FRANCE: I Was the State

Time and frustration had blurred the towering, bony frame and added flesh to the sad falcon face. But the manner was still much the same—the haughtiness, the imperious pride and, over it all, the toga of weary martyrdom. He strode in past the painted nudes and mirrored walls of Paris' Hotel Continental to a burst of applause. Hundreds of his admirers, as they always do, had clustered around the dais and monopolized most of the seats at the press conference, leaving newsmen to find seats where they could.

His arms outstretched in the gesture that once thrilled all France, General...

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