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版权信息书名：床头灯英语5000词纯英文：环游地球八十天作者：(法)凡尔纳排版：昷一出版社：航空工业出版社出版时间：2011-01-01ISBN：9787801838933本书由中航出版传媒有限责任公司授权北京当当科文电子商务有限公司制作与发行。— · 版权所有 侵权必究 · —前 言
全球60亿人中,有3. 8亿人的母语是英语,2. 5亿人的第二母语是英语, 12. 3亿人学习英语,33. 6亿人和英语有关。全世界电视节目的75%、电子邮件的80%、网络的85%、软件源代码的100%都使用英语。40~ 50年后,全球将有50%的人精通英语。全球约有6000种语言,21世纪末其中的90%将消亡。届时英语作为主导语言的地位将进一步得到提升。
●读任何原版的英语杂志,如Times(时代)、Newsweek(新闻周刊)、The Economists(经济学家),或者原版小说,如Jane Eyre(简·爱)、Gone with the Wind(飘)等,必须借助词典,因为我们随时都可能读不懂。即便查阅大部头的词典,我们常常还是不能理解文意,将文意理解得面目全非。最为可悲的是我们中很多人已经屈从于这种一知半解的阅读状态,甚至有人还荒唐地认为英语本身就是一门模模糊糊的语言,这样当然就更谈不上尝到读原汁原味英语的乐趣了。
故事发生在一八七二年。菲利斯·福格先生居住在英国柏林顿花园塞维尔路七号。他生活考究守时,每天都会在规定的时间重复相同的事情。他态度冷峻,行为怪癖,是别人眼中的神秘人物,人们对他可谓是知之甚少。他是英国伦敦著名的改革俱乐部的成员之一,前往改革俱乐部也成为福格先生每日必不可少的工作之一。一日在改革俱乐部中大家谈论起最近发生的一起银行抢劫案,他以两百万英镑作为赌注与朋友们打赌,说不论发生何种意外情况,他最多用八十天便可完成环球旅行。就这样,他与新来的仆人帕斯帕图一起,带着两百万英镑的现款,开始了这场环球之旅。他横渡五大洲、七大洋,历尽艰险,经受了种种考验,舍命救出了危难之中的印度女子奥达。还遭到英国警方的怀疑,被误认为是英国银行的劫匪,一路受到了警探费克斯的跟踪阻挠,险些延误了行程。在经历了种种磨难之后,他不仅如期完成了他的环球之旅,回到了伦敦,并最终收获了自己的爱情,与奥达结成连理,有情人终成眷属。CHAPTER 1In which Phileas Fogg and Passepartout Accept Each Other,the One as Master, the Other as Man
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; a person about whom little was known, except that he was a polished man of the world. 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. He certainly was not a manufacturer; nor was he a merchant or a gentleman farmer. He belonged, in fact, to none of the numerous societies which swarm in the English capital.
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 checks 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. Whenever he knew that money was needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it quietly and sometimes anonymously. He talked very little and seemed all the more mysterious for his cold 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 traveled?It was likely, for no one seemed to know the world more familiarly; there was no spot so out of the way that he did not appear to have an intimate acquaintance with it. He must have traveled everywhere, at least in spirit.
It was at least certain that Phileas Fogg had not absented himself from London for many years. Those who were honored by a better acquaintance with him than the rest, declared that nobody could pretend to have ever seen him anywhere else. 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. 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 cozy chambers which the Reform provides for its favored members. He passed ten hours out of the twenty-four in Saville Row, either in sleeping or making his toilet. When he breakfasted or dined all the resources of the club aided to crowd his table with their most delicious stores; he was served by the gravest waiters, and on the finest linen; 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 very large, 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, 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, ac-cording to his daily habit, quit Saville Row,and repair to the Reform.
A rap at this moment sounded on the door of the cozy 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 you please,”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, sir, but, to be outspoken, I’ve had several trades. I quitted France five years ago and, wishing to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a server here in England. Finding myself out of place, and hearing that Sir Phileas Fogg was the most exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom, I have come to you 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?”
“Good. What time is it?”
“Twenty-two minutes after eleven,”returned Passe-partout, drawing an enormous silver watch from the depths of his pocket.
“You are too slow,”said Mr. Fogg.
“Pardon me, sir,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, October 2, 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.
to be outspoken坦白地说,说实话
predecessor['priːdisesə]n.前者,前任CHAPTER 2In which Passepartout Is Convinced that He Has at Last Found His Ideal
“Faith,”muttered Passepartout, somewhat upset,“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 face rather pale, and his teeth magnificent. Seen in the various phases of his daily life, he gave the idea of being perfectly well-balanced. Phileas Fogg was,indeed,accuracy 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 server, he had in vain searched for a master after his own heart. Passepartout was an honest fellow, with a pleasant face, 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 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.
