 Family Theatre presents William Mundigan, Ray Collins, and Frank Lovejoy. The mutual network in cooperation with Family Theatre, Incorporated, brings you Victor Hugo's great classic, The Bishop's Candle Sticks, with Ray Collins as the Bishop, and Frank Lovejoy as Jean Valjean. To introduce the drama, your host and narrator, William Mundigan. Good Gene, tonight your Family Theatre brings to you Victor Hugo's classic, The Bishop's Candle Sticks. A male of one of fiction's most famous criminals, Jean Valjean, and his strange encounter with a man of God. For stealing a loaf of bread to feed his sister's starving family, Jean Valjean was sentenced by a French court of the middle 19th century to the dreaded galleys. For attempting to escape, his imprisonment was lengthened to 19 years. 19 years chained to a hard plank in the dark hold of a galley ship. Suddenly, Jean Valjean was free. Free to blink his weakened eyes and the bright glare of the sun. Free to roam the streets and villages, a stranger to his native land, trying to build a new life on the yellow passport of an ex-convict. A yellow passport that branded him guilty without his raising a hand, that shut endless doors in his face and drove him weary unto death from one hostile town to another. And so Valjean came late one afternoon to the village of Denise. It was a small place, like small towns all over the world, nothing unusual could happen without all of its citizenry learning of it very quickly. George the baker it was who saw the unkempt stranger first. There he was sniffing around the back of my shop. It's his vicious looking fellow with the stick as big as my arm. Victor the blacksmith helped the news on its way. He tried to break into George's shop he didn't. He's a dangerous man. He carried a club and a knife. And saw the news spread throughout the town. Haven't you heard Gabrielle, a vicious vagabond on the loose? A killer prowling the town. George the baker barely escaped his life. It's not safe to walk on the streets. A madfiend, I tell you! There's a mad killer in town looking for a throat to cut. Oh, thank heaven I've home in one piece. Amen. And here there's no luck on your door. Now what are we going to do? Come, come, Madame Maguire. Calm yourself. Calm myself, he says. Well, if you don't care about your own life, have you no regard for mine and that of your guest, Professor Pelt? What is the trouble, Madame? It is nothing, Professor. Madame Maguire is a trifle upset. It's dark outside and it seems there's a stranger in town. A stranger? A thief? An assassin? And not even a lock on the door to keep him out. Professor, perhaps you can influence the bishop. I don't matter. I'm only his housekeeper, but you. You were his best friend. How will you feel sleeping the night here and nothing to bar the way of some mad killer? Oh, for years I've been begging him to put a lock on this door. And for years, without one, we have managed to awake in the morning with our throats uncut. Yes, but perhaps Madame Maguire has a point. Does he hear that, Monsignor? After all, my dear friend, not everyone is as saintly as you. There's no reason to invite trouble. Exactly what I've been telling the bishop. You both forget. This is not my house. It is the house of the Lord. It must remain open to everyone. Oh, you see, Professor, it is hopeless to argue with him. Oh, well, I'd better fix supper. One must eat, no matter what the situation is. Oh, senior, listen to me. I know Madame Maguire is a bit of an alarmist, but if what she tells me is true, I do think you're being well unwise. Yes, and what is it she tells you? That you take no care for your own safety. I know your town of Denise isn't Paris, but things happen even in small towns. Madame says that whenever anyone knocks on your door, even though it'd be midnight, you simply call to them to come in. Never a query as to who it might be, but simply come in. Come in. There, you see it. You're there. You're the owner of this house? I live here? What can I do for you, my son? My name is Valjean. Jean Valjean. 15 miles I've walked today without rest of food. I've been chased by dogs and turned away from every door, but this is as far as I go. You're going to give me food. You hear me? You're going to give me food or I'm going to take it? Put down your stick. There's no need for it. No need for it. You don't know what I am. I'm an ex-convict, a galley slave. My passport is yellow. See, here it is. Jean Valjean served five years for burglary and 14 years for attempting to escape. This man is dangerous. And I'll drive me out like everyone else. No, no, no. Come, take off your knapsack. Sit down. You will have supper with us and sleep in a bed tonight. Monsignor. Please, Professor, I know what I'm doing. Oh, it's a trap. You're going to call the John Domes and send me back to the galley. I have no such intention, Monsieur. Monsieur? You call me Monsieur? You don't say get out tramp like all the others? You didn't understand what I said. I tell you my name is... I know your name. I knew it before you told me. You knew my name? Your name is my brother. What? Oh, your robes. You're a priest. Yes, a priest. And at the moment a very hungry one. Professor, will you set the chairs around the