This traitorous nation, which was arranging its ground like the scenario of a melodrama, would have to be chastised.

The municipal officers, the priests, the schoolmasters were directing and protecting the sharpshooters.
Desnoyers was shocked at the indifference with which these men were stalking around the burning village.

They did not appear to see the fire and destruction; it was just an ordinary spectacle, not worth looking at.

Ever since they had crossed the frontier, smoldering and blasted villages, fired by the advance guard, had marked their halting places on Belgian and French soil.
When entering Villeblanche the automobile had to lower its speed.

Burned walls were bulging out over the street and half-charred beams were obstructing the way, obliging the vehicle to zigzag through the smoking rubbish.