 Hollywood, California, Monday, August 17th. Lux Radio Theatre presents John Bowles and the Vagabond King with Evelyn Venable. This presents Hollywood, our stars, John Bowles and Evelyn Venable, our producer Cecil B. DeMille, our guests, Robert Grisken and Geneva Sawyer, and our director of music, Louis Silvers. Welcome also to the distinguished personalities in our audience. Craig Reynolds, Adrian Ames, Mrs. John Bowles and Helen McFadden of the McFadden Publications to our listeners, seen and unseen, greetings from Lux. It is fitting that this program should come to you from this city of stars because nowhere in the world are Lux Flakes better known or more extensively used than in the leading motion picture studios here in Hollywood. For washing woolens, prints, silks, in fact for all fabrics that are washable, the studios know how newness is prolonged, how colors are protected by washing with those light, sheer but marvelously effective Lux Flakes. The flakes that have made cake soap rubbing a thing of the past. And now may I again present as our producer the man who has given us dozens of our best known performers and 62 of our great motion pictures. He comes direct to the Lux Radio Theatre from one of the big stages at Paramount where he is now filming the Plainsman. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight's play had its beginning more than a hundred years before Shakespeare was born. In those days a tragic harlequin roamed the streets of Paris, drinking in its cellars and sleeping in its garretts. He had the conscience of a pickpocket and the soul of a poet. His name was Francois Vuitton. Almost five centuries later, Justin Huntley McCarthy wrote Vuitton's story in a play called If I Were King. E. H. Southern starred in it. And in that first company I had the honor to be one of Francois Vuitton's vagabonds, the worst cutthroat in the play called André Caillir. It was excellent training for my later career, my actors tell me. With us in the cast were two lovely ladies, Constance Adams and Margaret Ellington. Yesterday Ms. Adams and I celebrated our 34th wedding anniversary. And Margaret Ellington, then the wife of Daniel Froman, later married Major Bowles. A few years ago the play reappeared on Broadway with Rudolf Frimmel's music and a new title, The Vagabond King. And starring in it tonight is John Bowles, who starred in the first production of the Lux Radio Theater almost two years ago. Fate tried to keep John off the stage. At the University of Texas he was a star pitcher, not a pitcher star. He once struck out 26 batters in a double header, which brought him three offers from the major leagues. He preferred to study medicine. But when the war broke out, John enlisted. He spent 22 months overseas and was wounded twice. Returning to the United States he taught French in Glens Falls, New York. But the next season found him on the New York stage. As the star of The Vagabond King, he is the only player who has starred in the Lux Radio Theater four times. Featured with him is Laughing Eyes, so called by the Iroquois tribe that adopted her, but better known as Evelyn Venable. Ms. Venable won a place in Walter Hampton's repertoire company with the performance of Juliet. The balcony for that performance was the halo in the barn at Walter Hampton's Connecticut farm. Her audience was Mr. Hampton and her father. After several seasons with the Hampton players, she was signed by Paramount and has been on the screen ever since. In tonight's play she appears as a lady in the court of King Louis XI. And now the Lux Radio Theater presents The Vagabond King, starring John Bowles as Francois Villon and Evelyn Venable as Lady Catherine. In Paris it's in the 15th century. Louis XI sits on the throne, but his violent subjects plot and grumble in the furcone tavern, haunt of thieves and murderers. Tonight a fire is burning on the massive heart and stretched before it on the floor is Francois Villon, played by John Bowles. He's an unkempt youth with vivid eyes, dark hair and a tangle beard. Besides Villon sits, you get a slim dark-haired beauty who prods him in the ribs with her foot, as she demands an answer to her question. Answer me! Answer me, Francois! Stop kicking me, would you? I want to look at your face! Answer me! I've never seen it upside down before! Answer me, you fat friend! Tabry swears you've been out of jail two days, and this is the first I've seen of you two whole days! Pant enrobing the streets of Paris! Tabry swears you've spent him in scribbling verses to a lady, a great lady in the palace of the king! Ah, Tabry is a loose-mouthed mongrel! The sharp nose for your scent helps landish you a common thief in the frenzy over a lady in Louis' court. Naffable, that's what it is! Ah, now, just a moment, you're in the frenzy! I'm laughing! Answer me! Don't you care a fig about me? Oh, a lot of figs, my pretty one. As I've answered you countless times, but not enough for friends. Now come. What's the news since I went to jail? Oh, I wish you'd rot it there. I'll go away, be a clown. We're the whole court for all I care. Oh, you get. Why can't we chat comfortably? Count me my wine. Well, you're mugged empty again. That's the last drop you'll get from this tavern without money. Ah, well, there are other taverns in Paris. Have no fear, pretty one. I'm not leaving. Then why do you open the door? Ah, there's magic in the air tonight. See it? No, I feel a chill. Ah, here's queer magic. What? Two muffled figures at the head of the street. They're coming this way. Two customers? Ah, perhaps. Come along, you get. We'll go tell the mistress