`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 Molière, 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 began 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 storey he recognized 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 idealized. 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 scrutinized 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.'

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，往往叫警察把他给背回来。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，另一个是法律和政治书籍图书馆，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。”