“We’ll send the infantwy down by the swamps,” Denísov continued. “They’ll cweep up to the garden; you’ll wide up fwom there with the Cossacks”⁠—he pointed to a spot in the forest beyond the village⁠—“and I with my hussars fwom here. And at the signal shot⁠ ⁠…”

“The hollow is impassable⁠—there’s a swamp there,” said the esaul . “The horses would sink. We must ride round more to the left.⁠ ⁠…”

While they were talking in undertones the crack of a shot sounded from the low ground by the pond, a puff of white smoke appeared, then another, and the sound of hundreds of seemingly merry French voices shouting together came up from the slope. For a moment Denísov and the esaul drew back. They were so near that they thought they were the cause of the firing and shouting. But the firing and shouting did not relate to them. Down below, a man wearing something red was running through the marsh. The French were evidently firing and shouting at him.