The road, then, was quite clear of obstacles, and Phileas Fogg had but two things to fear--an accident to the sledge, and a change or calm in the wind.
But the breeze, far from lessening its force, blew as if to bend the mast, which, however, the metallic lashings held firmly.

These lashings, like the chords of a stringed instrument, resounded as if vibrated by a violin bow.

The sledge slid along in the midst of a plaintively intense melody.
"Those chords give the fifth and the octave," said Mr.Fogg.
These were the only words he uttered during the journey.

Aouda, cosily packed in furs and cloaks, was sheltered as much as possible from the attacks of the freezing wind.

As for Passepartout, his face was as red as the sun's disc when it sets in the mist, and he laboriously inhaled the biting air.