of the tavern. The prospect of new business may thaw the old elephant. Hmm, I suppose you'll tell her that you'll drop them here. Why not, you get? Why not? Look here. The door is open. Really, get on. Get on. Get on. No, no, stop butting. And come in. A new-looking place. A sort of cellar. What did you expect? A bird's nest? I had no illusions, Your Majesty. No majesty here, fool. Plain dewy. You go shouting that I'm the king of France. What's the good of my being snuffed under this itchy cloak? You're well disguised, sir. Hmm, so this is the pristine place. The Percon Tavern. Ah, an un-savoury spot. Be bright, man. Look at my flight. The Duke of Burgundy, but the full armed force is just without the fair estates. My throne sways like a rocking chair. But do I pull a sad face? Worse, you run sniffing about taverns after the skirts of a winch. Hmm, winch. Honourily describes my kin's woman, the Lady Catherine de Vercel, as she's coming here tonight. Or so I heard. As for sniffing about taverns, you forget that I dreamed a dream last night. Dreams and stars and women while Paris goes to the dogs. I dreamed that I was a swine rooting in the streets of Paris. That I found a pearl of great price in the gutter. I took it and set it in my crown. But it shone so bright it filled all Paris with its light. Then a great star fell from heaven. Who are those creatures in the other room? The worst cats and rats in all Paris. Bullies, wantons, thieves, murderers. A bad company for a king. Look, look over there. That young bearded fellow standing near the doorway with a tavern mistress. Oh, the fellow with the cocky air. Yes, he's Francois Villon, their leader. Francois Villon. Poet, pit pocket, drinker and scholar. In their thieves' language, they call him King of the Vagabond. Now leave me be. Come, please, Mrs. Havana, one more mug of wine, please. You've had all you'll get on things. Pardon, sir, will you honor me? Honor you, sir? By drinking at my expense. Mistress, a bottle of your finest wine. Yes, please, sir. Tristan, give me a gold coin. A gold coin? Hey, everybody, come here. Not everybody, monsieur. We'll all honor you, monsieur. And if we ever meet in a dark alley, remind me of this and I'll let you go. Come, all of you, we drink to the downfall of the treacherous Duke of Burgundy. Oh, monsieur, you are a pituit. Say, rather a poet, town with Burgundy makes good rhyming. Yes, excellent. Now, what is your balance? Sons of toil and danger, will you serve a stranger and fall down to Burgundy? Sons of shame and sorrow, will you cheer tomorrow for the town of Burgundy? Conward, conward, so it's against the foe that he plans to go. Sons of ponds around us break the chain that found us and do a hell with Burgundy. Sons of toil and danger, will you serve a stranger and fall down to Burgundy? Sons of shame and sorrow, will you cheer tomorrow for the town of Burgundy? She's a pituit Burgundy. Can't hear you all right. Ah, he may. We ever get a real king? Thank you too much for your help. Well, what can honest thieves do what drink? With a bloodthirsty enemy at our door and a helpless nuncompoop upon the throne. I nuncompoop. And no doubt, Francois Vien, you could do better than the king if you were in his place. Francois has made a rhyme about that too. So, maybe not here. Well, if you'll buy another drink, Sire. Very well. Begin. The figure on the throne you see is nothing but a puppet. Planned to wear the royal bravery of self-concult and bullet wand. Not so we Frenchmen understand. We bit the damned Burgundian dance. And such a one would take command. If be all were the king of France. I've been waiting for you, sniveling devil. Another time. The king's archers are on the corner. The king's archers are on the corner. The king's archers are on the corner. Aye, a whole mess full of them. All of you in there, strangers. Hurry. Stop. Let me go. You is your tool, sniveling devil. In you go. Hop in, Tabary. Close the door. Tabary, are you sure it's the king's archers or are you just being playful? I'm sure, all right. But what's more, Francois? There's an answer to your pretty verses. What? She's here. The lady of the court. The lady? Will you come inside, your gracious reverend? Is the man I seek here. There, by the fire. Excuse me, your gracious reverend. Are you he, they call Francois Ville? Aye. The room is so dark. I can't see my way. Your hand. Thank you. Is this be dreaming? God never let me wake again. You wrote me this verse. If I were king, I'll love. If I were king, what tributary nature nations would I bring to kneel before your step? And to swear allegiance to your lips, your eyes, your hair, beneath your feet. What treasures would I fling if I were king? Why did you send me this verse? Because you're all my dreams of loveless. Because I love you, Lady Catherine. I love you. Monsieur. Yes. I... Is your heart always so jumpy? Why? What are you staring at? Well, that frantic rose tossing on your breast. May I have it? What sort of man are you? Briefly, one who steals without shame, sticks a dagger in his enemy, and sleeps with an easy conscience. There, you have my virtues, my lady. My vices. At best, you mean a puzzle. You risk such things for yourself. What would you do for my asking? What could I do for such as you? Something dearer to me than life itself. What could be dearer than your life? France. My France. Your France. Listen, François Vio. I've learned that our grand marshal, Thibault Dossigny, would sell our France to the Duke of Burgundy and plots to open the gates of Paris to his army. What can I do? Thibault is coming here any