Our hero, however, had turned quite properly chicken. Though the britzka was racing along like wildfire, and Nozdryov’s estate had long since rushed from sight, covered by fields, slopes, and hummocks, he still kept looking back in fear, as if he expected at any moment to be swooped upon by the pursuit. He had difficulty catching his breath, and when he tried putting his hand to his heart, he felt it fluttering like a quail in a cage. “Eh, what a hot time he gave me! just look at him!”
😂😂😂
