 Lux presents Hollywood. The Lux Radio Theatre brings you Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Francis Dee, and Sir Cedric Hardwick in If I Were King. Ladies and gentlemen, your producer, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Everyone connected with the theater has a special affection for certain plays. Tonight's play, If I Were King, happens to be a favorite of mine. Just as it's been a favorite of millions of theatergoers the world over. Aside from its entertainment value, I have a very personal reason for liking this play, due to my rather romantic association with it some years ago. Just after Mrs. DeMille and I were married, we were both engaged for the cast of the original New York production, starring the celebrated E.H. Southern. Fortunately for the family treasury, If I Were King was a smashing success, and our honeymoon became a lengthy tour of the country. The play brought us to Los Angeles for the first time, but we failed to discover anything very promising in the wild and woolly suburb now called Hollywood. Our play delighted audiences everywhere we went. It's one of those romantic dramas that take a hit with men as well as women, a double appeal. And we note in passing that our product, Lux Toilet Soap, has this same double appeal. In fact, we've heard from a number of men in our audience that they were the ones who first introduced Lux Toilet's soap into their homes, only to have the idea and the soap appropriated by the ladies. If I Were King is a story of medieval Paris and Francois Vuitton, who really lived in the reign of Louis XI, Vuitton was a merry rogue who could ride a sonnet as deftly as he could fight a duo, who ruled the rabble with a bold heart and a ready tongue and who dared to fall in love with the loveliest lady of the court. If the Lux Radio Theatre had been presenting If I Were King about 15 years ago, our cast would probably have been headed by a gentleman named Douglas Fairbanks. We might have found a boy's part for his son, but in 1939, it's Douglas Fairbanks Jr., who seems to us the ideal actor for the swashbuckling hero of our play. And although Mr. Fairbanks has always been rather secretive about the matter, it's a fact that he once wrote some poems. That gives him a very realistic approach to the poet Ville. For the part of Catherine, we selected an actress who seems to have a very special talent for recreating the glamour and brilliance of a day-long past. She's Frances Dee, who played this same role in the recent Paramount Picture If I Were King. As Louis XI, you'll hear Sir Cedric Hardwick, who comes to us thoroughly steeped in the medieval mood. For some weeks, he's been at home in the Middle Ages. As a leading character in RKO's The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Now for the clash of swords. The colourful romance and dangerous intrigue of If I Were King. Starring Douglas Fairbanks Jr. as Francois Villean, Frances Dee as Catherine, and Sir Cedric Hardwick as the King. We raised the curtain on Act I. Paris in the 15th century. Paris torn with conflict. Her inhabitants facing starvation. For besieging the city on all sides, are the troops of the Duke of Burgundy. Determined to rest the throne from King Louis XI. In the cold misty dawn, the file of Louis' guards marches through the silent narrow streets. Their footsteps ringing out against the stones. Perhaps they've heard a whispered rumour, that even now a band of cut ropes, led by a certain Francois Villean, is plundering the King's private warehouse. And the rumour is true. In the cellar of the warehouse, the watchman stands bound to a post. The shadows move quickly in the darkness, filling great bags with the King's good food and wine. Hey, gently, my friends, gently with that box. Have a little more respect for the King's cheese. And for an ex. If you aren't quieter, you'll have a watch down on us. It's June now, Francois. We better go. Will that barge outside hold any more food, Rainier? Perhaps, but even if it will. Then, if there's more to take, we'll take it. You, my watchman friend. Are there any more stores here we haven't found? So you can't speak, eh, fancy pair? No, no, no, Rainier, put up your knife. Why give yourself the trouble? To help them forget what we look like. I don't think he'll remember us. Well, you fancy pants. No, I swear I won't remember. You fool, Francois. We'll hang for this. Then let us hang. But not for murder. Francois, the King's watch. They're at the door. Quickly, then, Rainier, Tabana, Casa. Through the passage and onto the barge. I'll wait here and head them off. Leave that basket. They're all going to stay here, Francois. They'll follow me, my friend. I'll leave them a merry chase to the streets until you're safe. If they catch me, remember me and your prayers. Now go on, hurry. When I see you again, may you have your head. Watchman, watchman, where are you? This way, my loyal soldiers. This way. That man there. Arrest that man. This way, gentlemen. Over here. Stop! Stop there! Hi, my friend, but I