 From Hollywood, California, the Lux Radio Theatre presents Madeline Carroll and Herbert Marshall in romance. Lux presents Hollywood and extends thanks to you, ladies and gentlemen, for your purchases of Lux toilet soap and Lux Blake. It is your loyalty to these fine products that enables us to bring you the Lux Radio Theatre every Monday night. This evening, our cast is headed by Herbert Marshall and Madeline Carroll, starring in romance with Ralph Morgan and Claire Dodd. Walter Wanger, Hollywood's eminent producer, will be heard as special guest. Our music is conducted by Louis Silvers. And now, your host and producer. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. For me, as perhaps it does for some of you, tonight's play holds many golden memories and brings me back to the Broadway of exactly 25 years ago to a season of theatrical grandeur seldom seen before or since. It was in February 1913 that this eternally young play romance by Edward Sheldon opened its remarkable run with Doris Keane and William Courtney at the Maxine Elliott Theatre. And it was during that run that Jesse Lasky, Samuel Goldwin and I met at the old Claridge Grill on Broadway and decided to take Horace Greeley's advice and start making pictures in a little town called Hollywood. We wondered if we could persuade Dustin Farnham, then playing in a melodrama called Arizona, to take a chance and star for us in our first motion picture. It was a season that saw Jane Cowell in Within the Law, George M. Cohan in Broadway Jones, Lorette Taylor in Pegor My Heart. At 69, Sarah Bernhardt was playing Voderville at the Palace. George Arliss was starring in Disraeli. Billy Burke, Nazimov and Maud Adams were there. And so were William Favisham and Tyrone Power, father of the present star of that name. At the same time, a young man named Douglas Fairbanks was bounding through a piece called Hawthorne of the USA. And 25 years ago as today, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was playing to packed houses. Only the star then was Marguerite Clark. And so tonight on its 25th anniversary, we bring back romance, a drama as ageless as love itself. Twice a motion picture, our radio play stars one of the loveliest ladies of the screen. Madeleine Carroll as Marguerita Cavalini and Herbert Marshall in the role of Thomas Armstrong, whom we meet for the first, first after he had become Bishop Armstrong. Miss Carroll is now engaged in filming The River is Blue, a Walter Wenger production. And Mr. Marshall has just completed Mad About Music for Universal Studios. As Cornelius Ventile, we welcome that veteran performer Ralph Morgan, while Clare Dodd will be heard as Susan. The Lux Radio Theatre presents Herbert Marshall and Madeline Carroll in romance. Christmas Eve in New York. In the library of a pleasant old house on Washington Square, Bishop Thomas Armstrong rests comfortably in his favorite chair beside the fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches his grandson Gerald, who stands looking out of the window, a worried frown on his face. The silence is broken only by the ticking of the clock. The old Bishop lights his pipe, blows a reflective ring at the high ceiling, and speaks casually. Who is she, Gerald? What's that? I said, who is she? Who is who? The young lady who's causing you so much anxiety. Why, how did you know? When a young man comes to visit his grandfather on Christmas Eve and devotes the entire evening to cracking his knuckles and looking at his watch, I jump to the obvious conclusion. Who is she, Gerald? Well, as a matter of fact, there is someone. I was just debating whether to tell you about it. I'd like your advice, grandfather. Thank you. A great many people have counted me for that, Gerald. Usually it turns out, though, that what they were looking for was a sympathetic listener. Well, that's part of it, too. You see, I can't speak to mother about it, not yet anyway. And, well, you'd better prepare yourself for a shock. You see, I... I'm going to be married. When? You're not surprised? No, not very. It's quite an old custom, you know. What's her name? Lucille Anderson. I don't think you've ever heard of her, but she's an actress. I see. That does surprise you. Just a little. She's very beautiful, I suppose. Yes, she is. And clever, too, and sweet. I never met anyone like her before. When you come right down to it, she's ten times too good for me. She's wonderful, really. Of course she is, of course. Go on, Gerald. Well, things have been pretty tough for her lately. You see, she has no folks, and jobs are scarce, and... Well, she's living all alone in a rotten little boarding house up in the 50s. That's why I... I think I ought to marry her now, right away. You think I'm right, don't you? Well? I don't know, Gerald. You're pretty young, of course. Yes, but... And your life's just beginning. You'll change. And there may come a time when you'll need more than any little actress can ever give you. You've got to be very sure, Gerald. But I am sure. I... I might have known I couldn't make you understand. You changed the minute you heard she was on the stage. No, I didn't, my boy. I didn't change. I only remembered. And I do understand, Gerald. Believe me. I don't see how you could very well. When you were my age, things were different. You were a minister. And ministers don't have emotions, is that it? Well, I... I didn't mean it that way. No, I know. Sit down, Gerald. I want to tell you something. Something I've never told anyone before. I used to