When a Frenchman, over his hot brioches and chocolate, unfolds his morning paper to stare at gaping columns of white space, he shrugs and murmurs philosophically : "Anastasie!" A haggard, black-gowned, crotchety old maid, armed with an immense pair of shears, Anastasie is a characteristic creation of Gallic wit. She personifies the tightlipped, prudish silence clamped on the French press in wartime.
A veteran of World War I (named after St. Anastasia, who had her tongue cut out for resisting the advances of Roman Emperor Valerian), Anastasie was revived by a French satirical weekly,...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
