction must be made that night, and not when, at break of day, the victim was led to her funeral pyre. Then no human intervention could save her.

As soon as night fell, about six o'clock, they decided to make a reconnaissance around the pagoda. The cries of the fakirs were just ceasing; the Indians were in the act of plunging themselves into the drunkenness caused by liquid Opium mingled with hemp, and it might be possible to slip between them to the temple itself.

The Parsee, leading the others, noiselessly crept through the wood, and in ten minutes they found themselves on the banks of a small stream, whence, by the light of the rosin torches, they perceived a pyre of wood, on the top of which lay the embalmed body of the rajah, which was to be burned with his wife. The pagoda, whose minarets loomed above the trees in the deepening dusk, Stood a hundred steps away.

`Come!' whispered the guide.

He slipped more cautiously than ever through the brush, followed by his companions; the silence around was only broken by the low murmuring of the wind among the branches.

Soon the Parsee stopped on the borders of the glade, which was lit up by the torches. The ground was covered by groups of the Indians, motionless in their drunken sleep; it seemed a battle-field strewn with the dead. Men, women, and children lay together.

In the background, among the trees, the pagoda of Pillaji loomed indistinctly. Much to the guide's disappointment, the guards of the rajah, lighted by torches, were watching at the doors and marching to and fro with naked sabres; probably the priests, too, were watching within.

The Parsee, now convinced that it was impossible to force an entrance to the temple, advanced no farther, but led his companions back again. Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty also saw that nothing could be attempted in that direction. They stopped, and engaged in a whispered colloquy.

`It is only eight now,' said the brigadier, `and these guards may also go to sleep.'

`It is not impossible,' returned the Parsee. They lay down at the foot of a tree, and waited.

The time seemed long; the guide ever and anon left them to take an observation on the edge of the wood, but the guards watched steadily by the glare of the torches, and a dim light crept through the windows of the pagoda.

They waited till midnight; but no change took place among the guards, and it became apparent that their yielding to sleep could not be counted on. The other plan must be carried out; an opening in the walls of the pagoda must be made. It remained to ascertain whether the priests were watching by the side of their victim as assiduously as were the soldiers at the door.

After a last consultation, the guide announced that he was ready for the attempt, and advanced, followed by the others. They took a roundabout way, so as to get at the pagoda on the rear. They reached the walls about half-past twelve, without having met anyone; here there was no guard, nor were there either windows or doors.

The night was dark. The moon, on the wane, scarcely left the horizon, and was covered with heavy clouds; the height of the trees deepened the darkness.

It was not enough to reach the walls; an opening in them must be accomplished, and to attain this purpose the party only had their pocket-knives. Happily the temple walls were built of brick and wood, which could be penetrated with little difficulty; after one brick had been taken out, the rest would yield easily.

They set noiselessly to work, and the Parsee on one side and Passepartout on the other began to loosen the bricks so as to make an aperture two feet wide. They were getting on rapidly, when suddenly a cry was heard in the interior of the temple, followed almost instantly by other cries replying from the outside. Passepartout and the guide stopped. Had they been heard? Was the alarm being given? Common prudence urged them to retire, and they did so, followed by Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis. They again hid themselves in the wood, and waited till the disturbance, whatever it might be, ceased, holding themselves ready to resume their attempt without delay. But, awkwardly enough, the guards now appeared at the rear of the temple, and there installed themselves, in readiness to prevent a surprise.

It would be difficult to describe the disappointment of the party, thus interrupted in their work. They could not now reach the victim; how, then, could they save her? Sir Francis shook his fists, Passepartout was beside himself, and the guide gnashed his teeth with rage. The tranquil Fogg waited, without betraying any emotion.

`We have nothing to do but to go away,' whispered Sir Francis.

`Nothing but to go away,' echoed the guide.

`Stop,' said Fogg. `I am only due at Allahabad to-morrow before noon.

`But what can you hope to do?' asked Sir Francis. `In a few hours it will be daylight, and--'

`The chance which now seems lost may present itself at the last moment.'