think I never would. What is it? Something that happened to me when I was just about your age, nearly 50 years ago. I was rector of St. Giles then. That was before I married your grandmother. Well, one night, in November it was, November 1888, I went to the evening party at all Cornelius van Tiles' house. It was a party in honor of Rita Cavallini, the Italian opera star. She was a beautiful woman, Cavallini. Beautiful and fascinating. The whole town had turned out to meet her. And the old house was blazing with lights. As I came up the front steps, I could hear the laughter in the music. Good evening, Mr. Armstrong. Evening, Joseph. Am I late? Mr. van Tiles has been asking for you. Tom, where have you been? Oh, Susan. I thought you'd never get here. Uncle Cornelius has been pestering me to send a carriage around after you and... Tom. What? What's the matter with your eye? Eye? Your right eye. It's all red. Oh, that. Well, the regular Wednesday evening boxing class met in the gymnasium of the church. One of my pupils is on the way to becoming a master. Oh, Tom. And you know you're supposed to lend dignity to the party. And dignity it shall be. I'll present her to the left side of my face. There's Uncle Cornelius. Good evening, Mr. van Tiles. Tom, I've been looking for you. How are you, my boy? Splendid, thank you. Well, have you met her yet? A cabalini, no. Well, you must, of course. I'll see if I can pry her loose from her admirers. I'll be back in a moment. Well, shall we get some supper? Cabalini first. Supper afterwards. Business before pleasure. You're not very keen on this, are you? What? Being presented to the great cabalini. Well, it's a little out of my line, if that's what you meant. Well, I'm glad you're here, even if you aren't. You can help put the gossip brigade in their places. They've started already. On cabalini? Yes, they've been whispering all sorts of things about her. Tom, I want you to be very nice to her. You will, won't you? Of course I will. Well, come along then and have some supper. It'll be hours before Uncle Cornelius gets her away. Why can't I dance, Madam Cabalini? I remember distinctly. What Madam Cabalini promised it to me? Becari's up! Becari's up, senorita! I have danced so very much tonight. Gentlemen, if you please, Madam Cabalini is tired. If she's to sing again tonight, I think she ought to rest. Sisi, I really think so. Thank you so much, senorita. Take me away, Cornelius, quickly, please. Come along. Excuse us, please. This way, Madam Cabalini. Sit down, Rita. Here. Oh, I thought you would never rescue me, Cornelius. All those young men, oh, dear, oh, they are so, so enthusiastic. Oh, well, you'll be safe up here. But no more people tonight. Please. Just one or two. There's a young fellow here. Rector of St. Giles. Oh, Cornelius. Do you mind? I am very angry with you. Why? You invite me to your house, Bene. I am happy to come. But I find I'm invited as an artista and not as a friend. Rita, don't be absurd. It was not like this in France, in Mil Fleur. I was not just a singer from the opera then. You have not forgotten? Do you think I ever could? Do you remember the night I sing to you when you walk up and down below the window and how we watched the sea? Il bellissimo mare. Side by side in the moonlight. I remember. And other evenings, too. It makes me sad a little. But why? Because I also remember that I'm growing old, Rita. Oh, you will forget that in Mil Fleur when we go there again. If we ever do. What do you mean? Time doesn't stand still, Rita. You're young. You've everything before you. And I... Well... Well... Rita, why don't you marry? Me? Oh, dear me. I'm serious. Haven't you ever loved anyone? You ask me that? No, you know what I mean. Hasn't there ever been anyone who... I am happy now. It is enough. I'm thinking of the years to come. It isn't good to be alone then. I know. What will you do? I will turn my face to the world and I will say, I am Rita Cavallini. I have lived as I wanted to live and I have been happy. I am happy now. Son of a leecher. Then, if I must cry a little, I will turn away so no one will see me. Just as you do now. Oh, go away, Cornelius. You are much too clever for me and you make me sad. I will not be sad. All right, dear. You'd better rest anyway. You were... Sure, Mr. Ventile isn't in the drawing room, Joseph? Quite sure, Mr. Armstrong. I'd like to see him before I leave, but... Well, I'll wait. If you'd like a quiet place, sir, you might try the library upstairs. Thank you, Joseph. Good evening. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was here. The butler told me that I could... No, no, go, please. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just looking for a quiet place. I am not disturbed. I shall only be here for a moment anyway. Please, you sit down. Thank you. You don't like parties, huh? Well, I... I wish you hadn't asked me quite so directly. I know. I don't like them either. I don't believe we've met. My name is Armstrong. Tom Armstrong. I'm rector of St. Giles's church. Rector? What does it mean? The minister, clergyman. Oh. Oh, I see. Peccato. Ah, very sad. I beg your pardon? You are too young. No, not really. I mean, ministers aren't always old. Anymore than opera singers are always robust. You think they are not? Well, I don't know. What they tell me of this madame Cavallini... Oh, then you have never seen her? No, I... No, I don't care very much for the opera. Ah, echo. Well, you have not missed much when you miss like Cavallini. Really? Do