table? Very. If you are sure... Please, my friend. Very well, Monsignor. Madame McGuire! It's in your... It's the assassin. The murderer. Oh, heaven. Calm yourself, Madame and set another place for supper. Another place? You mean for him? No, Monsignor. I shall not. Madame is right. It would not be better to wrap up some food for him and send him on his way. That's a graveel to me. I don't want any charity. I can pay for what you give me. I have money. They paid me for my time in the galleys. A hundred francs. For 19 years, a hundred francs. Take it. Take all of it. Just give me some cheese and a loaf of bread. Keep your money, my son. I am not an innkeeper. I am your host. Come, come. Sit down. And now, Madame McGuire, will you set another place at the table or shall I? I realize I'm only the housekeeper around here. Oh, I'm not being a very good host, am I? Monsieur Valjean, this is Professor Pelz, a very dear friend of mine. And now please, please be seated. Both of you. You enjoyed your supper, Monsieur Valjean? Enjoyed it. Ask a drowning man if he likes the feel of the rope you throw him. Madame McGuire wouldn't like to hear her roast referred to as a rope. By the way, my son, if breakfast pleases you, tell her so. Breakfast? You mean me to eat breakfast here, too? Certainly. You know our good housekeeper pretends very hard to be unkind, but actually it would make her most happy to know that you enjoyed her cooking. Oh, here we are. I'm to sleep in here? Yes. You take that bed across the room. Who sleeps in the other one? I do. So close to me, how do you know I won't murder you? I don't know. But then there are many things that we don't know. Many things we must accept on faith. Go on, my son. I know how tired you must be. And where are you going? To summon the gendarmes and trap me after I fall into sleep? No, no. Only to talk with Professor Pelzowile. We don't have many opportunities for it. He comes through Denise so seldom these days. Good night, Monsieur Valjean. Thought to his own security. Charity is all well and good. I ask you, what shall I do with such a man? There, there you see my dear friend. I have nothing but praise for Madame Agroir, but about me she has only complaints. It is her concern for your safety, Montignier. I know. And I am grateful really. If it weren't for this hard driving woman you see here, I would have starved or caught my death of cold long ago. And in spite of me, tonight you may catch your death of a knife or a club. But Madame Monsieur Valjean was weary and needed sleep. Did you have to put him in your own room? Where else? Professor Pelz has the only other bedroom. Now I know you had a long day and many worries. If you like, by all means you go to bed. I am going. As soon as you tell me what to do with these silver plates. What to put them in the cupboard as you always do. But the cupboard's in your room. Well has it not always been? Oh, I see. Oh, Montignier. You have such a little store of silver. These plates, those candlesticks on the mantel. Such a tiny treasure. Must we present it to that villain? Our treasure, Madame Meglua, doesn't lie in that silver. As much as I enjoy the pieces. You leave it to me, eh? You go to bed. All right, I'll go to bed. But I will not close my eyes for an instant. Not with a house full of thieves and cutthroats. Good night, Professor. Good night, Montignier. I am sorry to expose you to this domestic turmoil, my friend. Madame Meglua is a fine woman. I couldn't manage without her. But there are occasional moments when I find it almost equally difficult to get along with her. Oh, excuse me for a minute, eh? I'll put these plates in the cupboard. Oh, Montignier. Yes? I, uh, I hope you regard me as an old and trusted friend. Can you possibly doubt it? I have no friend, dearer. Surely then I can speak freely. Of course. Then before you take those plates into your corner room, sit down a moment. Sit down and hear me out. The silver plates, Montignier, they're only a minor element. What is far more important is the fact that I believe you are needlessly placing your life in grave jeopardy tonight. I watch that man, Virgin, at supper. Though I'm only a professor, not a practicing doctor, I take some pride in my knowledge of medical matters. And that man is sick. He has all the symptoms of mental depravity. The wild look, the sudden change in moods, the fitful behavior. And while I grant you that society's treatment of him may well be responsible for his condition, that has no bearing on this situation tonight. My friend, believe me, there is no telling what that man may do. But what course would you have me take? Well, I don't know. Turn him back into the streets from which he came. Give him a little money. His stomach is full now. He'll manage all right. Oh, I cannot do that, Professor. Why not? Must you personally assume a responsibility for all society's evils? Must you expose yourself to such danger? Listen to me, my friend. But first promise to forgive the stubbornness of an old man. You have my promise. Good. Now, about Valjean's being ill, perhaps seriously, I agree with you. But much as you take pride in your knowledge of medicine, I only think of myself as a doctor of the spirit. Would you grant me that