Sir Francis would have liked to read Phileas Fogg's eyes.

What was this cool Englishman thinking of? Was he planning to make a rush for the young woman at the very moment of the sacrifice, and boldly snatch her from her executioners?

This would be utter folly, and it was hard to admit that Fogg was such a fool. Sir Francis consented, however, to remain to the end of this terrible drama. The guide led them to the rear of the glade, where they were able to observe the sleeping groups.

Meanwhile Passepartout, who had perched himself on the lower branches of a tree, was resolving an idea which had at first struck him like a flash, and which was now firmly lodged in his brain.

He had commenced by saying to himself, `What folly!' and then he repeated, `Why not, after all? It's a chance - perhaps the only one; and with such sots!' Thinking thus, he slipped, with the suppleness of a serpent, to the lowest branches, the ends of which bent almost to the ground.

The hours passed, and the lighter shades now announced the approach of day, though it was not yet light. This was the moment. The slumbering multitude became animated, the tambourines sounded, songs and cries arose; the hour of the sacrifice had come. The doors of the pagoda swung open, and a bright light escaped from its interior, in the -midst of which Mr Fogg and Sir Francis espied the victim. She seemed, having shaken off the stupor of intoxication, to be striving to escape from her executioner. Sir Francis's heart throbbed; and convulsively seizing Mr Fogg's hand, found in it an open knife. Just at this moment the crowd began to move. The young woman had again fallen into a stupor caused by the fumes of hemp, and passed among the fakirs, who escorted her with their wild, religious cries.

Phileas Fogg and his companions, mingling in the rear ranks of the crowd, followed; and in two minutes they reached the banks of the stream, and stopped fifty paces from the pyre, upon which still lay the rajah's corpse. In the semi-obscurity they saw the victim, quite senseless, stretched out beside her husband's body. Then a torch was brought, and the wood, sold with oil, instantly took fire.

At this moment Sir Francis and the guide seized Phileas Fogg, who, in an instant of mad generosity, was about to rush upon the pyre. But he had quickly pushed them aside, when the whole scene suddenly changed. A cry of terror arose. The whole multitude prostrated themselves, terror-stricken, on the ground.

The old rajah was not dead, then, since he rose of a sudden, like a spectre, took up his wife in his arms, and descended from the pyre in the midst of the clouds of smoke, which only heightened his ghostly appearance.

Fakirs and soldiers and priests, seized with instant terror, lay there, with their faces on the ground, not daring to lift their eyes and behold such a prodigy.

The inanimate victim was borne along by the vigorous arms which supported her, and which she did not seem in the least to burden. Mr Fogg and Sir Francis stood erect, the Parsee bowed his head, and Passepartout was, no doubt, scarcely less stupefied.

The resuscitated rajah approached Sir Francis and Mr Fogg, and, in an abrupt tone, said, `Let us be off!'

It was Passepartout himself, who had slipped upon the pyre in the midst of the smoke and, profiting by the still overhanging darkness, had delivered the young woman from death! It was Passepartout who, playing his part with a happy audacity, had passed through the crowd amid the general terror.

A moment after all four of the party had disappeared in the woods, and the elephant was bearing them away at a rapid pace. But the cries and noise, and a ball which whizzed through Phileas Fogg's hat, apprised them that the trick had been discovered.

The old rajah's body, indeed, now appeared upon the burning pyre; and the priests, recovered from their terror, perceived that an abduction had taken place. They hastened into the forest, followed by the soldiers, who fired a volley after the fugitives; but the latter rapidly increased the distance between them, and ere long found themselves beyond the reach of the bullets and arrows.