you know her? Ah, you see, see. We are very intimate. She is beautiful, as they say. Do they say that? Of course. Well, she is not. She is really very ugly. But people do not know she is ugly because they cannot see beneath her makeup. Oh, I'm sure you must make a mistake. I'm talking of Peter Cavallini. Yes, I am too, but you have never seen her. No. I merely bow to public opinion. That is very dangerous. If you believe the rumors of her beauty, you must also believe the stories of her past. That is public opinion too. I, um, I haven't heard any stories. Shall I tell you some? I'd rather you didn't. As you wish. Thank you. What are you thinking? I was thinking that you aren't being very charitable. Of all the people who are willing to carry tales, a friend should be the last. Of all the people who know her, I am the one who knows her best. She will not mind what I say about her. I should like to have her word for that. You are defending her. That is most unusual. There are very few people to defend Rita Cavallini. Then please count me as one of them. You see, I preach goodwill and brotherly love to my pulpit every Sunday. It's only right that I should practice it myself on Monday. And you would like me to practice it too? That's the general idea. Then you have my word, Mr. Armstrong. Never again will I speak badly of Rita Cavallini. You made a very sudden reformation. Very sudden, poor Rita. Very dear. You hear, Tom. Yes, I... Is it time, Cornelius? The guests are waiting. I told them you were going to sing your aria from La Singra. But I sing La Singra tomorrow. Well, shall we call this a rehearsal then? Sisi, you will excuse me, Mr. Armstrong. Gratia, gratia. Tom, shall we go down? I'd like you to hear this. I'm sure you'll enjoy her singing. Tom, Tom, what's the matter? Is there anything wrong? Mr. Van Tile, I... I feel very, very silly. You are the visitor? Coming back here. Oh, no, no. Chapter, no. I felt I owed you an apology. For last night, I mean, I... I must have sounded rather pompous. Oh, we will forget that. It was my fault. I should have told you who I was. I should have known without you telling me. But you had never seen me. I've corrected that. I heard you sing tonight. You were wonderful. Gratia, gratia. Billy, gratia. Well... You are not going so soon. I live downtown, you know. It takes quite a while to... My hotel is there. I will drive you in my carriage. Well, that's very kind of you. Will you wait? I shall only be a moment. It's very more than just being a minister. You see, our parish is rather large, and we have more than our share of slums. Slums? Ah, those are the poor? Yes. And... And they are in your care too? Well, we try to help them as much as we can. It's all part of the job. I see. Uh, would he help some time if we were to give a concert? To raise money? See, I would be glad to sing if you would like it. Would you? Really? You are good. It is not goodness. I was poor once too. I know what it is like. So, we will work together then. It will be nice. I can't tell you what it will mean. Is that it, Madam? Yes. Good night, Mr. Armstrong. Good night, Madam Cavalini. And thank you. You... You kiss my hand? Mine? Because you are kind. And because you are lovely. Good night. Good night. Drive on, please. Quickly. Good night and our brief intermission. I want to introduce a man who has been creating quite a little stir around here. Just between us, I mean among the ladies. He's dark, handsome and mysterious. Who are you anyway, stranger? I'm the charm man. So, I've noticed. But do you think you want to boast about it? I don't mean what you think. I mean I tell the ladies how to rate their charm. Rate it? I don't know how much they have in actual percentages. No wonder you interest the fair sex. Can you tell the ladies in our audience how to do that? Yes, I can. They can rate themselves or have someone else do it. They'll need pencils. Pencils? All right. Are you ready, ladies? Go ahead, Mr. Charm Man. A perfect charm score would add up to 100%. Ready? I'll give you the top percentage allowed for any one charm and then you give yourself as much of that as you think you deserve. Ready now? A beautiful figure rates 40%. Mark down what you deserve. Got it? All right. Smooth, well-kept hair rates 15%. Got your percent? Exceptionally nice eyes rate 15%. Good teeth rate 15%. Smooth, white hands 15%. Hold on a minute, Mr. Charm Man. That adds up to 100% and you haven't even mentioned a lovely complexion. You've got to remember this is a luxe toilet soap broadcast and we think a lovely complexion is the most important charm of all. Well, don't get excited, Mr. Ruick. I agree with you perfectly. There's a very good reason why I don't put clear, smooth skin on my chart. Yes? What is it? You see, Mr. Ruick, the point is that unless a girl has clear, smooth skin there's just nothing I can do for her. I have to call this whole charm rating thing off. Thank you, Mr. Charm Man, but I'm sure that isn't going to frighten the lovely ladies in this audience. They know how to keep skin soft, smooth, attractive, how to guard against the choked pores that cause cosmetic skin, dullness, tiny blemishes and large pores. They remove dust and dirt, stale russian powder thoroughly with luxe toilet soaps active lather before they put on fresh makeup and always at bedtime. You see, they know luxe toilet soap is the mild pure white soap that nine out of ten screen stars use to guard their million dollar complexions and the ladies in this audience are