Valjean's imprisonment has poisoned and withered his soul? Yes. Perhaps more senior to the point of the extinction. No, no. No, he is alive. Therefore, so is his soul. It is only in need of treatment shall I, as a doctor of the spirit, turn him away? Or shall I give him what he needs? A healing serum. A serum of kindness and sympathy and help. Oh, you have already given him some of that serum. You cannot continue it indefinitely. One night's supper and a few pleasant words. Surely you cannot expect that to counteract 19 years in the galleys. To be perfectly honest, I don't think anything will counteract it in Valjean anymore. But I can see that you're determined to carry on with your attempt at healing. Could I at least persuade you to hide the silver plates? No, no, my friend. That is part of the serum. To put temptation before him? To put trust before him. Oh, I admit defeat, but I... I am sure that you will not see those plates again. And I tell you that I have no intention of following the same procedure with my treasure. I have my fees from this lecture to over them. Five thousand francs. Believe me, Monsignor, I'm going to hide that money as cleverly as I can. A loaf of bread, that's all it was. The children were starving, my sisters. My sisters' children, I couldn't let them starve. Can't you understand? Please give me another chance, perhaps a job. The money, I'll pay it back. What do you say? 19 years. No, no. Monsieur Vagin. Monsieur. No, no, don't leave me, I'm awake. I'm rowing, see the blisters on my hands. Monsieur, these are not the galleys. What? Look at me. Oh, the priest, you're the priest, the one that gave me the bed. I'm sorry I had to wake you, but you were having such a bad dream. I was back in the galleys, 19 years. Don't shake so quickly. Well, of course not, my son. The ocean is at least 100 kilometers away. Try to put those thoughts out of your mind. And if you should find that you need something, don't hesitate to wake me. I'll be sleeping right over there. Oh, those plates, those silver plates. You're taking them to bed with you so I can't steal them, huh? No, though I'm placing them in the cupboard, where they always go, Monsieur. Good night. Rest well, my son. The bishop and Valjean both closed their eyes and neither went to sleep. The bishop of Denise was a good man. He wanted to help the tortured ex-convict, but the bishop was also human. As he lay in his bed just a few feet from the man he wanted to aid, the man the law had stamped as dangerous. He fought with anxiety about his own situation. Or am I being naive, foolish? What can I, one person, do to overcome the effects of 19 years of poison? Here I lie at his mercy. At the very least, my silver plates. Much as I chided Madame Maglois, I do treasure them. He stretched out over there. That ugly stick by his side. If he should, oh well. One does what he must and has faith. Perhaps he really means not to trap me. I told him I was Jean. Valjean even showed him the yellow passport and he spoke kindly. I'm going to let a soft voice trap me. Remember Valjean, the judge had a soft voice too. And gray hair like this old one here. Now I haven't far, but those silver plates they're worth a thousand. No more sleeping in the fields. No more doors slammed in my face. Dogs chasing me down the street. No more starving. I still can see if that old priest is asleep. Soft, easy. I handled his right deals. One blow of his stick, just bring it down. Once hard quick now before his eyes open and he cries out, bring the stick down, bring it down. Oh Valjean, are you soft? Yes, he's asleep. Let him sleep. What I want is the silver plates, not his life. It's the plates that's worth. Goodbye, priest. Say goodbye to Monsieur Valjean. And to your silver plates. Madame Maglois, my dear professor. Good morning, Monsignor. Oh, thank you. Heaven, the night's over and you're safe. Amen. And I hope you both slept well. Better than I expected. Good. Not a wink. Bad. Now if our other guest is ready, I'll get breakfast on the table. An excellent idea. Only there's no need to wait for Monsieur Valjean. There's no need to wait for him. He's gone. In our past midnight I think it was out the window. Wait, madame. They are gone too. You and the professor were right. He stole them. I watched him steal them. You watched, but you did not call us. Why? We might have stopped him. I'm afraid he was desperate. He would have killed anyone who tried to stop him. No, no, it was better to let him go. But our plates are beautiful silver. Gone. Gone to that worthless scoundrel. My heart is broken. We have other plates. Wooden plates for a bishop. There's one advantage. Wood doesn't have to be polished. Besides we still have our two silver candlesticks. He didn't take those. Yes, but your silver service. I hope you have at least learned a lesson from this Monsignor. Perhaps now you will not say, come in the moment anyone knocks. Perhaps. Come in. Good morning Monsignor. Yes, the police with that cut throat. Come in with you. We caught him sculking other towners. When we searched him we recognized the silver immediately. Oh, thank the Lord. We have it back. Quiet, madam, please quiet. There has been a terrible mistake. And it's my fault. I owe each