 Family Theatre presents Jane Wyatt, Frank Fay, Joan Evans, and Gordon Oliver. Um, Hollywood, the Mutual Network and Cooperation with Family Theatre presents Pada Deux, starring Jane Wyatt, Joan Evans, and Gordon Oliver. To introduce the drama, here is your host, Frank Fay. Thank you, Tony Lafano. Ladies and gentlemen, Family Theatre's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we are to win peace for ourselves. Peace for our families and peace for the world. Family Theatre urges you to pray, pray together as a family. And now to our drama, Pada Deux, starring Jane Wyatt as Emily, Joan Evans as Susan, and Gordon Oliver as Steve. The great stage is alive with music and movement. A fascinated audience watches the ballet reaches exciting conclusion. There is a breathless pause in which the watches remain lost in wonderment, and then the applause crashes across the footlights like a boiling surf. A game and a game of ballerina boughs, periods and boughs, and then, ignoring the urgency of the orvation, turns and hurries backstage toward her dressing room. Emily, that was superb. You outdid yourself. Oh, it was a marvellous audience. You could feel them with you, Steve, across the footlights, helping you. You having supper with me? Supper? Yes, yes, of course, Steve, if you like. I wanted to talk to you about the music I'm working on. Your music, Emily. All right. I'll be ready in just a little while. There's no rush. I'll talk to Anton. I'll look for you on the stage then. Mother! Susan, what in the world? Oh, Mother. Mother, you were so marvellous tonight. Oh, but, darling, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in school. I sat out there in the audience saying to myself, that's my mother up there. She's the greatest dancer in the world. Susan, you haven't answered my question. Question? Why aren't you at school? Mother, I've decided to quit school. You've decided to quit? Oh, darling, it's not quite as simple as that. But I'm wasting my time there. Well, I'm sure Ms. Fairfield would be upset to hear you say that. What do I care about horsemen, shipper, or embroidery, or planning a well-balanced meal? You should care. Those things are important for a young lady. But I'm not going to be a young lady. I'm going to be a dancer, like you. Susan, we've been all over this before. I know. And it's always ended the same way. You say I'm not old enough to know my own mind and send me back to school. When you finish your education, if you still want to dance... But I know I'll never be happy doing anything else. I'm tired. Now, there's no point arguing this. Tomorrow morning, you go back to Ms. Fairfield. I can't go back. She won't have me. Susan, what have you done? I've been cutting classes for almost a year. You've been expelled? Yes. Oh, mother, I couldn't stand those dreadful classes. So I made arrangements with Leo. Who is Leo? Leo Sokolov. The ballet master? Yes. He has a studio near the school. You were there when you should have been to Ms. Fairfield's? Oh, mother, Leo taught me so much. He's so wonderful. You've been very deceitful, Susan. Here I am, out on the wrong. So read in the knowledge as you're getting a good education and background. All the time... Mother, I'm sorry. But I knew if I'd asked, you'd just say no. And I would have. If I'd wanted this sort of life for you, darling, I'd have kept you with me. I wish you had. No, I promised myself that your life would be different. All I've ever asked is to be like you. Susan, what am I going to do with you? Oh, take me with you. Let me dance. Oh, this is my fault. If I'd been a good mother or if your father had lived... You've been a wonderful mother. The only mistake was keeping me away in that school. We'll have to find another school. Oh, no, please. Leo gave me a letter you to read. I don't care what Leo Sokolov said. You're not going... Yes, who is it? Nearly ready, Emily? Oh, uh... Oh, come in, Steve. Come in. I don't mean to hurt you. I didn't realize you had a guest. It's all right, Steve. Come in. Close the door. This is my daughter Susan, Stephen Barnes. Stephen Barnes, the composer? So you're Susan? Mr. Barnes is working on a score for a new ballet. For you? Is he writing the music for you, mother? For me and 35 other dancers. Steve, Susan has been expelled from Miss Fairfield School. Oh, but don't feel sorry for me, Mr. Barnes. I engineered it. Emily, I think she's liked you in more than beauty. Oh, I just couldn't waste my time knitting when I wanted to be dancing, Mr. Barnes. Tomorrow, we'll choose another school. But tonight, I'm taking you both to supper. Oh, I'm not sure, Steve. She's had a tiresome trip. Oh, Mother, please. Now, don't disappoint me, Emily. All right, but it's against my better judgment. Your coat, Miss Grover. Thank you, Mr. Barnes. Oh, Mother, this is heaven. Pure heaven. And here I am, escorting two angels instead of one. That may be, Steve. But after tonight, one little angel is going to have our wings clipped. How possible harm could it do me just to sit and watch your rehearsal? Susan, if there's to be this argument each day, you go back to school at once. I might as well be in school. You won't let me go near the theater. You've never seen me dance. Darling, no, I'm hoping you'll decide after a week or two of this that I was right. Mr. Barnes is the only one who takes me seriously. Mr. Barnes