moment to meet one of your men who is in the pay of Burgundy. You declare you love me. With all the meaning love can have. Enough to kill Thibault Dossigny? Kill? You spoke of daggers, but perhaps you didn't expect to be taken at your word. What I didn't hope to be, you'll stay and point him out. Where can I wait? Up those stairs, on that gallery. You can reach the street from there. There's someone at the door. Your hand, quick, to the balcony. You're safe up here. There's Margot going to open the door. Who's there? Open the door. That's Thibault's voice. You're still seen and raised that it's quiet at this hour. The door was unlatched, monsieur. Then why not show a light? Oil and wicks have their price. There's a man here by the name of, uh, Rene. There is. Send him to me at once. You kill someone here. So, sly old Rene is in the pay of Burgundy, hmm? You'll kill me if Thibault. You have my word. That's Rene. You ask for me? I did. Tell me, how is your garden, friend? He grapes, all right. That's right. Monsieur Thibault, this note was carried to me by a Gundian owl. Shot over the walls at noon. Give it to me. Hmm. The Duke of Burgundy agrees to give me a duke dove and the maid Catherine de Versailles. That's you. Yeah, that's you. That's you. Not that. Oh, King Louis has denied me the maid. Very well, it shall cost him his crown. You sure? Quiet. Let me read further. You go now, Lady Catherine. Leave Thibault to me. You will not fail. I'll play the drunken mave. Engage him in a fight and then my sword shall do the rest. For the glory of France. You asked me for this rose, Francois de Ville. I give it to you now. My lady. May heaven give you speed. Farewell. What's that? There's someone on that belt in it. Hello, hello. Well, wait, my friend. I'm coming down. Who is this drunken fool? It's only Francois de Ville. Aye-aye, Francois de Ville. Yes, Francois de Ville. Good evening, monsieur. Would you crack a bottle with me? Out of my way, Guzzler. Oh, not so fast. Let's go. Guzzler, did you say? Apologize. Go, you drunken dog. Oh, so you will strike me, huh? You will strike Francois de Ville. Francois, what's happened here? Stand back. Friends, why, this rogue has insulted me. Draw your sword, rogue. I'll draw them kill you through your spine. Your Majesty, he's too old. He, he, he do. The old has run him through. In the king's name. Captain... You ought to see him. That devil there, Francois de Ville, take him out and hang him. Stand back. One moment, Captain. That young gentleman is my affair. Who dares delay the king's justice? I am the king's justice. I am the king. Your Majesty. I was here. I was in part the king. You? Francois de Ville. Captain Cage, this man. Yes, Your Majesty. Wait, wait. If the Ville were the king of France, how was that just good rhyming? Your prison cells don't frighten me. If I'm not a better man than Louis do nothing, Louis dare nothing, may I never drink wine again. Is there one heart in all France that you hold, even as I hold my rabble in this tavern? Is there one enemy of France that you can down? As I just down that bouncing crater with his long sword, take me to your dungeon prison, hide me away from all the world, and still I'll say, Unsullied will our banner stand, if we all were the king of France. Our play, The Vagabond King, starring John Bowles and Evelyn Venable, will be resumed shortly. But now we're at the Union Air Terminal at Burbank, just a few miles from Hollywood, and we're right up where, in just a minute, we should see the big silver-gray New York transport take-off. A baggage truck has just pulled up to this giant plane, and bags and suitcases are being stowed away in the luggage compartment. Two women are standing against the passenger's gate to the field, watching their bags being put aboard. Isn't it thrilling? This is my first trip. I've lost count of mine, but I still get excited. You must know all the ropes. Oh yes, you just asked me anything. What about baggage? I nearly died trying to keep mine down to 35 pounds. Oh, that's a cinch with my system. Tell me about it. Oh, that's easy, darling. Never more than two of a kind, and everything luxible. Yes, a wardrobe of luxibles solves the limited wardrobe problem for the smart crowd that travels by air, just as it does for the girl who has only a small amount to spend for clothes. Carried for with luxe flakes, colors, and fabrics keep their lovely brand-new look for ages. These tissue-thin flakes have no harmful alkali. They do not fade things. And with luxe, there's no rubbing. You can trust to safe, gentle luxe, silks, chiffons, woolens, rayons, and acetates. Anything that's safe in water alone is safe in luxe. We continue with the Vagabond King, starring John Bowles as Francois Vieux and Evelyn Benable as Lady Catherine. It is late the same night, and Francois Vieux rages in a prison cell where the King's guards have thrown him for his rashness. But the King is still uncertain and uneasy. With his aide Tristan, he has come to the Court of Strologer for a reading, and now they stand in a tower, scanning the starlit sky with anxious eyes. Well, well, Strologer, what have the stars divulged about my dream? The position of the moon and Jupiter bespeak Your Majesty's dream as one of immediate moment. This is if your pearl of great price that you found in the gutter indicates that there is a person in the depths who, if he be exalted to the heights, may serve and save your kingdom. As did the maid of Orléans. May happen. What means the star that fell from heaven? There, the reading is confused. It may mean that this same creature from the depths, if