of you an apology. You, Monsieur Jean-Dame, and of course you, Monsieur Valjean. An apology? You see, officer, I gave those plates to Valjean. I should have thought to give him a note explaining it to prevent just this kind of thing from happening. You gave him those plates, Monsignor? Yes. Perhaps Monsignor does not know. This man is an ex-convict. He has a yellow passport. Yes, I know all about him. He told me everything. Did you not, Monsieur Valjean? Yes. Yes, he knows. And you forgot the silver candlesticks, my son. Oh, no. No, no. I can't bear any more. Excuse my poor housekeeper, officer. She suffered a great loss this morning. And she's not herself. Now, Monsieur Valjean, do you not remember that I told you to take the candlesticks, too? They're worth another thousand francs. Well, there is no need for me here. My apologies for the adamant, Monsignor, and my sympathies to your housekeeper. Good day. Good day, Monsieur. I, uh... I can go now. I'm free to go. Yes, my son. And here are the candlesticks. You really mean me to have them? I do. I want very much to help you because you're poor and you suffered. Only promise me that you will use the money they bring to become an honest man. Oh, Father, Father... It's all right, my son. It's all right. Now, you put these things into your knapsack and you may go. Well, Father, what... what can I say? How can I...? No, don't try to thank me. Only make the promise I asked for in your heart. Keep it. And then, well, then we shall both be happy men. Goodbye now, Monsieur Valjean. Goodbye, Father. And now, my dear professor, I suppose you think I'm utterly hopeless. But I could not send Valjean back to the galleys. Rather than send him there, I preferred to try one last injection of the serum. And don't misjudge my statement to the gendarme. I... I did not lie. Within my heart, I gave Valjean the silver. I will not pretend to agree with you most in year, but I will confess... I am proud to have you as a friend. Yes, yes. What is it, professor? My 5,000 francs! They are gone. He stole them too. What? Are you certain? Yes. Perhaps you've misplaced them. Oh, no, no, no, no. I hid the money just as I told you. But I hid it between the pages of a newspaper on the desk. And the newspaper is gone. Monsignor, I am sorry. But I must insist we call the gendarme and have him seized and searched. Oh, yes, yes. But first... Madame Medois! Madame Medois! There is no time to waste, Monsignor. All right, all right. We'll be ready in a moment. Madame, did you see an old newspaper in Professor Pelz's room? A newspaper? Yes. But it is gone. That Valjean stole it. Why should he steal an old newspaper when he can so easily get silver? No, professor. I took the newspaper. Oh, you? Of course. I burned it with the rubbish when I cleaned your room. You... You burned it? Oh, my dear friend, I am deeply sorry. What is all this fuss about an old newspaper? Has everyone gone mad this morning? A little, perhaps. Professor, is there not something I can do? I think you've already done it, Monsignor. I think you've taught me a lesson. Worth far more than 5,000 francs. Because, you see, in return for your silver, you at least have the hope of saving a man's soul. But for my treasure, all I have left is a heap of ashes. In our family theater presentation of Victor Hugo's classic, The Bishop's Candlesticks. As you know, family theater is dedicated to the homes of our nation and of the world. Its sole purpose is to remind people that the practice of daily family prayer will help build those virtues which are the foundation of a strong, enduring home. We try not to preach about it. For most people, a reminder should be enough, especially if it's accompanied by a story which shows dramatically that the only way for free men and free families to live is the way of faith and goodness, of love of God and of neighbor. Sometimes we do it through serious drama, sometimes through a comedy, the musical, even the western. We feel that we're successful if you enjoy our family theater stories and are inspired by them. And if you remember and act upon the thought that we bring to you each week, the family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood Family Theater I've brought to Ray Collins in The Bishop's Candle Sticks by Victor Hugo. Frank Lovejoy was heard as Jean Valjean, Howard McNair as Professor Pells, Virginia Greg as Madame Maguire, Pedro de Córdoba as the John Don and your host has been William Lundigan. This adaptation from Les Miserables was written by Andrew Michaels with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman and was directed for Family Theater by Jaime Del Valle. This series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who felt the need for this type of program and by the mutual network which has responded to this need. This is Gene Baker inviting you to join us next week at this time when your Family Theater will present Marino Sullivan, Don DeFore, John Daner and Lorine Tuttle in Rudolph Bonbach's delightful fantasy, The Fountain of Youth. Join us, won't you? The problems of family life in America hear the romantic against the storm carried over most of these stations every weekday. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.