"That is
war."
At the same time he approved of his having remained on his property.
They had special orders to seize the goods of the fugitives. Germany
wished the inhabitants to remain in their dwellings as though nothing
extraordinary had occurred. . . . Desnoyers protested. . . . "But if the
invaders were shooting the innocent ones and burning their homes!" . . .
His nephew prevented his saying more. He turned pale, an ashy hue
spreading over his face; his eyes snapped and his face trembled like
that of the lieutenant who had taken possession of the castle.
"You refer to the execution of the mayor and the others. My comrades
have just been telling me about it; yet that castigation was very mild;
they should have completely destroyed the entire village. They should
have killed even the women and children. We've got to put an end to
these sharpshooters."
His uncle looked at him in amazement. His Moltkecito was as formidable
and ferocious as the others. . . . But the captain brought the
conversation to an abrupt close by repeating the monstrous and
everlasting excuse.
"Very horrible, but what else can you expect! . . . That is war."
He then inquired after his mother, rejoicing to learn that she was in
the South. He had been uneasy at the idea of her remaining in Paris
. . . especially with all those revolutions which had been breaking out
there lately! .
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