In its classic form, the fall of a French Premier closely resembles a bullfight. First, the picadors and banderilleros harry the victim with light but painful barbs, until his chest is heaving and his flanks are blood-flecked. Then the matador steps forth in solitary grandeur, executes his breathtaking passes and finally plunges his sword in for the kill.
Last week, when it came his turn to face the corrida, Félix Gaillard got the full treatment. To his plaintive declaration that if France will not trust its allies "we are before a crisis of extreme...
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