pretty and wise. We return now to Mr. DeMille and our play. We continue with romance, starring Madeline Carroll and Herbert Marshall with Ralph Morgan. The fire in the Bishop's library burns to a red glow. The old man has paused in his story, looking thoughtfully into the flames. Now he turns to his grandson and in a low voice picks up the thread of his old romance. And so we planned the concert together. Rita, Carvelini and I almost 50 years ago. We saw a good deal of each other for a few weeks. We became very good friends. It was more than friendship, but I didn't know it then. One evening, a few days before Christmas, Susan came here to the rectory to speak to me about some church affairs. She was sitting near the fireplace. Mrs. Vander is taking care of those. I think that's all, except for the midnight service on Christmas Eve. Have you decided about that, Tom? Tom? Oh, I'm sorry. What did you say, Susan? About the midnight service on Christmas Eve. Oh, yes, I, uh... Yes, I thought I'd arrange for the choir to sing carols and a procession to the church. We could start over on West Broadway. Is there anything I can do for you on that? Well, thanks. I'll take care of it myself. Well, I... I suppose that's all. Yes, for now, in a way. Please let me help you with your coat. We... we don't see very much of you these days, Tom. I know. I've been pretty busy. Madam Carvelini's concert took a lot of time. That was over last week. Well, there were other things too, Susan. Yes. Did you enjoy meeting you on the other night? I... I thought I saw you there. I enjoyed it very much. She... she was very lovely, wasn't she? I liked her even better in La Boehm. And I thought her violetta was superb. I've been quite often, you see. I didn't mean it that way, Tom. It was in your mind, though? There's nothing in my mind except... well, what people have been saying. The gossip brigade. Have they been talking about me? Oh, you know how they are. They've got to have something. I've been doing my best to keep them quiet. I don't need a champion, Susan. I don't need anyone to defend me. Tom, I'm not going to quarrel with you. We've been friends too long to let a thing like this come between us. I just thought you should know. That's all I have to say, Tom. I'm sorry. I've been on edge lately. Please forgive me. Of course. And you'll come to see us again, won't you? When you find time? Yes, yes. Good night, Susan. Madame, what do you want the boys say? I am ready, Cara. My scarf, please. Oh, the scarf. The scarf. Where is it? Open the door, Vanucci. Madame. Open the door. Hey, Navanti. Well, you seem a little disappointed. Were you expecting someone else, Rita? Fair enough. Sit down. I... I'd like to speak to you alone for a moment. May I? Vanucci, will you wait outside, please? Yes, Madame. Could you not come to my hotel, Cornelius? I could have, yes. But I may be wrong. I had an idea I might not be able to see you there. Maybe you are not so wrong. Then you know why I've come, Rita. I think so. Rita, I have always had a very fond hope that someday Susan and Tom Armstrong would be married. Yes. A month ago I took it for granted. Right now I'm not so sure. Has Tom asked you to marry him yet? No. And if he should? I would refuse him. I'm glad of that, Rita, for both of you. But why do you lead him on then? Is it just that you're amusing yourself at his expense? See, it is very amusing, Cornelius, to feel your heart torn in two, to lie tossing each night in the darkness, waiting for sleep which never comes. To want with all your art what your art forbids your having. To know that tomorrow will be empty as today and every day long, long into the year. It is very amusing, Cornelius. You love him that much. I, who have been so wise. It is very funny, isn't it? What will you do, Rita? I have my passage. I sail for England Thursday. Does he know? I have not told him yet. I have promised to see him again the day before Christmas. Open your door, most over, Madam Cavalini. You will excuse me. Wait. If you sail Thursday, that's Christmas Day. You can't sail on Christmas, Rita. They are the same, Cornelius. All days are the same. You may stop here. Yes, Madam. Beautiful day, isn't it? You want me to wait? What is that singing? It comes from the church. St. Giles Square, I guess. Oh. Yes, wait. Please. Come in stronger on this section, please. A little more. Mr. Armstrong. Yes? As a lady just came in the back of the church. Someone to see. Oh. Will you take the rest of the rehearsal? Yes, sir. Rita, I didn't expect you so soon. You must not let me disturb you. Oh. No, it's quite all right. Shall we go into the rectory? If you want. We can cut across the garden. This way, Rita. We're rehearsing for the procession tonight. Do you think you'll be able to watch it? Perhaps. I am usually tired after the theater. Oh, well. You'll probably be able to hear it from your hotel. There we are, Rita. Thank you. Yes, Kate? Oh, Mr. Armstrong, Mr. Vantile is here. And the ladies from the Mother's Aid Committee have been waiting since four o'clock. Oh. Do you, uh, do you suppose they'd mind waiting another half hour, Kate? I don't think so. They seem to be using their time very well. They're getting a donation from Mr. Vantile. Good. I'll be in the library, Kate. Yes, sir. Go in, Rita. Yeah? Sit over here by the fire. You must be cold. I'm not really. You'll have some tea? Thank you. I cannot stay very long, Tom. Oh, but you've got to. I think perhaps I feel a little out of place here. Oh, nonsense. You've