takes everyone seriously, including himself. That's no way to talk about a man who's writing a beautiful ballet for you. Steve isn't writing his ballets a tribute to me, Susan. He's been commissioned to do it for money. Oh, but it's so obvious that he adores you, the way he looks at you. Don't talk nonsense, Susan. Now, when I get home from rehearsal, I'll take you out to lunch. If I were as quiet as a mouse, then... No, absolutely not. And take off those ballet slippers. One ballerina per family is quite enough. Be ready when I get back. I won't be late. One ballerina per family. She'll never let me dance. Hello, Mr. Barnes. Well, it's the angel with the clipped wings. Your mother in, Susan? No, she just left for rehearsal. I should have remembered. I just finished a waltz for the new score. I wanted to hear it. She promised not to be late. You could wait with me. If you're sure you don't mind. No, I was just sitting here feeling sorry for myself. Come on in. It's amazing, Susan. You're like a picture of your mother taken 20 years ago. When I was little, I used to pray that I'd grow up to look exactly like mother. She must have been a great deal like you when she was younger. Warm, vibrant, impulsive. We're still alike. I suppose that's why we fuss a good deal. I gather since you're feeling sorry for yourself, there's been a recent fuss. She wouldn't let me go to the rehearsal. She won't even let me dance for her. You said you were working with Sokolov. Yes, and he was wonderful. He made dancing seem so important. He said everyone should dance to express what can't be said in words. A philosopher as well as a choreographer. Susan, since your mother won't give you an audience, suppose you dance for me. Here? No. Let's see what you do with this little waltz I just finished. I don't know. There's not much room. And if I've never heard the music before, I... Just express what the music makes you feel. Well, I'll try. You like it? Oh, it's lovely. I tried to say a lot of things about being young, about being in love. I can hear them. Oh, it's wonderful music. That's it. Just improvise. Good. Very good. But that was heavenly. Perfectly heavenly. You were heavenly, Susan. Don't let your mother or anyone else clip those angel wings of yours. Do you think I have a chance? You've got more than a chance. It's a sure thing. Susan, that waltz is yours. Mine? You mean you think I could dance it in your ballet? I mean you've got to dance it just the way you did for me. Simply, innocently, sincerely. Imagine. A waltz of my own. A waltz by Stephen Barnes. Oh, but mother will never hear of it. She won't even let me go near the theater. We'll make her listen to reason. But you wrote the waltz for her, didn't you? That was before I saw you dance it. Oh, but I know you. Susan, it needs your youth, your freshness. It can't be chilled by technique. It demands feeling, something beyond skill. Oh, if only she'll let me. If she'll listen. When we talk together, Susan, she'll have to listen. Please, mother, don't phone the school. Emily, give us a chance to explain. Steve, I don't see that there is any explanation. Susan is not going to dance. She's going back to school. But she's got real talent, Emily. Why hide her away in some finishing school where she'll only be unhappy? I think maybe I know a little more about the things that will eventually make Susan happy than you do, Steve. She wants to dance. She's got the talent. All she needs is the chance. And you're prepared to supply that. Oh, mother, it's the perfect waltz. Perfect. And he wants me to dance it. It would be my waltz. Steve, I thought the ballet was conceived with only one soloist in the ensemble. Well, it was originally. But seeing Susan dance that waltz gave me a whole new slant. It's a dance you could do together. Well, Steve, be reasonable. If she's going to be a dancer, she needs years of work in the ensemble. She can't move right into a solo part. Well, I think she's ready. And this is a natural for her, Emily. It demands youth and warmth and tenderness. Genuine feeling. I see. And you don't think that I could supply them? I didn't say that. When it comes to technique, there isn't a dancer in the world who can approach you. Steve, why are you doing this to Susan and me? What do you mean? I only want Susan to get a chance. You know I thought about her dancing, and yet you deliberately encouraged her. If she weren't your daughter, if she were some unknown who wandered in, I still wouldn't hesitate to give her a chance. Mother, I'll use another name if you want me to. Oh, darling, do you think I'm ashamed of you? Oh, it isn't that. I just didn't want this for you. I wanted something better. But there isn't anything better. I was happier dancing to Steve's music this afternoon than I've ever been in my life. Give her a chance, Emily. That's all I ask. All right. She'll have her chance. Oh, Mother. I'll tell Anton that you've written the waltz for her. For both of you. Think of it. A part of your mother and daughter, the waltz and a minor key for you, Emily, and then light and warm for Susan. The details later, if you don't mind, Steve. I'm tired. Oh, of course. We'll work it out with Anton. Oh, Steve, how can I ever thank you? Just keep dancing like an angel. See you later. Mother, you're not angry. No, I'm not angry, dear. I'm just feeling a