have business elsewhere. You went that way. No, he didn't. He went into the church square. Which way shall we go, Captain? No, both ways. You're fooled, but catch him. There he is. There he is, Captain. Where? On the wall of the churchyard. Now he's over all. Talk about it. Follow him. Who lives in that house by the church? One of the priests, but Father Dion. Come with me. Good morning, Father Dion. I regret disturbing you, but one of the King's storehouses has just been robbed. King's storehouse robbed? Yes. By the poor, no doubt, they're so hungry. One of the priests was seen climbing over the churchyard wall. Did you see him? Oh, I can truthfully say I did not see him. Well, watch out for him. We'll be back. All clear, Francois. They're gone. You may come out now. Bravo, good Father. You lied like a gentleman. I didn't lie. He asked me if I saw you coming over the wall. I didn't. Never mind, Father Dion. I'm hungry now. How about some breakfast? Not one morsel, not a smell of food, you young wastrel. And do you tell me what this means? Oh, you wound me. You wound me deeply, Father. I've just returned from the country. My first thought is, naturally, of my foster father. I've fly to your domicile, and how am I received? Like a fly in the soup. In the first place, you haven't been in the country because you couldn't get through the Burgundian lines without wings. And if there's one man in France who hasn't got wings, it's you, Francois. And in the second place, I understand that you were drinking every night last week in a dirty den called the Furcone Tavern. Guzzling wine with a young wench name you get. Oh, that's not true, Father. Well, I choose to believe it. And why shouldn't I? Have you ever shown me anything but ingratitude or brought me anything but misery since I took you in at the age of six? Oh, that is true, Father. At six, you were skilled at breaking windows. At seven, I was an expert. At eight, you stole a chicken from the spit of Monsieur Le Dau. Oh, but that was a very small, thin chicken. No, no, don't cloud the issue. At eleven, you stole a goat. A fat goat. Lovely view from this window, Father. So impressive to see the faithful coming out from early next. And at fourteen, at fourteen, you were carefully avoiding your classes in the university to spend your days fishing and gambling and writing bad verses. The name of a thousand saints. Francois, you're not listening. What's wrong with you? Who is she, Father? Tell me. Who is who? There, that girl that just came out of the church. No, now, Francois. Look at her, Father. The face of a saint. The figure of an angel. What is that to you? She's a lady, Francois. From the court, perhaps. She's getting into her coach alone. The princess must never ride alone. Francois, come back. You can't, not that girl. You're mad. Francois. Drive on, please, Coachman. Yes, my lady. Please wait. I was afraid I wouldn't catch you. Your coachman might hear and misunderstand. Princess, what have I done to offend you ever? What? Well, I've never seen you before in my life. What would you have forgotten my dreams? I've dreamt of you always. Each night we've roamed the starry way together. Each morning I've wakened with despair in my heart to realize no mortal could be so fair. Yet here you are, the loveliest lady this sight of heaven. I think you're a mad man. Coachman, will you please? May I read you a poem? No, you may not. Thank you, my lady. If I were king, I'll love if I were king. What tributary nations would I bring to scoop before your scepter and to swear allegiance to your lips and eyes and hair? Beneath your feet what treasures I would fling. The stars would be your pearls upon a string. The world a ruby for your fingering. And you should have the sun and moon to wear if I were king. That verse. Who's is it? Mine. Or rather yours now. Where is it, ma'am? Of all the luck. Soldiers, what does this mean? Come here. You mean me, Captain? Thought you got away, did you? Are you Francois Ville? Francois Ville, Captain, at your service. Where's that watchman? The one they bound. Here, here, here, Captain. Now, is this the man who robbed the king's doorhouse? Well, answer. And answer carefully, my good man. No, I've never laid eyes on this pan before. Have I? Pantsy pan. Never, my good leather britches. Well, we'll take them along anyway, just to be sure. Just a moment, Captain. Yes, ma'am. There must be some mistake. I saw this gentleman at his place back there in the church. An acquaintance of mine. We've met before on starry nights. What? Well, let the gentleman go for the present at least. Forward! Thank you, Fair Princess. Drive on, coachman. Yes, ma'am. Farewell, Princess. To the palace, Lady Catherine. To the palace, please. Morning, Lady Catherine. Your Majesty, I didn't see you. I thought the quality of my disability would remain unobserved. The queen's been asking for you. Thank you, Your Majesty. Lovely girl. It's your Majesty. It's your Majesty. You were telling me of the arrow that came over the walls last night. Ah, yes, last