这个救人的打算是很冒险的，是有困难的，看来也是行不通的。福克先生简直是要拿他的生命去冒险，或者至少说是要拿他的自由去冒险，其结果当然也就是拿他这次旅行的成败去冒险，可是，他并没有犹豫，而且他相信柯罗马蒂还能做他的得力助手。

至于路路通，他早已准备好随时听候差遣。他主人的建议使他感到兴奋。他发现他主人外表虽然是冷冰冰的，但骨子里却是个热心肠重感情的人，因此，他对福克先生就更加爱戴了。

现在只剩下这位向导了。他对这件事抱什么态度呢？他会不会站在本地人那一边呢？如果他不肯帮忙，至少也该让他保守中立。

柯罗马蒂很坦率地向他提出了这个问题。

“军官先生，”向导回答说，“我是帕西人，那受难的女人也是帕西人，有事您只管吩咐好了。”

“好极了。”福克回答说。

“但是，您得明白，”帕西人又说，“咱们这不光是拿性命冒险，要是给他们抓住了，咱们就会受到可怕的苦刑。事情就是这样，您明白了！”

“这一点早已预料到了！”福克回答说。“我想我们必须等到天黑才能动手。是吗？”

“我也是这么想。”向导回答说。

这个勇敢的印度人于是就把这个女人的情况详细地介绍了一番：她是个顶有名的印度美女，是帕西人，出身于孟买富商的家庭。她在孟买受过道地英国式的教育。从她的风度和文化修养来看，简直是个欧洲人。她的名字叫艾娥达。

她原是个孤女，跟这老土王结婚，并非自愿，婚后才三月，就成了寡妇。她知道自己要被烧死，所以就逃跑了。不幸立刻又被捉了回来。土王的亲属认为她的死是一件有关风俗的大事，于是决定要她殉葬，看情况这一回她是难逃一死了。毫无疑问，向导的这番话更坚定了福克和他同伴们仗义救人的决心。于是向导决定把象牵引到庇拉吉庙附近，尽可能离庙近一点。

一个半小时之后，他们在一个灌木林里停下来了。这儿离庙只有五百步远。他们不仅可以看到庙宇，甚至就连庙里那帮狂热信徒的喊叫，都听得清清楚楚。

这时，他们就开始商量用什么办法去接近艾娥达，向导很熟悉庇拉吉庙里的情况，他肯定那年轻的女人被关在里面。能不能等那帮人喝醉了呼呼大睡的时候，找个门溜进去呢？要不，是不是能在墙上挖一个洞呢？这只有在动手的当时和当场来决定了。可是，救人的工作毫无疑问必须在今夜进行，决不能等到天亮。因为天一亮这个不幸的女人就要被带去受刑了。一到那个时候，任何人也没有办法救她了。

福克先生和他的同伴眼巴巴地等待着黑夜来临。在六点钟左右，天刚擦黑的时候，他们就决定先把庙四周的情况摸摸清楚。这时，苦行僧们的喊叫声已经停止了。按习惯，这些僧侣该已经喝得烂醉如泥了——他们喝的是一种鸦片汁和苎麻汤掺合制成的“昂格”酒——现在要是从他们中间溜进庙去也许是可能的。

帕西人领着福克、柯罗马蒂和路路通静悄悄地在森林中前进。他们在灌木枝丫底下爬行了十分钟，就到了一条小河边上。借着铁制火把尖上燃着的树脂发出的亮光，他们瞅见那边架着一堆木柴，那就是用浸过香油的贵重的檀香木筑成的火葬坛，坛顶上层，放着土王的熏香尸体，它将和那寡妇一起被火葬。庇拉吉庙离火葬坛约一百步，庙的塔尖透过树梢，耸立在阴暗的上空。

“到这儿来！”向导低声唤道。

他领着这一伙人，加倍小心地从荒草丛里悄悄溜过。这时只有风吹树枝的嗖嗖声划破黑夜的寂静。

过了一会儿，向导到了一块空地的边缘上停了下来。那边的广场被几把树脂火炬照得通明。地上躺满了酒醉昏睡的人，简直象一个死尸狼藉的战场。男人、女人、孩子都混杂一起。东一处西一处的醉鬼还在呼呼地喘气。