he be exalted to the heights, will, at the end of four and twenty hours, fall of his own weight, exalted from the depths, you say, for four and twenty hours, and fall of his own weight. That would be all. Your Majesty. Quick, one thing more. What message is there for me in the heavens concerning my suit for the fair Lady Catherine? Your Majesty, I... Then we'll be there. There are some things, Your Majesty, that even the stars cannot fathom. Good night, astrologer. Your Majesty, soil. You heard the astrologer. A person exalted from the depths may yet save France. Tristan, I have this hour appointed a new Grand Marshal of France. Oh, thank you. Thank you, sir. No, no, no, not you. Francois Villon. Francois Villon. Don't stop there, keeping. Now, tonight, you'll see to it that a flagon of drugged wine is placed in the prison store. Let him awake tomorrow morning in the palace. Washed, bearded, sumptuously dressed, so change his very mother would not know him. You and I alone will know of this. But, sire. There are no buts. Jean-Doc saved my sire's throne, may not Villon save mine. Then you are going to spare his life. Francois Villon will live. For four and twenty hours. Then, he hangs. Look here, Your Majesty. I know it sounds crazy, and you hate to keep telling me, but for the last time, who am I? Now, last night, I was Francois Villon. And this morning, you are the Count of Montcorpierre, a new Grand Marshal of France. Grand Marshal of France? I can't make out whether I'm drunk, mad or dreaming. Was it a dream? That you could be a better king than I? No, sire. That was true enough. Good. Well, how would you like to be king? Well, that solves it. We're both drunk. Not so fast. King, save for four and twenty hours, until this time tomorrow. And after? Well, and after? By then, you'll be yourself again, the self-same thief and cut throat. You should build me a great gallows, and your last act as king will be to hang Francois Villon. Come, sire, you don't actually mean it. Are you so keen to live? I never knew I was. Until yesterday. You'd rather crawl back to your gutter, live out your petty, sorry life than die to fulfill your dream? Living is sweet habits, sire. Whether it be in a palace or the gutter, and who knows what the moral holds, but death is, it's so final. Let me go, let me free. I'm free to run howling with your tail between your legs. What is it? There's a page, Your Majesty. Come from Lady Catherine de Purcell. The Lady begs audience for the new Grand Marshal. The new Grand Marshal is no more. Take this whimpering thing that boasts it so. Strip him of his silks, and whip him back to his kennel. Wait. Lady Catherine begs audience of me. Of a man. Not a occurer who dare call himself a king. Go. No, wait. Wait, please, listen to me. I, uh, may I still choose? For the last time. You said that I might rule for a day if after and after hang, is that right? Precisely. On your word of honor, sire? My word is my honor. Very well. So be it. King for a day. And afterwards, the gallows. I was told I might have audience of the new Grand Marshal. I am he. I am Catherine de Purcell. I know. As Grand Marshal, monsieur, you hold the lives of prisoners in your hand. I have come to beg a favor of you. Yes. You hold in prison now a certain Francois Villon. Oh, yes, I do. I ask that this man's life be spared. What is his crime? He risked his life to kill a traitor who deserved to die. Oh, is this Villon so fired by patriotism? Why, no. He did this because a woman asked it. He thought he loved her. He thought, you say? He wrote her verses. Oh, a rabid poet, I see. But, uh, why do you plead for his life? Because I am that woman. You risked his grace and great punishment telling me this? He risked his life. You don't, by some strange chance, think that you love him, do you? I? He's of the streets. Oh. A common thief and nobody. I've blundered. Still, he does not deserve to die. Does anyone? Your wish is granted. Villon is free. Free? Well, as free as I am. I am deeply grateful for your kindness. Oh, wait, please. Don't go at once. I too would ask a favor. Not as a bargain. But if you choose to grant it freely, as a gift. Yes. I quite realize why this fellow risked his life for you. How from his kennel he looked up at you and thrilled, even as a muddy pool might thrill at the moon in heaven. Monsieur. You've startled. I seem to remember you. Remember? Yes. I seem to have known you always. Really, sir? I think your poet, uh, what is his name? Francois Villon must have felt as I do now. How do you know that? How do I know? How do I know I live? I'm somewhat of a poet too, Lady Catherine. And I love a lady, as Villon thinks he loves you. I saw her first on a waiter mass. She saw me no more than the cobblestone she stepped on. She seemed to be listening to words her heart was speaking. Sonday, you will seek me and find more for days that shall be. Found her again. I care little to be flattered and less to be wooed. What can I do to with you? There is no time to talk of love. I had a hope that a man had come to court, a man who will rid Brantse of Burgundy, a treacherous enemy as at our gate, and no one has dared to strike. And if that man has come? My love is all for Brantse, and to the man who saved her. With you close by. What miracles might I not achieve? Lady Catherine. Lady Catherine. Your Majesty. I grieve at shattering this tender interval. It is not I who intrude but business of state. What business, Sire? The Herald of Burgundy has come for answer under the flag of Proust. He awaits our pleasure in the panel. Tristan. Your Majesty. See Lady