night, just an arrow came over the walls from the Badundian camp. There was a note in the feather, obviously intended, to one of my more important traitors. Who is it, Your Majesty? The note didn't say. A soldier, probably, in the pay of my traitor was seen to pick the arrow up. I had him tortured all the evening. Did he speak? Yes, just a few minutes before he... before dawn. He was put the name of the person high in my favor. Traitor, here it called. Who is it? It's a secret, Christon, which you may know tonight. You see, the note was to be delivered to the landlord of the Furcone Tavern. We will deliver it to you and I in person. The Furcone Tavern. A retreat for every scoundrel in Paris. You can't go there, Your Majesty. In disguise, Diston, in complete disguise. The landlord will in turn give the note to the person for whom it was intended. When he does so, we have our traitor, Tristan. But, Your Majesty, I tell you, the Furcone Tavern. It's a harbor of cockroach, digger, thief, the scum of the earth. Hmm, interesting. I should like to see this scum alive. I've only seen it before at the end of a rump. Good evening, Grover. Oh, strange, isn't it? Is this the Furcone Tavern? Yes, it is. Is the landlord here? I'm the landlord. Then we'll come in for a cup of wine, my friend. But who? A cup of burgundy wine. What are you talking about? Perhaps this note will talk first. I know. Give it to me quickly. The other one, though. Will he be here for it tonight? Yes. What will you have, missy? A denny of flagon of red. A denny of flagon of red. I don't like this, Your Majesty. Tristan. Please, Tristan. Would you go in my disguise with a word? Careful. We have a guest. A drink for our company, gentlemen? Come on. Come on. What will it be, mademoiselle? You can buy me wine. Collect. Come here. They are going to buy us wine. Get out of here. Who's speaking to you? I'm interested in horse fades. Hello, horse fades. My name is, uh, you get? You get? Oh, lovely. Did you say wine, you get? Oh, welcome, sir. Get off my lap. Oh, no, no. Pussycute. Come in. Come in all of those baskets of food and wine. Help yourselves, everybody. Tonight you're the guests of His Majesty the King, because last night we robbed his storehouse. Interesting. Very interesting, Tristan. Very interesting. My little love, oh, you get. I'm sorry to see you in such poor company. With father time himself, I see, huh? Who is this rope? It's Prince Magillot. He probably rhymes badly. A tinker refers, his gentlemen. No offense. And poetry is its own worst enemy. Now, come on, join me in a bottle of wine, fit for a king. Here's to King Louis. May his hide rot on his carcass, and may the Burgundians take the city away from him. For there still may they take him away from the city. For he who does nothing gets nothing. And he who dares nothing deserves nothing. You drink more than is good for you, my friend. What can a man do but drink when France is going to the devil and an income poops sits on a throne? I suppose you could do better if you were king. I don't want to appear boastful. Brother Long knows, but a child of two could do better. Really? Yes, really. Well, if it's so easy to be king, how would you begin, my friend? First, I'd clean house. The vermin who infest the palace disguised as advisors I'd hang and clustered. And then? I'd try to know my subjects, try to earn their love instead of their loathing. By abolishing taxes, I suppose. No, by substituting hope for despair, by seeing my people as they are, by bringing out the best in them, by knowing the worst in them. In other words, if I were king, the French would be my children, not my enemies. Thank you, my subjects. Pegas, open the cheese. Francois, what would you do for me if you were king, Francois? If I were king? Oh, love, if I were king. What tributary nations would I bring to stoop before your sceptre and to swear allegiance to your lips and eyes and hair? Would you? What? What were you thinking about? When did you write that poem anyway? I never heard it. I, uh... I don't remember exactly. You snake. You know it's for some other wench. I swear on my hereditary honour. You have no honour. You're a liar, and I can tell by the look in your eyes. Here, clown, a coin for your aimlets. Well, that's more than I usually get. I suppose you're going to keep it, you imp. You get, my little lord. Open here. In whose name? In the name of the grand and sensible apprentice. Oh, oh. The grand consulate himself. Open the door. Listen, over here quickly. Out of sight. What is it, Your Majesty? Grand Constable Tristan. High in my favour. You think he is a traitor? Look, the landlord is passing on our note. But the grand constable of France. Our man, Tristan. Paul the jibbit. I shall examine this tax receipt later, landlord. Yes, Your Excellency. The moment I have other business. My men and I have been informed that there is a certain storehouse thief here known as Francois Villon. Which is he? We never heard of him. What is this? Do I have to hang you all for a pack of lying