little tired and empty. As though I'd lost something very precious. Mother, Steve left his music on the piano. He was so excited. Light, warm, tender. That doesn't sound like the same melody at all. That's your gay little waltz and a minor key, Susan. The way Steve sees me, the way Steve feels about me. It wasn't very good today, was it, Anton? It takes shape, Emily. These moods take time. The feeling, it must grow. No, it's the music. There's nothing to it. It's strange what transposing this melody to a minor key does. Not the dance that your Susan does. In the dance Susan does. She's like shimmering light, and the music suits her perfectly. An intriguing idea, Stephen had. A pundit there with the mother and daughter. Variations on the same melody. Very interesting. Steve has too many interesting ideas, Anton. He wears the heart on his sleeve for Susan. She's so impressionable. This is why I wanted her to finish school. She's not ready for this life we live. With a mother such as you, my Emily, she will be fine. A mother such as me. Sometimes I wonder, Anton, do I live the way I dance? Is it just routine, technique? Am I, am I un-feeling? Oh, of course not. You're tired. I rehearsed you too long. Well, I look at Susan dancing here on the stage with me, and I'm amazed. She's living the music, lost in it. And for me, it's only a matter of prearranged motions that I know will produce the effect I want. You have been dancing 20 years, Emily. Susan has danced for two weeks. This is the difference. And it's the same with other things. Where is she? Susan? Why, she went with Stephen. Again? They had no idea how long I would keep you. Yes, yes, that's it. Of course. Do not worry so, Emily. Live more worry-less. Thank you, Anton. I'll try. But Susan, I'd planned... But Steve is determined to show me the village, and no other time will do. You understand? Susan, I... I'll be late, but don't bother to wait. Susan, you're late for rehearsal again. Now Anton's been waiting. I'm sorry, Mother. It's my fault. Susan was listening to my music. Oh, and Mother, it's beautiful. It's a new sweet Steve's composing. Spring and autumn. When Anton is kind enough to give you a chance, Susan, the least you can do is to get... I'll square it with Anton, Emily. Just leave everything to me. I'll take care of everything. I didn't see you standing up there. Come up here, Susan. We've got to talk. Mother, I... I know it's terribly late, and Steve said he'd call you tomorrow and explain... I'm a little wary of Mr. Barnes' explanations. He went to such a marvelous place, an artist's studio, and the paintings were lovely. Susan, this must stop. What do you mean? You and Steve. He's no companion for a girl your age. Why isn't he? He's been wonderful to me, telling me about music, taking me to see lovely things. Stephen Barnes is old enough to be your father. He's...he's... Well, he's as old or older than I am. But he doesn't act old or think old. Susan, you're going to be hurt terribly hurt. I'm sending you away before it goes any farther. Sending me away? You're going back to school. Hope it's Steve's ballet. I'm all rehearsed. Anton can make it solo again. I'll do both. You'll do both. That's it. That's the real trouble. You're jealous of me. Susan, you've heard them talking about me, that it's my ballet, that I steal it from you. That's why you're sending me away. You're jealous. Oh, darling, you can't believe that. How could you even say such a thing? I don't want you to be hurt. And it isn't only the ballet. It's Steve. Steve. I've taken him away from you, too. He loves me and he's never loved you. That's why you're doing this to me. Well, I won't let you... Susan, come back here. I'm going to Steve. He'll understand. He won't let you send me away. Susan, stop. You can't go. I'm going. You can't send me away. Susan, I've a bid you to go. I'm coming down. Mother, forgive me. Oh, don't, dear, don't. There's nothing to forgive. How are you, Steve? Mother, you're going to be all right. Your foot, it isn't badly hurt. I'll be all right, dear. But I won't dance anymore. Emily, don't say that. You've got to dance. You've just got to. I can't move my foot. But the doctor says there's no breakage. That there isn't even a bad sprain. I know. That's what he says. But I try and I try and... Oh, it's my fault. It's all my fault. No, it's not. It's no one's fault. It just happened. Too bad to give up Steve's ballet. Or maybe you could do a solo, Susan. Oh, no. No, I can't dance without you. I need you, Mother. We all need you, Emily. This could be Susan's big opportunity. If Anton thought she was ready... There's time. Almost two weeks. You could be well by then. No, Steve. I don't think so. I'm afraid there won't be any part of death. Feeling this morning, Mother? Fine. I'm much stronger. Let me wheel you through the park. It's such a lovely day. Oh, you've got rehearsal. And I know how Anton can be the last week. I'll be all right. I may roll out in the porch later and take some sun. Oh, Mother. Hurry, dear. You mustn't keep Anton and Steve waiting. We need you. We need you badly. I'm sorry, Anton. My foot, I... I can't move it. Have you tried? Day and night, Anton. I sit here in his empty house and concentrate on that foot. I concentrate until the perspiration breaks out in my forehead. And I can't make it move. It's dead. You've tried to