Catherine to be in our chamber. I know the way myself, Your Majesty. Well, well, Brantseois, power tastes sweet, does it not? You meet the lady now on an equal footing. I thank you, Your Majesty. I please but myself. And, Brantseois, if the Count de Montcourbier should win the heart of Lady Catherine, Vioe shall escape the gallows and the Count will marry his lady. You mean that, Sire, on your word of honour? My word is my honour. Is Lady Catherine, if she offers me her love, I may go free? That is the bargain. I'll go now to the chamber. At once, Sire. Your Majesty, this is madness. Hold your tongue, Tristan. You offer him his life? Only if he should win the Lady Catherine. Why, Your Majesty? Why do you meet this man, bargain? My measure of revenge. Mr. Catherine has earned me too long. It'll be spot when the lady finds she has the same my love to smile upon a beggar. I overhear their meeting, Tristan. She stirs him on to great deeds against Burgundy. He'll fight for hers. He would never have thought for her. Come, the herald awaits us in the palace. I am anxious to hear beyond after. The Herald of Burgundy. The name of the Duke of Burgundy. Greetings to lawyer France. Greetings and be brief. Will it be peace? A war. The Lord Brent Marshall will answer that. I, Your Majesty. You, Grant Marshall? Well, is it peace of our terms? One moment, please. Just one moment, please. Lord Tristan, the court is dull in one's excitement. You are good at planning faiths. We give a ball tonight, a masquerade. At a time like this? A masquerade. King Louis, what is the spoiler? He is king for today. He speaks for France. Now, then, Herald? Duke of Burgundy summons you to surrender. If you refuse, it means disaster for you. Disaster? Disaster spilling of blood, manifold death, and gold to pay. Great words, Herald of Burgundy. In God's name and the king's? Go back to your master and say, We are well fed. We are well armed. We lie snug and warm behind our Paris walls. We laugh at your traitorous master. This is our answer. This is the drawn sword. God and St. Denis for the king of France! God and St. Denis for the king of France! For station identification, this is the Columbia broadcasting system. You are invited to attend the ball in the palace, which the Lux Radio Theatre will present shortly as the third episode of the Vagabond King starring John Bowles with Evelyn Vannibal. But before starting out for this brilliant court function, let's take a dancing lesson. On the stage of our theatre tonight is Geneva Sawyer, a dance director at 20th Century Fox. A few months ago, Miss Sawyer was only a member of the chorus, but opportunity tapped at her door. Opportunity in this case was Bill Robinson, the great Negro tap dancer, who chose her for his assistant in teaching new steps to his most famous pupil, Shirley Temple. Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Geneva Sawyer. A dance director's hardest job is not teaching new steps, but discovering them. And I think we've succeeded in discovering an entirely new dance for the big new musical show at 20th Century Fox, Pigskin Parade. We've named it the Balboa. Balboa discovered a new ocean. I suppose you've discovered a new motion. That describes it, and I believe you'll see it dance everywhere this fall. It will be performed for the first time in the picture and by such stars as Jack Haley, Betty Gravel, Patsy Kelly, Dixie Dunbar, and that great singing quartet, The Yacht Club Boys. The Yacht Club Boys. They must have found their icy legs. Their dancing is still subject to doubt, Mr. DeMille. They may be called the Yacht Club Boys, but their feet are more like tugboats. But in a couple of weeks, they'll Balboa with the best of them. When dancing is regarded as a pleasure and relaxation, it's really very easy to master. The only part of our dancing that's hard work is caring for the costumes. We often change costumes five or six times a day, yet they must always be fresh and new looking for the camera. This means constant freshening. But at 20th Century Park, we've learned to depend entirely on luxe flakes for everything washable. Luxe not only protects the colors, it prolongs newness and makes our costumes look lovelier. To those young men and women who hope to get dancing jobs in movies, my advice is first to get as good in education as you can. Secondly, don't let any physical impediment keep you from dancing. Just remember that the man who established ballet dancing, Sebastian Simoli, lost both feet as a boy. Jack Donahue, a former riveter, broke both kneecaps but became dance director at Fox. And Bobby Ars, one of the cleverest dancers on the stage today, learned to dance after an attack of infantile paralysis. If you want to dance, you will. Good night. Good night, Papa. And now we continue with the vagabond king starring John Bowles as Francois Vieux and Evelyn Venable as Lady Catherine. Francois Vieux's one day of glory has come to an end. Night has fallen. The ball is in progress and the palace and surrounding gardens are bright with festivity. In a dark corner of the garden, Vieux's standing half hidden. When out of the shadows, Tabary, his friend from the furcone tavern, suddenly appears. Francois. Tabary, what news? Are our men ready for the attack on Burgundy? The archers and the army. No, not those mercenaries. I mean our men, our people, Tabary, who strike at Burgundy with hatred of traitors in their hearts, with love of Paris and their souls. Every butthouse swarms attend the night they await their orders from the Grand Marshal, who lifted the tax of their wine, opened the prison doors and gave