"
"Whose name," said I, examining the address, "is the Hetman
Platoff. Come, come, sir, this is an important military
document, which you are carrying from one general to another.
Tell me this instant what it is."
"Read it and then you will know." He spoke perfect French, as do
most of the educated Russians. But he knew well that there is
not one French officer in a thousand who knows a word of Russian.
The inside of the note contained one single line, which ran like
this:--
"Pustj Franzuzy pridutt v Minsk. Min gotovy."
I stared at it, and I had to shake my head. Then I showed it to
my Hussars, but they could make nothing of it. The Poles were
all rough fellows who could not read or write, save only the
sergeant, who came from Memel, in East Prussia, and knew no
Russian. It was maddening, for I felt that I had possession of
some important secret upon which the safety of the army might
depend, and yet I could make no sense of it. Again I entreated
our prisoner to translate it, and offered him his freedom if he
would do so.
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