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Updated: June 14, 2025
Again I entreated our prisoner to translate it, and offered him his freedom if he would do so. He only smiled at my request. I could not but admire him, for it was the very smile which I should have myself smiled had I been in his position. "At least," said I, "tell us the name of this village." "It is Dobrova." "And that is Minsk over yonder, I suppose." "Yes, that is Minsk."
I looked around me in the twilight, and then I saw that we had been led back to Dobrova, and that this house at the door of which we were waiting was the same house of the priest at which we had stopped in the morning. Here it was that my charming Sophie in her innocence had translated the unlucky message which had in some strange way led us to our ruin.
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