them food. Oh, it's a new Paris from Soir, alive, fighting Paris. And all for how little? Not one-twentieth part of what is theirs by right. You're doing well, Tabary. Go, keep amongst them every minute till we ride at ten. If we meet again, well met, Grand Tabary. If not, well, we've had our day. Why, you leave the ballet, Lady Catherine? To see what great new wonders you've worked in the hour you've been gone. Or do you truly believe I've worked wonders? I do. You've made the king popular, the Parisians loyal, the army faithful. And I think now I've guessed the reason for this fate. That Burgundy might think me a giddy fool. The king's court in Orgy, and tonight the hour to catch us unprepared. But our swords are tempered in the wine. At ten we strike. I would, I were a man that I might go with you. You would go with me? Why do you say that? I'll tell you, tomorrow. Tonight. You ask a maiden to be too unmaidenly. But this night is all we have. Oh, Catherine, I love you dearly, outlandishly, with a love so hopeless that it's done for me. Or I can find no reason why you should love me. Do you hear? Not one word. True loving is without rhyme or reason. Now then, would you sing? Would I sing? When we met this morning, you sang. It was oddly stirring. Paris lust for blood, I'd die of love and you'd have me sing. Well, but it so happens that last night, as I tossed upon some straw, I thought of a rose I once begged of a lady, and I made a song about it. But I'd not sing at all unless you come closer. Oh, so much closer. Yes, yes, what is it? A message, my lord, from one of the guests. I'd like to see you at the north end of the garden at once. At once? Very unfortunate. Did he give his name? No, my lord. Tell him to wait, I'll be there. Catherine. Until later. You'll stay here? I promise not to move. I'll not be long. Well, monsieur? Not this year, Francois. You can't! What are you doing here? Francois, I had to come. Indeed, this guy. The only way I could get in. How did you know that I was here? The news has leaked out that you're with new grand marshal. Oh, Tabary again. He talks too much. Francois, you must leave her at once. I'll leave. Thibaut Dossigny is born to kill you. Thibaut. Yes, the one you almost said to Hades last night. He and Renee are here with enough men to overpower all your gods. They're in the sky. Thibaut Dossigny? This time I'll have to finish him for good. Francois, you can't. You won't even know him. But I can't leave now. Your life is in danger. I can't leave now. Oh, there's something holding you here. You've found your lady. Yes. And does she love you, Francois? I love her. I thought you would never really care for me, did you, Francois? I'm sorry, Hugo. No, don't be sorry. Be happy. I want you to be. I think of you often. And I'll think of you. I'll remember how gay we were together and the times we had. What songs you sang. No, you sang. Oh, Hugo. Forgive me. What's that? Thibaut. There's someone hiding in the shadows. It's Thibaut. Quick, Francois. Your life. Relate, Francois. Stand where you are. Ah, Monsieur Thibaut. I bid you welcome. I hope it's your sole Godspeed when I plunge this dagger in your throat. No. Have you reckoned on the King's archers, good Thibaut? They're just outside the walls. Cry out but once and you've done. No. So be it. Archers! That's what a dagger is. In your throat. You can't stand back. You've stopped me. Dean, this is your last ten for me. Your Majesty, it's time to leave. Take care, Thibaut. This time may be on running through for good. That girl on the ground, Thibaut, has killed her. And now he pays the price. Take him. You must slow to the hilt. That's the other guy. Holy! There's the other guy. There's the other guy. Right here. You get it. Why did you do it? Why did you rush between us? It doesn't matter, Francois. My life is such a little thing. Hold me. I'm going. No, no. Hold me close, Francois. I'm so afraid I'll let you see again. God forgive me. He knows his children. You will always hope for Francois. Give me just... You get? You get? Oh, that you should die for me. As should or not she has, and the hour strikes its pen. The hour for battle, Sire. For a moment, I... May she be taken with all gentleness to the palace. At once, heed to it, Tristan. Yes, Sire. And you, sir, for your deeds against the traitor Thibaut, ask us any grace. Sire. Accept your life. That depends upon your lady. Well? Before I tell you, Sire, order Tristan to erect a gallows tree facing your church on the Plastigrad, lest I appear to both. Your gallows tree, yet you hope to win. Hope dies hard, Sire. But Lady Catherine is royally proud. She may not relish the deception. Pardon the cheat, his lie. You mean to tell her? Everything. She shall know me before she makes her choice. If she refuses the assured, you'll swing. And gladly, for what is life if it be a lie? Gentlemen. Ah, my dear Lady Catherine. Whatever keeps you here this long? Oh, some trifling matters of the life and death. It's struck ten, your Excellency. I know. I'm sorry. And I now must take my leave, Lady Catherine. But first I have to tell you... First, I too have this to say to you, sir. Outrage decorum, though it may, wear this token with my prayer. My lady. And with it, I give you my hand. Oh, wait. And my heart. Charming charm. Say no more until you know me. Know you? Look at me. Look closely. Do you see nothing to remind you? Yes. Of honor, of manhood. Of shining hours among bright roses. No, no. Of last night, a gloomy tavern of a thief who wrote you a long love song. What of him? Simply this. I am that thief. You? I am Francois