It made no difference to him.

A man's life being to be taken and the price of it got, the hailstones to arrest the purpose must lie larger and deeper than those.

He crashed through them, leaving marks in the fast-melting slush that were mere shapeless holes; one might have fancied, following, that the very fashion of humanity had departed from his feet.
The blast went by, and the moon contended with the fast-flying clouds, and the wild disorder reigning up there made the pitiful little tumults in the streets of no account.

It was not that the wind swept all the brawlers into places of shelter, as it had swept the hail still lingering in heaps wherever there was refuge for it; but that it seemed as if the streets were absorbed by the sky, and the night were all in the air.
'If he has had time to think of it,' said Eugene, he has not had time to think better of it--or differently of it, if that's better.

There is no sign of drawing back in him; and as I recollect this place, we must be close upon the corner where we alighted that night.' In fact, a few abrupt turns brought them to the river side, where they had slipped about among the stones, and where they now slipped more; the wind coming against them in slants and flaws, across the tide and the windings of the river, in a furious way.