who called himself Passe-partout, he was a Parisian of
the Parisians. He had been for five years in England, and had taken
service in London as a valet-de-chambre, during which period he had in
vain sought for such a master as Mr. Fogg.

Passe-partout was not one of those Frontii or Mascarilles, who, with
high shoulders and snubbed noses, and plenty of assurance, are nothing
more than impudent dunces; he was a good fellow, with a pleasant face,
somewhat full lips, always ready to eat or to kiss, with one of those
good round heads that one likes to see on the shoulders of one's
friends. He had bright blue eyes, was somewhat stout, but very
muscular, and possessed of great strength. He wore his hair in a
somewhat tumbled fashion. If sculptors of antiquity were aware of
eighteen ways of arranging the hair of Minerva, Passe-partout knew but
one way of doing his, namely, with three strokes of a comb.

We will not go as far as to predict how the man's nature would accord
with Mr. Fogg's. It was a question whether Passe-partout was the exact
sort of servant to suit such a master. Experience only would show.
After having passed his youth in such a vagabond manner, he looked
forward to some repose.

Having heard of the proverbial method and coolness of the English
gentleman, he had come to seek his fortune in England; but up to the
present time fate had been adverse. He had tried six situations, but
remained in none. In all of them he had found either a whimsical, an
irregular, or a restless master, which did not suit Passe-partout. His
last master, the young Lord Longsferry, M.P., after passing the
evening in the Haymarket, was carried home on the policemen's
shoulders. Passe-partout, wishing above all things to respect his
master, remonstrated in a respectful manner; but as his expostulations
were so ill received, he took his leave. It was at that time that he
heard Phileas Fogg was in search of a servant, and he presented
himself for the situation. A gentleman whose life was so regular, who
never stayed away from home, who never travelled, who never was absent
even for a day, was the very master for him, so he presented himself
and was engaged, as we have seen.

Thus it came to pass that at half-past eleven o'clock, Passe-partout
found himself alone in the house in Saville Row. He immediately
commenced to look about him, and search the house from cellar to
garret. This well-arranged, severe, almost puritanical house pleas