got to come often. My sister's coming down from Boston next week. I want you to meet her. You'll. Tom. What? I will not be able to meet your sister. I will not be here next week. Why? Tonight is the last performance. I am sailing tomorrow. Rita, you can't. I must, Tom. When did you decide this? It must have been very sudden. No, no. And you didn't tell me. I didn't want anything to spoil these last few weeks. I don't want anything to spoil them now. Rita, you mustn't go. Stay just a little while. Stay until spring. Non-torso. I'm a singer in Rome next month. In Aprilia I go to Las Cala in Milano. Rita, listen to me. You're not going to leave. You've never given me a chance to tell you how I really feel about you. I'm going to tell you now. I love you, Rita. I want you to stay here. I want you to marry me. Will you, Rita? Why do you look at me like that? Didn't you know it, Rita? Didn't you know that someday I'd tell you? I was afraid you would. You are very foolish to love me, Tom. I don't believe that. I must make you believe it. You can't. Because I think you will love me too, Rita. No. Then what have all these weeks meant to you? Of them and nothing? A little light in all the darkness. No more. A little warmth in the cold. A little flame that burns not long. And then goes out. No, Rita, you don't mean that. You can't, Rita. No, please. Rita. Let me go. Tell me I'm right. Tell me you love me. I love you, Tom. Rita. I love you. Caro, I love you. There is nothing in this world but you and me. Nothing. This is our moment. Our little moment. That will never come again. Hold me close, Tom. Close to you. And then let me go away. I'll never let you go. Do you understand, never? You're going to marry me, Rita. No, no. What's the matter? What's wrong, darling? I cannot marry you, non-poso. Don't ask me again, Tom. Please, Carricimo. Please don't ask me. Why? Why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't you marry me? Oh, Tom. Tom, you poor, blind fool. Don't you know what I am? Don't you know what I've been? Cannot you see it in men's eyes? The men who crowd around me with their annoying little smirks. Ask your friends why you cannot marry me when your church goes. Ask your friend Cornelius Vantile. He'll tell you. I don't believe you. You're lying. There's something else. Ask him. Very well, I will. Come in. Will you, Kate, ask Mr. Vantile to come here, please? But the committee... Ask him to come here. Yes, sir. Sit down, Rita. I think I had better leave. Please. You said he'd tell me, but I'm willing to ask him. And you should be willing to stay. I know it's not true. And if he says it isn't, you're going to marry me, Rita. Oh, Tom. Tom, dear. Why do you talk to yourself? Let me go now. Forget everything we've said. Do you think I could? Come in. Oh, Tom, I... Hello, Rita. Cornelius. Kate said you wanted to see me, Tom. Yes. Mr. Vantile, I... I've just asked Rita to marry me. Have you, Tom? She insists that there's a reason why she can't. Do you know? Do you know what that reason is? I? Well, of course not. Why should I know? Would you approve of our marriage? You're a friend. She said I was to ask my friends. Would you approve? Yes, Tom. Thank you. But if Rita has reasons of her own... We were to take your word. I see. Well... My congratulations to you both. Rita, I knew you'd lie to me. Why did you lie? It was the truth, Tom. You said you loved me. I do. And that's why I told you the truth. That's why I'll tell it to you now. You believe Cornelius when he says he know no reason. Don't you see he's only being kind to me? Don't you see that he's the one who's lying? Ask him about Milfler. He was there. I was there. Ask him. I spoke to you about the look in men's eyes. Ask him about that. He was one of those men. Rita. Is... Is this true? I... Is it true? I wish I could make you understand, Tom. I'd have given anything in the world to a spare Judas. I don't want your pity. Let me alone. Get out. Both of you. Oh, Tom. If only you had listened to me first. Why did you make me tell you? We would have said goodbye. Everything would have been so... So sweet. Now there is nothing but pain and bitterness. Goodbye, Tom. And thank you for having loved me. This is the Columbia broadcasting system. Madeleine Carroll and Herbert Marshall return shortly for the third act of romance. Next to a good friend, give me an honest enemy. Or if I'm to have both, give me Walter Wanger. Today, like Samuel Golden and David O. Selding, Mr. Wanger is an independent producer, a picture term for a man with sufficient fortitude and capital to compete with the major studios. A man who makes his own films under his own roof and has his own stars under contract. Distinguished for three things. His pipes, his polo and his pictures. Mr. Wanger brings to the screen a youthful vigor and originality that's won him the admiration of his contemporaries and the gratitude of the public. For 15 years, he's been alternately my business ally and competitor. But however the tides of business may have swung us, we've managed to remain the best of friends. And you can now prove the quality of your friendship, Walter, by giving me the $120 you owe me. I'm terribly sorry, CB, but I didn't quite hear you. Now, perhaps your ears will prove a little sharper if I ask you to remember a certain night in New York some years ago when you and 10 other gentlemen tended me a dinner party. Oh, that's better. Of course I remember. And if I may say so, it was all my idea. You had it attained