another nurse

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Here is the very image of France herself, heroic and sorrowful, of France which has given her flesh and blood, yet remains upright, in her conviction of the rightness of her cause, and in the certainty of her victory. Her grave face, framed by delicate muslin, is the face of the motherland, bending over the bedside of her dying sons, and draping their suffering in the folds of a mother’s veil. A pure face, symbol of our race, spotless and without blemish, bright with beauty down the centuries, which soars over slanders and muddy battlefields – a face in which we see reflected all that we have suffered, all that we have hoped, all the reasons we have fought, and why the best of us have given their lives in the struggle.