在对面的丛林深处，模模糊糊地现出庇拉吉庙的轮廓。但是事实却使向导大失所望，原来土王的卫兵，正举着冒烟的火把，拿着脱鞘的军刀，警卫着庙门，并在附近来回巡逻。当然可以猜想到在庙里边也有僧侣防守着。

帕西人不再向前走了。他知道硬闯进去是不可能的，于是他就领着大家退了回来。

福克、柯罗马蒂跟向导一样地明白，要想打这边进去，那是办不到的了。

他们停下来，小声地交换了一下意见。

“咱们等着吧，”旅长说，“现在才八点钟，这些卫兵很可能会睡觉的。”

“当然，这也是可能的。”帕西人回答说。

于是福克先生和他的同伴就躺在一棵大树脚下，等待时机。

对他们说来，时间似乎是过得太慢了！向导不时地离开他们到森林边上侦察动静。土王卫兵一直在火炬的照耀下来回巡视。庙里好些窗户也透出模糊的灯光。

就这样一直等到午夜，情况还是毫无改变，庙外警卫也依然如故。显然，要等卫兵睡觉是没指望了。大概他们没喝“昂格”酒所以也不会醉。那末就只有另想办法，把庙墙挖一个窟窿钻进去。现在的问题是要弄清楚看守寡妇的那些僧侣是否也和守庙门的这些士兵一样小心谨慎。

商量好之后，向导说马上就出发。福克、路路通和柯罗马蒂便跟在后面，他们要从侧面接近庇拉吉庙，因此绕了一个相当大的圈子。

十二点半，他们到了庙墙脚下，路上一个人也没碰上。这里一个警卫也没有。说实话，这里也没有什么好警戒的，因为这里根本就没有门窗。

夜是漆黑的。这时，半圆的月亮刚刚离开乌云滚滚的地平线。那些高耸入云的大树越发增加了这种黑暗的气氛。

可是，只是到达墙脚下，那还是没有用，还必须在墙上挖出一个窟窿来。干这种活，他们仅有的工具就是自己衣服口袋里的小刀。总算万幸，这座庙的墙是用砖头和木块砌成的，凿起洞来并不困难，只要能弄掉头一块砖头，其余的就容易对付了。

大家就这样干起来了。他们尽可能不搞出声音来。左边是帕西人，右边是路路通，他们把砖头一块块地往外掏，准备挖出一个两英尺见方的窟窿。

正在挖洞的时候，忽然听见庙里有人叫喊，接着，庙外也有人跟着呼应。

路路通和向导停下了工作。是不是人家已经发觉了他们呢？是不是已经发出警报了呢？不管怎样，还是“三十六着走为上着”。同时福克和柯罗马蒂就跟着躲开了。他们又跑到树林里蹲下来，如果真是里边发出了警报的话，他们就等着，一直等到警报解除了，再继续去干。

就在这倒霉的时候，有几个卫兵走到庇拉吉庙的侧面布上了岗，这样一来任何人再也不能走近庙了。

这四个人只好停止挖墙，他们失望的心情是难以形容的。如今既然没法接近艾娥达，那么又怎能去救她呢？柯罗马蒂紧紧握着拳头，路路通怒发冲冠，向导也忍耐不住了。而心平气和的福克先生，还是丝毫不动声色地等待着。

“我们只好走了？”旅长小声问道。

“只好走吧。”向导回答。

“等一等！”福克说，“只要在明天中午以前，我能赶到阿拉哈巴德就行了。”

“可是您打算怎样呢？”柯罗马蒂问道，“再过几小时，天就亮了，那……”

“我们会在最后关头找到失去的机会的！”

这时旅长很希望从福克先生的面部表情看出一些门道来。

这个冷静的英国人打算干什么呢？难道他想在举行火葬的时候，跑向那个年轻的女人，公开地把她从刽子手那里抢出来吗？

那岂不是发疯！怎么能想象这个人会愚蠢到这步田地？尽管如此，柯罗马蒂还是同意一直等到这场惨剧演完为止。这时，向导不让大家继续待在目前躲藏的这个地方了，他把他们领回林里的空地上。在那儿，他们躲在一丛树林的后面，观察着那帮酣睡着的人。这时骑在一棵树上的路路通忽然想出了一个主意。这个主意起初只是象一道电光在他脑子里一闪而过，后来竟一直在他心里盘旋。