Fillon. Oh, it's not true. It can't be true, Sire. Quite true, my royal friend. You are betrothed to a jailbird. A full-fledged scavenger. Oh, I see. You've veked a royal revenge upon me, Sire. And you, sir, why did you do this? I love you. Love? You shame the word. To you, love, but a cunning trick, a boast to mock me with. Well, I know you now. Go back to your dregs, your filthy tavern and boast. You may well gloat, sir. I'm spared beyond forgetting. Lady Catherine, now, she's gone. You'll hang, Master Fillon. As a thief, she first badly surfers. As a thief, I go to fight for her tonight. Sire, the archers will defend the lower gate. The lower gate, but who fights at the crossroads? I. I and the beggars of the slums. The thieves out of the prisons. We fight at the crossroads. Do you hear that song, Sire? My song. This song you hoped Burgundy might hear. Look, Sire, the rebel of Paris armed with Axis knives. The boys of Paris drunk in spire. Sire, they fill the gardens. Friends, vagabonds. You've not failed me. No more carpier, but first for beyond each other. Right for the mothers that bore you. The women that love you. The children that renew you. Forward in God's name. Oh, Miss Brachon, and to cheerfully, Your Majesty. No further news of the battle, Christa? None, Sire. Where did they come from? John the Sire. They are building a jibbit to hang Francois Villon when and if he returns. Your Majesty. Ah, fair Catherine, you arrived early. I've been to Mac. To ease your heart. My heart is on the battlefield, Sire. With France? Yes, yes, I know, and I'm bless you for it. But France is a broad target for a little art. It's time you narrow it down to say a Frenchman. I have. Have you know? Just since last night. I've realized so many things since the entire. So much happened so quickly last night. That unreasoning pride confused the truth. The truth? I fear it will startle you. And that's pointless now. As I doubt I shall ever see him again. Oh, Villon. No, no, probably you won't. And that would be kinder to all concerned than to see him dangling on that gallows. That gallows? It's for France, Villon, if he survives the night. Sire, do you say this to torture me? Oh, does it torture you? Is this the reward for bravery? For courage? The reward he gambled for. Your hand in marriage, or the gallows? My hand in marriage? That could never have been my rank, forbidding. I count it on that, Nellie. Your Majesty. Well, Catherine. Sire, your grand marshal returns in triumph. Your archers and his fighting rabble at his heels. Victory! I summon the queen and all the court. And madman has saved my throne. As the maid of all the arms has saved you from my sire. He clums! And see how they pour into the square after him. They've gone wild! It's chaos! An hour ago they flung over the gungeon helmet. They used to drink the king's health. Evaginous view to the end, Sire. Pray speed the end. As you wish, Sire. Here you, all my last duty. Some among you know me as Count Morcarbier. Some as Francois Villeau. I fought and lost the heathen. And it is now my task as your grand marshal to declare the life of Francois Villeau forfeit. And to pronounce upon him this sentence. There will be straightway hanged on your end of jibbit. Listen to your people. He lends France to victory. You are France. Will you let him die like this? My good people. You've heard Master Villeau and the lady here. If there be one among you ready to take this hero's face on yonder gallows, let him speak and come forward. What? No one. No man shall die for me. We're wasting time. Take me to the gallows. Wait! I claim your credit. You choose to die in this man's place? I offer the hand that fares his life. That's falling. Madness. No. I love you. All right. By last night you loathed him. I was blinded. You mean this? I do, Francois Villeau. Your rank for Villeau. I renounce my rank. Before you all. I'm Catherine de Beaucelle, Grand Central of Gasconia. In my domain I hold the power of life and death, which I now renounce with all my rank. That I may claim to marry this gentleman. A star has fallen to me out of heaven. A star. My dream. My dream to stand, the stars have spoken. To keep your land and title, Catherine, and God speed you with this freak to a priest. Sire. Do you love me, Francois Villeau? With all my being, I worship you. I prayed for a man with the soul of a king. My prayers have been answered. Louis of France? We ask your blessing. You have it, but there's no more playing king for you, little man. Never, Sire. It would be a great nuisance, then, with a star to cherish. Plays like journeys end in lovers' meeting, but John Bowles and Evelyn Venable return in a moment. The man you will hear next is one of the most successful scenario writers in Hollywood. Winner of the Motion Picture Academy Award for that classic of the bus lines, it happened one night. His many hits include The Whole Town's Talking, Broadway Bill, and The Current Box Office Windfall, Mr. Deeds Goes to Town. A former playwright and producer, he has written every picture directed by Frank Capra during the last five years. And in a few weeks, you will see his adaptation of James Hilton's best-selling novel, Lost Horizons, starring Ronald Coleman. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Robert Riskin. Thank you. I'm a little nervous. What do I do now? Just talk into that microphone. It won't talk back at me, will it? No, no. That's the beauty of microphones. You can whisper in its ear or bark your head off. It holds its tongue. Haven't you ever spoken on a radio before? Yes, just once, about 10 years ago. I spoke in the interest of a player of mine. Nobody ever came to see it after that. If the luck sales fall off next week, you'll know the reason why. Luck sales never fall off. I'll have you know. Yes, I know. It's the finest product in the market. What do I say now? Talk about yourself. Why? That's the reason you're here. I thought I was selling lucks. Here you are. But you've been a very successful writer in Hollywood, and we'd like to know the secret. Say, look, I know a good knock-knock. Oh, come, not you. Knock-knock. All right. Who's there? DeMille. DeMille who? The mills of the God's grind slow. But they do grind, exceeding small. I know another one. Never mind, never mind. We're trying to find out the secret of your success. I saw Mr. Deeds go to town. It's a grand picture. How'd you ever think of the word pixelated? I thought of the people who pay my salary every week. Knock-knock. Who's there? I see you're catching the spirit of the thing. I'm very quick. Well, who's there? Lucks. Lucks who? Lucks like this interview ought to come to an end, don't you think? Not until you answer the question. What's the formula for success in Hollywood for a writer? Oh, that's a cinch. Now, you're going to be serious, aren't you? Oh, yes. All right. How can a writer succeed? He's finding himself a magnificent director like Frank Capra. I agree. Or one like you. Thanks for including me. Oh, no idiot. Indeed, you're not. You've worked with Frank Capra a long time. Nearly five years. Any trouble? Trouble. It's the longest vacation I've ever had in my life, with pay. Now, venture to say working on The Lost Horizon was no vacation. I'm sorry you mentioned that. You're forcing me to be serious. It's the one job I'm really excited about. Did you read the James Hilton book? Yes. Beautiful, wasn't it? Truly great. I'm going to write this story for Grace Moore's next picture. You can ask more questions. And you give so little information. Did you write it or didn't you? Yes, I did. I think the audience would be interested in hearing what technique you follow in writing a picture. Knock, knock. What is your method of approach? Knock, knock. Would you rather adapt the story or write an original? Knock, knock. All right, who's there? Yvonne. Yvonne who? Yvonne to go home. Good night. Good night. And now, Evelyn Venable and John Bowles. It seems odd not to be at home tonight, listening to the Lux Radio Theater. By an hour house, John, Mr. DeMille has 48 regular fans. Really? Well, that's more than I had when I played baseball at school. Yes. There's myself, my husband, and our baby. Then there's Tessie, the English Bull Terrier, Jim the Turtle, three Tomcats, and 40 Goldfish. The animals came in two by two, the elephant and the kangaroo. What are you waiting for, Evelyn, another flood? Not quite. But I'm waiting for. It's to learn how John likes to be directed by a woman. His next picture, Craig's wife, is being filmed by the only woman director in Hollywood. Yes, Dorothy Ozner. Very good director, too. Well, speak for yourself, John. Well, I've been bossed by women all my life. But seriously, it's really a pleasure working with Miss Ozner. Rosslyn Russell, though, plays the part of my wife, and Rosslyn has to boss me, nag me, and know well almost to death. Sometimes I wish I'd been a ball player after all. I think you've done better in pictures. I saw you play last summer when the leading men played the comedians. John pitched for the leading men. After the game, the comedians voted him their most valuable player. Well, you see, Mr. DeMille, I was just a little off-born that day. Why, I might have even been a member of the Cleveland Indians today. I've beaten you there, John. As Mr. DeMille said, I'm already a member of the Indians, the Iroquois. And he said your name in English is laughing eyes. What is it, an Indian? Oh, that's something I don't know, John. Laughing eyes. Well, it's probably a great deal like mini-ha-ha. And now, Mr. DeMille, my thanks to you for so many delightful Monday nights, both past and future. Good night, everyone. And by the way, CB, when you're picking actors for your picture, the Plainsmen, don't take any wooden Indians. Good night. Good night, picture. Mr. Bowles and Miss Venable. Ladies and gentlemen, this is your announcer, Melville Ruick. Supporting our stars tonight were Walter Kingsford, Wyndham Standing, Brett Morrison, Lou Merrill, Cecil Elliott, Margaret McKay, Ross Forrester, Russ Dudley, and Frank Nelson. Mr. Bowles and Mr. Risken appeared through courtesy of Columbia Studios. Mr. DeMille Paramount, and Miss Venable, Miss Sawyer, and Mr. Silver's 20th Century Fox. Mr. Silver's prepared the musical score for their new hit, Sing Baby Sing, and Miss Sawyer is a featured dancer in this picture, with stars Alice Faye and Adolf Maju. Miss Venable will be seen shortly in Star for a Night. Mr. DeMille tells us now of next week's program. Next Monday night, we all have an appointment with a dentist. But it's one dental appointment we can look forward to with pleasure. Because in this case, the gentleman with the drill will be Jack Oakey. Performing for us in the Lux Radio Theater has the small town toothache expert in the stage and screen a picture success one Sunday afternoon. Co-starring with Jack will be Miss Helen 12 Trees. Our sponsors, the makers of Lux Flakes, join me in inviting you to be our guest next Monday night when the Lux Radio Theater presents one Sunday afternoon, starring Jack Oakey and Helen 12 Trees. This is Cecil B. DeMille saying good night to you from Hollywood. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.