stand? Yes, when Susan was gone. When I was alone. I try and I fall. You must not quit trying, Emily. We need you. We all need you, Emily. All of us. Steve, if you are right, if there's nothing the matter with Emily's foot, why does she insist there is? Because in her mind, Anton, she wants to be crippled. She never wants to dance again. She'll die. Dancing is a life. The night she fell, the night she and Susan quarreled, Susan accused Emily of holding her back, of being jealous. Jealous. The greatest ballerina in the world jealous of a gifted child. Ridiculous. But it stunned Emily. In her mind, she's come to think that it's true. And to keep from hurting Susan, she's resolved never to dance again. That's why she thinks her foot is crippled. It's only an excuse. But we must help. How can we help her, Steve? I'm not sure. But somehow I've got to make Emily see. Steve, you love her very much, don't you? Yes. I have for years. That's why I've got to help her. I've just got to. Don't stop playing, Emily. I haven't seen you in a long time. Susan's gone to rehearsal. Shouldn't you be there, too? I've come to get you. Get me? Oh, Steve, you know that I can. Emily, listen. You can walk. You can dance. Dance better than anyone else in the world. Steve, don't. Please. You're afraid of hurting Susan. That's why you've sentenced yourself to that wheelchair. Oh, no, no, no. It isn't that. It's my foot. The doctor says there's nothing wrong with your foot. It's in your mind. You don't want to dance. You don't want it because you think it'll hurt Susan. Steve, I know you mean to help, but it doesn't. It only hurts more. You were worried about Susan and me. Well, I was falling in love with her. She's only a child, Steve. Why do you suppose I love Susan from the moment I walked into your dressing room that night? I don't know. Because she was you, Emily. A younger, softer you. She was Emily without bitterness, without glitter. She was the Emily of my dreams. Steve, you're saying that you were in love with me. That I was. That I am. That I always will be. Steve. Oh, Emily. Emily, you could be all and everything if you would. The tenderness and the warmth that Susan has and the understanding and depth and beauty too. Waltz. The Waltz you wrote for Susan. I wrote it for you. The you that I've loved for so long, but I never thought I'd find. Steve, Susan was right. I was jealous. Jealous and I didn't know why. I had known what I was missing. What I was losing until she came. There was no reason. You have my love, Emily. You'll always have it. Steve, I've been dancing solo and center stage too long. That's why I wrote part-a-deur. Would she still want to dance it with me, Steve? She's waiting at the theater now. They're all waiting. Steve, I'm scared. Suppose I can't walk. I can't dance. Of course you can. You want to. Emily, you want to more than anything. And we want it. Susan and I. Listen. Steve, I can feel the music now. All the things it's saying to me about love. Our love. Dance it, Emily. Put those feelings into movement. Dance it. Dance it. I'll try. You can do it, Emily. Just will it, and you can do it. Steve, it's all right. My foot, it's all right. I can dance. I can dance. My hand, Susan. Oh, you're right, Emily. Positively raided. I'm in love, Steve, for the first time too long. I'm in love with you, with Susan, with the audience, with the whole world. We're ready. This is Frank Frey again. Tonight's story was about the ballet, one of the most beautiful of the art forms. But if you don't mind, I'd like to talk about the most perfect of all art forms. Prayer. For art, whether it be painting, sculpture, the theta, or any of the long established modes of expression, is only one form of man's attempt to reach perfection. The painter puts an image on canvas. Perhaps the likeness of a mountain or in modern art, a picture of his impression of the mountain. It's the same with the sculptor, except that he uses marble instead of canvas. And the theta, the actor whose portrayal of a fictitious or historical character is most perfect, is considered the best actor. You see, art is an attempt to reach the infinite, the perfect. And that's why I say prayer is the greatest of the art forms. For in prayer are dialogues with God. And by it we create something vastly more wonderful than any other form of art. We not only create a thing of beauty, we forge a bond between ourselves and God. And when we pray, as families, the bond is strengthened by just that much in the name of him who said, where two or three are gathered together, in my name, I am in the midst of them. That's why family theta tells us week after week the family that prays together stays together. More things are walked by prayer than this world brings up. From Hollywood Family Theater has brought you Pa de Deux, starring Jane Wyatt, Joan Evans, and Gordon Oliver with Stan Waxman. Frank Fay was your host. The script was written by John McGreevy with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman and was directed for Family Theater by Joseph F. Mansfield. This is Tony Lofrano expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home. And inviting you to join us next week when Miss Loretta Young will star in Family Theater special anniversary program, Heritage of Home. Join us, won't you? The largest network. This is the mutual broadcasting system.