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 wanderer 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 disappointment he found his masters invariably unusual and irregular, constantly running about the country, or on the look out for adventure. Hearing that Mr. Phileas Fogg was looking for a servant, and that his life was one of unbroken regularity, that he neither traveled nor stayed from home overnight, he felt sure that this would be the place he was after. 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 attic. So clean, well arranged, solemn a mansion had never pleased him more. 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 shelf 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 will do,”said Passepartout to himself.
He suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon inspection, proved to be a program 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 was coziness, comfort, and method idealized.
Having studied 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.”
a true Parisian of Paris地地道道的巴黎人
joyfully['dʒɔifuli]adv.愉快地CHAPTER 3In which a Conversation Takes Place which Seems Likely to Cost Phileas Fogg Dear
Phileas Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven, and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and seventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and seventy-six times, reached the Reform Club. He repaired at once to the dining room; and took his place at the habitual table, the cover of which had already been laid for him. After finishing breakfast, he rose at thirteen minutes to one, and directed his steps towards the large hall, a great apartment adorned with lavishly-framed paintings. The reading of the Times absorbed Phileas Fogg until a quarter before four, whilst the Standard, his next task, occupied him till the dinner hour. Dinner passed as breakfast had done,and Mr. Fogg reappeared in the reading room and sat down to the Pall Mall at twenty minutes before six. Half an hour later several members of the Reform came in and drew up to the fireplace, where a coal fire was steadily burning. Andrew Stuart, an engineer; John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, bankers; Thomas Flanagan, a brewer; and Gauthier Ralph, one of the Directors of the Bank of England; all rich and highly respectable personages,even in a club which comprises the princes of English trade and finance.
“Well, Ralph,”said Thomas Flanagan,“what about that robbery?”
“Oh,”replied Stuart;“the bank will lose the money.”
“On the contrary,”broke in Ralph,“I hope we may put our hands on the robber. Skilful detectives have been sent to all the principal ports of America and the Continent, and he’ll be a clever fellow if he slips through their fingers.”
“But have you got the robber’s description?”asked Stuart.
“In the first place he is no robber at all,”returned Ralph, positively.
“What! A fellow who makes off with fifty-five thousand pounds, no robber?”
“Perhaps he’s a manufacturer, then.”
“The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman.”
It was Phileas Fogg, whose head now emerged from behind his newspapers, who made this remark. He bowed to his friends, and entered into the conversation. The affair which formed its subject,and which was town talk, had occurred three days before at the Bank of England. A package of bank notes, to the value of fifty-five thousand pounds, had been taken from the principal cashier’s table. Of course he could not have his eyes everywhere. Let it be observed that the Bank of England reposes a touching confidence in the honesty of the public. There are neither guards nor walls to protect its treasures; gold, silver, bank notes are freely exposed, at the merry of the first comer. The package of notes not being found when five o’clock sounded from the ponderous clock in the drawing office,the amount was passed to the account of profit and loss. As soon as the robbery was discovered, picked detectives hastened off to Liverpool, Glasgow, Havre, Suez, Brindisi, New York, and other ports, inspired by the offered reward of two thousand pounds, and five percent on the sum that might be recovered. Detectives were also charged with narrowly watching those who arrived at or left London by rail, and a judicial examination was at once entered upon.
There were real grounds for supposing, as the Daily Telegraph said, that the thief did not belong to a professional band. On the day of the robbery a well-dressed gentleman of polished manners,and with a well to do air, had been observed going to and fro in the paying-room, where the crime was committed. The papers and clubs were full of the affair, and everywhere people were discussing the probabilities of a successful pursuit; and the Reform Club was especially agitated, several of its members being Bank officials.
“I maintain,”said Stuart,“that the chances are in favor of the thief, who must be a shrewd fellow.”
“Well, but where can he fly to?”asked Ralph.“No country is safe for him.”
“That’s not true!”
“Where could he go, then?”
“Oh, I don’t know that. The world is big enough.”
“It was once,”said Phileas Fogg,in a low tone.
“What do you mean by‘once’? Has the world grown smaller?”
“Certainly,”returned Ralph.“I agree with Mr. Fogg. The world has grown smaller, since a man can now go round it ten times more quickly than a hundred years ago. And that is why the search for this thief will be more likely to succeed.”
“And also why the thief can get away more easily.”
But the doubtful Stuart was not convinced, and said eagerly:“You have a strange way, Ralph, of proving that the world has grown smaller. So, because you can go round it in three months...”