us so lavishly at your ranch that we just thought it'd be nice to reciprocate. And after dinner, you all went to a prize fight, but I had a cold and had to go to bed. Oh, yes. How is your cold? Much better, thank you. And all of you left in such a hurry that I found myself in the unique position of having to pay for a dinner party given in my honor. The bill was $120, and if you don't mind, I would... Nobody can hear a word you're saying, CB. I must say, as a producer, your diction doesn't set a very good example. And you can prove how good a producer you are by producing $120. Oh, well, never mind. I suppose you are my guest. What would you like to talk about? Well, as a rural producer, I always talk about how good they've been. Let's you and me be different and talk about how bad we've been at times. Walter, you're always a leader in new ideas, but I think that idea is terrible. Oh, you do. Speaking of poor ideas, did you happen to see a picture quite a few years ago called Four Frightened People? Now, who made it? You did. Oh, did I? Oh, it's so I did. It was very funny. After making it, I thought of changing the title to Five Frightened People. I was the fifth. But what about that super colossal idea you made, the president vanishes? That was also an artistic success. After seeing it, I packed my bags and left a note telling them to change it to wange your vanishes. But seriously, CB, I only hope that by the time I've spent 25 years trying to pull them out of the hat, that my record of hits will be half as brilliant as yours. Thank you, Walter. And I meant what I said about you being the top new idea man. The industry will never get enough of your courage and foresight. Thanks. And speaking of ideas, apparently you had a great one in the buccaneer. Oh, have you seen it? Of course not. Oh. Do you think I'll stand in line for three hours? You can't get near the box office. Well, the feat was a great pirate. You might get some ideas. Tell me, what pictures are you working on now? Well, by this time next year, I hope to have completed eight. Among them, a story on modern Spain called The River is Blue, starring Madeline Carroll and Henry Fonda. Then there will be a screen version of Vincent Sheehan's autobiography, Personal History. Another one with Charles Boyer and the Arabian Knights. They sound fascinating, Walter, but a couple of those pictures may not be so well received abroad. Does censorship scare you? Do you think pictures would be better if regulations were stricter or more lenient? I've no particular complaint along those lines at all, CB, except that I must say, I feel we deserve the same freedom as the press. But certainly, crudeness and vulgarity have no place in motion pictures. I agree with you 200%. Besides, with so much luck soap around my studio, how could our product be anything but clean? That's right, Walter. Give credit where credit is due. Well, I just wanted you to know that luck soap is part of our official equipment. But getting back to pictures, what are we going to do, CB, when it seems that the greatest stars of the moment are the Seven Dwarfs and a woodpecker's pantry called Charlie McCarthy? Well, we'll do what we've always done, Walter. Find new stars like those you're now cultivating. Louise Platt, Tim Holt, Marla Shelton. But doesn't it take more than a producer to make a star? It's the public who really makes them. And you who are listening now can help Mr. DeMille and me and every other producer if you'll do simply this. When you see a newcomer on the screen or someone who isn't so new, but whom you think should be given more of an opportunity, just let your theater manager know your opinion or send it to us direct. You don't want to see mediocre pictures and we don't want to make them. You'll minimize them by letting us know what type of pictures you want to see and the people you want to see in them. Thank you. Good luck to your eight pictures, Walter. And I'll forget the $120. Our play, starring Herbert Marshall and Madeleine Carroll with Ralph Morgan, continues. On Christmas Eve of the present day, the old bishop relives the scenes of his youth. His grandson leans forward with eyes intent on the old man's face. And here on that night, 50 years ago, the whole world suddenly seemed to fall away from me. They left Rita and Vantile and I sat here alone, alone with my thoughts and the broken pieces of my life. And then suddenly I was on the street, walking blindly through the snow. I must have walked for hours, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. The dim echo of Rita's voice ringing in my brain. I remember people on the street, stopping me, staring at me. I remember thinking how life's strong. Good evening, Mr. Armstrong. Good evening, Mr. Armstrong. Good evening, Mr. Armstrong. Oh, but I'm a copeless weather. You'll get your dad to go on this. You poor, blind fool. Don't you know what I am? Don't you know what I've been? Blind fool. Blind fool. Good evening, Mr. Armstrong. Mr. Armstrong. They've been looking for you at the rectory. You're almost ready to start. I love you. Mr. Armstrong. I love you. Carissimo. I love you. Mr. Armstrong, where are you going? The procession starts over this way. Mr. Armstrong. I'll tell you about me. Mr. Armstrong. Here. Sit down, dear. You must be tired out. It is good to be home again. I left a message at the desk that you were not to be disturbed. You were magnificent tonight, Rita. Did you hear them cheer? Twenty minutes. My ears are ringing yet. It was a