names? That won't be necessary, Your Excellency. That's Francois Villon. The tall one there. Villon. Come with me. Sangracque. I am Francois Villon, but I do not intend to know either the king's dungeon or the king's noose. Not while I have a sword. Don't let them take you, Francois. Do you defy the grand constable of France? Yes. Ten pie, then, Your Excellency. Order! Order of the king's name! My personal guard, that was thoughtful of you, Tristan. The Lord Grand Constable. Where is he? He's here, Captain. Or rather, there. He's dead. Stabbed? Duval LeFouche. This man has murdered the Grand Constable of France. Take him out and hang him! Just a moment, Captain. Well, not so quick with the rope. Oh, you do interfere with the king's justice. I am the king's justice. What? What? Your Majesty. God save the king! Good evening, my loyal subjects. And good evening to you, Master Philosopher. Nile Francois, the king! I'm afraid it's a little late for etiquette. Quite so, Master Vion. Captain Orestes men removed them all to the palace dungeon. Tristan, your Majesty, I will see Francois Vion in my private chambers. Bring him there at once. Now, Master Vion, I suppose you wonder what I'm going to do with you. Your Majesty is not of the imaginative type. I can almost guess. Isn't that a dangerous tone to use in the circumstances? Vion, tonight you have insulted me publicly. You have made revolutionary speeches naming yourself as my successor. You have even robbed my storehouse and eaten the loot under my very nose. I didn't know it was your Majesty's nose. Well, don't be impertinent. You did know it was my storehouse, and then you topped off the evening by assassinating my Grand Constable. Oh, he started the fight. You finished it. And for that piece of work, your King is indebted to you. Indebted? My Lord Grand Constable was a traitor, which leaves me with the problem of at once punishing you and rewarding you. A problem for Solomon himself. A greater King would hang you at once, unless it would forgive you. I probably fall somewhere between the two. And this is my decision. Since you have deprived me of my Grand Constable, and since you think it's so easy to rule these cockroaches who call themselves my subjects, I'm hereby appoint you Grand Constable of France and Brittany. Grand Constable? Defender of the Crown, Commander-in-Chief of the Armies and dispenser of justice. High, middle, and low. Is this a gesture, Your Majesty? Not at all. Here, too, for I've selected my Grand Constable from the noble families of France. They've been either traitors or cowards. Oh, it's true you come from the gutter. But you have a certain degree of loyalty, courage, and practical common sense. This time, I'm going to appoint a Grand Constable from the people. And, uh... Oh, yes, as you need a title to go with it. A title, but I... Onionis. François Villon. Cutthroat. I dub you Count de Montcourbier, hereditary knight of the Golden Buckle. And now... Now, I think you need a bath. This way, my Lord. Your Majesty. My Lord Grand Constable. In the second act, we watch the amiable Monsieur Vieux adjust a beggar's philosophy to the king's palace. But during this brief intermission, the amiable Monsieur Rouic and our merry trio have something to say and to sing that I think will interest you. Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Francis D., and Sir Cedric Hardwick will be back in a few minutes to bring you act two of If I Were King. But while we're waiting, let's ask our friend Sally what makes her so thoughtful. She looks as if she had a real idea that is in on it, Sally. Well, tonight's play, If I Were King, makes me think a lot of ifs. You know, a woman is always dreaming of the wonderful things she'd have if she had money, or if she had talent, if this and if that. Yes, and sometimes she doesn't value the priceless things she does have right now. Like a luxe-toilet soap complexion? Of course. A smooth, soft complexion is something you can't buy and wouldn't take any amount of money for. Yes, I should think any woman would realize that the beauty of her complexion is priceless. Possession that ought to be cherished most carefully. But why do I do the talking? This is a subject dear to every woman's heart. Why don't I hand it over to you girls? We'll handle it with care, Mr. Roick. Beautiful complexion should be handled with care. You cannot buy a new one anytime, anywhere. So, in taking beauty soap, make it your reason. Luxe soap is the right soap. We advise you as we do. Thank you very much, girls. Oh, you don't need to thank us, Mr. Roick. It's fun to sing about luxe-toilet soap. And it's fun to use it. Honestly, I never saw such smooth, rich ladder. When you make luxe-toilet soap a regular bedtime habit, you go to sleep with this clear conscience. You know you aren't leaving traces of dust and dirt or stale cosmetics to choke your pores. Use cosmetics all you want to, but remove them thoroughly every night with luxe-toilet soap. To find white soap, 9 out of 10 screen stars use. The gentle soap