他开始还自言自语他说：“这想法太愚蠢了！”可是现在却说：“为什么不能这么干呢？这是一个机会，也许是一个仅有的机会，再说，对这帮蠢货……”

不管怎样，路路通决定就这样干，不再作其他打算了。他毫不迟疑地象一条蛇一样从那些低垂的树枝上爬了过去。这些树枝的顶端几乎触到了地面。

时间一个小时一个小时地过去了。不久，夜色已经不是那么漆黑漆黑的了，预告着黎明即将来临，不过大地上却仍然是一片昏暗。

举行火葬的时候到了。那群昏睡的人好象死人复活似的醒过来了。人群也重新骚动起来。锣声、歌声、叫喊声又喧嚷起来。那个不幸的女人死亡的时刻就要到了。

这时，庙门大敞，从里面射出了耀眼的光芒。福克和柯罗马蒂看见：那个受难的寡妇，在强烈的火把光亮照耀下被两个僧侣拖出庙来。他们看见这个不幸的女人似乎正以最后的自卫本能竭力抵抗着药酒的麻醉力，要想从这些刽子手的手中逃出来。柯罗马蒂的心在剧烈地跳动，他紧张地抓住福克的右手，他发现福克手里正握着一把打开的刀子。人群开始蠕动起来。那个年轻的女人被大麻烟熏得又昏迷过去了。她被人拖着从一群大声念着经文护送着她的苦行僧中间穿过。

福克等人混在后面的人群里跟着往前走。

两分钟后，他们到了河边，离那放着老土王死尸的火葬坛不到五十步远的地方停了下来。在若明若暗的晨曦中，他们看见在坛上那个毫无生气的女人正躺在她丈夫的死尸旁边。

紧接着送来了一个火把，那堆被油浸透了的木柴立即冒出了熊熊的火焰。

这当儿，福克要奋不顾身地冲上坛去，柯罗马蒂和向导忙用力把他一把拖住。然而就在福克把他们推开的时候，情况突然转变了。人群发出了恐怖的喊声，他们一个个都吓得魂不附体，跪在地上了。

原来老土王并没有死！他突然地站了起来，象幽灵一样双手抱着那个年轻的女人，走下了火葬坛，在那弥漫的烟雾里，他更象是一个妖怪！

苦行僧、卫兵和僧侣们，这一下都给吓坏了，他们一个个都脸朝着地趴在那儿，谁也不敢再抬头去看这个妖怪！

看起来那一双强有力的手臂抱着这个昏迷的寡妇一点也不吃力。福克和柯罗马蒂站着直发楞，帕西人弯着腰不敢抬头，路路通想必也已吓得目瞪口呆了……

这个复活的老土王就这样走到了福克和柯罗马蒂旁边。一到那儿，他就用很急促的声音说：

“快走！”

原来是路路通！正是他，在浓密的烟雾中偷偷地爬上了火葬坛！正是他，借着依然漆黑的夜色把年轻的女人从死亡里救了出来！正是他，若无其事地走过那一片被吓昏了的人群。

一瞬间，他们四个人已经在树林中消失了。大象驮着他们飞奔而去。但是后面传来了一阵叫喊的声音，甚至还飞来一颗子弹打穿了福克先生的帽子。这说明他们的西洋镜已经被拆穿了。

事实上，老土王的死尸仍然还躺在那冒着火焰的火葬坛上。那些刚才被吓坏了的僧侣现在才明白：有人把寡妇劫走了。

他们立刻带着卫兵冲进了树林。他们一边追着，一边不停地放枪，但是他们的敌人逃得很快，没多久，已经逃出子弹和弓箭的射程以外了。