great triumph, Rita. The greatest of your whole career. Did you know that? A great triumph. Tomorrow they will have someone else to worship. A month from now, they will not even remember my name. Si, si. And grand triumph. Rita, you didn't always feel this way. Things were different then. Something happened to me this afternoon, Cornelius. Something went dead inside of me. I'll never really live again. You will, Rita. Don't think I'm being hard, but time has its own way of healing wounds. I know. Time heals everything. But will it take that look from his eyes when I told him, Cornelius? Can time give him his youth again? His smile, his light heart? Even that, Rita, believe me. And for you, there's work. And perhaps in Milfler, perhaps we can find that magic again, Rita. You and I. No, Cornelius. Why not? Why can't we try? Don't you know? That part of my life, it's over. It's finished, Cornelius. Oh, I know you're trying to be kind, but is it kindness? In his last few weeks, I learned something all new and beautiful. The goodness of the world. It come like some great light that burn and blind and strike me to the ground. For the first time, I see myself as I am. And it hurts me so. I cannot go back now, Cornelius. What if you would only forget? I do not want to forget. I want to remember. Every day, every hour, every minute, though, I want to remember. Because he'll remember too. And perhaps, someday, he'll know how much I really loved him. Almost in midnight. You are going to sit up more. But, if we are to sail tomorrow... I am not tired, Cara. I'm so nustunca. Have you finished with the packing? Almost. I can go to bed. I will not need you any... Why did you come here? What is it? Why do you stare at me? Your hair is wet. Have you been walking in this snow? Yes. Yes, I've been walking. I was thinking about you and praying for you. Praying for you in the twilight. In the evening. In the black night. Praying for me? In my prayers, I felt a hand here in my arm. Someone stopping me to speak. And I looked down. And it was you. I heard you crying as I ran away. Ran, I don't know where. Till I saw lights and people. And then a beggar woman standing at the curb held up her hand. I gave her something. She thanked me. With your voice. I saw you walking by me in the streets and looking at me out of windows. I couldn't move. You were so thick and close around me. Then it began to snow and I thanked God hoping it would blot you from my sight. But each snowflake was a tiny face. Your face. Thousands and thousands of you swearing in your devil's dance by the glare of the street lamps. And not one spoke. You looked at me imploring. Speechless. Then suddenly I knew you were begging me to bring your soul to God before it was too late. Tom, Tom, you frightened me. Everything is over between us. Seared away. But I am still a minister of God. And you are a woman who needs my help. Our love is gone. But I offer you another. The love I bring you tonight is God's alone. Don't please, you don't know what you're seeing. Hold out your arms to him. Open your heart to him. For though your sins be a scarlet they shall be white as snow. For you come out of great tribulation and have washed your robes in the blood of the lamb. Tom. Open your heart to him. And no longer shall you hunger. No longer shall you thirst. For he will lead you to the living waters and the tree of life. And you shall be a bride. A bride. Oh, Tom. Oh, my darling. Have I hurt you so much? So much that you cannot even pray for me? No, let me hurt you, Tom. Please, no, let me hurt you. We were not meant to love each other. I know that now. We are brought together, you and I. Only that you might help me. And you have. You come tonight to bring my soul to God. But your work was over. Long, long ago. That night in the carriage. Do you remember, Tom? You kissed my hand. It was then your work was done. Now go away, dear. Go away. And forget. No. I've lied to you. I've lied to myself. I thought I came here tonight to save my soul. I didn't. I came because I love you. No. I don't care what you are or what you've been. Do you understand that I don't care? I want you. I want you to marry you. You don't know what you're saying. I do. We could be married tomorrow. Go away, yes. Go away and hide. That's what we'd be doing. Oh, Tom, listen. Listen to me, please. For the first time in my life, I know what it is to be strong. Let me keep that strength. Let me be a little proud and hold my head up high. Don't make me shamed again. You have your church, your work. You're more to be than that. You're more to be than life. Tom, am I more to you than God himself? You prayed for me before. Now let me pray for you. Sweetheart. Please go. Now, before it is too late. Listen. You hear? That's your world. That's where you belong. Go back to it, Tom. Go back to God. Rita. Ave Maria. Grazia Plena. Domino tego. Benedicto a tu in molieribus. Rita. And Benedicto's fructus venges tu. Chez. Unta Maria matadei. Ora pro nobis. Pegatoribus. No. Edinora morti. This is how I remember her. Standing there with her eyes closed. Her head thrown back. Praying for me. I never saw her again. Some years after, I met it Susan, your grandmother. She made me very happy, Gerald, all my life. And Madam Cavalini, where is she now? She went back to Europe that Christmas day in 1888. She sang for a few years more in Berlin, in Paris, in Italy, and then she died. She was a great woman, Gerald. I think you were pretty fine too. Nonsense. But I hope you understand now that I haven't quite forgotten what it feels like to be young. Grandfather, I've been a fool, but your stories helped a lot. Now what I'm going to do, do you? I'm going to marry Lucille just as soon as I can get hold of a license. What? Well, that wasn't why I told you the story. I know. But I hope you don't mind. No, Gerald, I don't mind. Thanks. Good night, grandfather, and Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas, my boy. And our evening's romance is over. Not since a year ago last December, when we presented Cavalcade, have we had the pleasure of hearing from Madeline Carroll and Herbert Marshall together and as themselves. To their native England, Hollywood owes a great debt, for giving us not only two superb performers, but two very charming people, Miss Carroll and Mr. Marshall. Thank you, Mr. DeMille. You know, Hollywood is the most amazing place in the world. Are you speaking for the Chamber of Commerce, Madeline, or for yourself? For myself. Last fall I left Hollywood to visit my place in Spain. I travelled 6,000 miles, only to find that the better path of valor was to keep out of Spain. Then I came back to Hollywood, and before I had a chance to catch my breath, I found myself in Spain. Just a moment, Madeline. Would you mind starting again at the beginning? I'm afraid that... Well, it's just as startling as it sounded, boss. This picture I'm making, the river is blue, is as Spanish as a bullfight or a hot tamale. If you'd like to see what Spain really looks like, just come along to the location, said Mr. Wenger has built down the coast, some 30 miles from here. I can't show you my house, but I can show you a Spanish seaport to the life. Speaking of Mr. Wenger, Madeline, do you suppose he was being well just polite when he complimented Luxo? I'll have you know that Walter Wenger is never just polite. Don't expect a compliment from him, unless you've really earned it. I know, I work for him. Believe me, Mr. DeMille, it's only one getting conceited working for Walter Wenger. Now, if you still want his statement verified, well, I'm the one to do it. Luxo is always in my dressing room at Wenger Studios, and that's most accommodating, but then I don't have to bring it from home. From that, Mr. DeMille, you may gather that I'm one of the most faithful users of your product. Thank you, Madeline. I do. And by the way, I understand an important birthday will be observed this week. Of course, Mr. DeMille, Washington's birthday. Tomorrow. It's an important birthday. Washington's and yours. I'm a bit early, but many happy returns from all of us. Thank you, sir. But if that surprised look on your face is the result of my remembering Washington's birthday, then be informed, please, that you're talking to an ex-schoolteacher. Madeline, but the teacher is beautiful as you with the blackboard. I'll bet you got a carload of red apples a year. Well, I wouldn't know. My career as a school mom lasted only three months. But that was long enough to find out, Mr. DeMille, that your old hometown of Washington, North Carolina, was the first town in the United States to be named after Washington, way back in 1775. I hardly blame them for changing the original name, Madeline. The town was first called Forks and the Tower River. As for you, Mr. Marshall, while I know you never taught school, I'm sure your impressions of a man like Washington would be interesting to all of us. Well, CB, you see, when I first came to this country, I felt rather sorry for myself. It was also new to me, so strange and different. But as I became acquainted with America with its vigorous, romantic background, I was able to see it as I think so few Americans are privileged to see it. To so many Americans, it's an old-taken-for-granted story. Valley Forge is an old story, something to be learned in grade school and then filed away in the distant cabinets of youthful learning. May I suggest in all humility that someday all of you dusted off and read it again, the story of a son of man torn with pity for a starving, ragged rabble of freezing skeletons once dignified by the name of army. A man heckled and tormented and abused by those who had given him a command he had not sought. A man facing enormous odds, robbed by defeat of everything but a dream, a vision of a new land. Washington turned that dream into a truth, and in so doing, lifted his name to immortality. And now, C.B., my thanks and good night. Good night, Mr. DeMille. Good night, Madeleine. Good night, Bart. That was finally said. Lewis Silvers appeared at the courtesy of 20th Century Fox Studios, where he was in charge of music for the new picture, The Baroness and the Butler. Mr. Marshall's latest RKO film is Breakfast for Two. And now, here's our producer. Like tonight's story, when a play we bring you next Monday evening comes to the radio, backed by an enviable record of success on stage and screen. It's titled, Forsaking All Others, the romance of a modern girl jilted on her wedding day. The girl would be played by one of the most talented dramatic actresses in Hollywood, Miss Betty Davis. And co-starred with her will be Joel McCrae. And resuming the part he played in the Broadway production, Anderson Lawler. Our sponsors, the makers of Lux Toilet Soap, and the Lux Radio Theater presents Betty Davis and Joel McCrae in Forsaking All Others. This is Cecil B. DeMille, saying good night to you from Hollywood. Tonight is from the collection, Walses of Vienna. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.