that's good for your skin. This will only take a minute from the time that you begin it. Don't forget your luxe beauty care. Here's our producer, Mr. DeMille. Act two of The Fyre King, starring Douglas Fairbanks Jr. as Francois Vuitton, Francis D. as Catherine, and Sir Cedric Hardwick as the King. It's the following morning. Francois Vuitton, vagabond and poet, has awakened to find himself the Count de Montcobier and grand constable of all France. In his luxurious apartments in the Royal Palace, he stands before a long mirror, wondering at his own transformation, especially a pointed aide who addresses him. And now they keep your Excellency. The final touch. Oh, yes. Thank you, Oliver. Your name is Oliver, isn't it? Yes. If it please your Excellency. It does please my Excellency. Ah, I look very different in fancy dress. You know, I'm not quite sure myself that I am myself. Well, then I'm not, am I? Incidentally, has the King informed the court in general as to my real identity? Oh, no, my lord. No one knows. I believe His Majesty, Lord Tristan, and necessarily myself. And to all the rest? You are a strange nobleman from the promises. The Count de Montcobier. The Count de Montcobier. Do you spell that with a small D or a capital D? Small, Your Excellency. And now, if I may remind you, sir, you were to be presented to the court at 11 o'clock. It's half past now. In good time, Oliver. At the moment there are some things I want to know. Now that I am Grand Constable of France and Brittany, et cetera, what do I do? Do you, Your Excellency? Yes. You govern. Oh. Oh, yes, of course I govern. Tell me, just how does a Grand Constable fill his day? First, he inspects the guards, reposts to his Majesty, tries all prisoners, both civil and military. Prisoners? Have we any prisoners today? Well, only those who were arrested last night with a deferred coat and tabin. What? Are they still here? And I'm supposed to try them? At your convenience, my lord. There is no hurry. No hurry. Listen, my friend, if you have ever been chained in a slimy dungeon fearful and hopeless and thinking every moment might be your last, you'd know whether there was need for hurry or not. I'll try those prisoners now immediately. But, Your Excellency, you can't. The King, the whole court, they're waiting. And so are the prisoners. Bring them in once. The man must be mad. Does he realize that I have been waiting that the entire court has been waiting? Yes, Your Majesty. But he insisted upon trying the prisoners. He hid behind a screen and heard their pleas and then he freed them and gave them each a piece of gold. What? He told them it was from you and they cheered you, Your Majesty. Cheered me? They cried, God save Louis. I wish I had been there. It would have been a noble sensation. Your Majesty, good morning, sir. Ah, my Lord Grand Constable. I'm happy to learn of my new magnanimity. Now, instead of hanging criminals, I cover them with gold. Interesting. And sensible, Your Highness. Those criminals, as you call them, stole only to avoid starvation. We won't go into that at present. Now, if you don't mind, would you kindly come and meet my Queen and court before the all-collapsed from exhaustion? Your Majesty. My Lord Grand Constable. Lady Catherine, do you see him? Yes, Your Majesty. He's coming this way now. What does he look like, Catherine? Well, he's quite handsome, Your Majesty. For a grand Constable, that's quite an innovation. My generals, or rather your generals, count. Generals de Laun, Antouille and de La Poussette. I present the count to Montcobier. Honourable Lords. I was just saying to Montcobier that I am somehow unfamiliar with the name of de Montcobier. That is the name, isn't it, Count? Yes, with a small D. Yes. I say I somehow have never heard the name. I can't say the same for the name of de Laun, General. Ever since you won the battle of Montlery, I've watched your career with increasing interest. I didn't win the battle of Montlery. Oh, that's right. You've lost it. But, uh, there was the battle of Liège. Yes, we lost that too, my dear Count. Oh, did we? Oh, sorry. Uh, we must have a long chat about some of your other battles sometime from now. Let us proceed, Count. And now, by Count de Gretilla and de Sénéchal. The name of a thousand saints. Your pardon, Your Majesty. Your Excellency, come back. Madame Moiselle. My Lord. I, uh, forgive me, this may seem rude of me, but my name is de Montcobier. Silly, I, I just looked at you from across the room there, and nearly forgot my name. You, you don't live here. I'm one of Her Majesty's ladies in waiting. Oh, what a fortunate queen. You know, the moment I saw you, I said to myself, there is all the beauty of the universe, past, present, and future, embodied in one person. My Lord, His Majesty is waiting. Tell me, what is it? What is what, My Lord? The name of all this loveliness. My name is Catherine de Vosel. Catherine de Vosel. Your Majesty. Your Majesty, what is it to love? Why this interruption? An enemy heralded in the Duke of Burgundy-Sire under a flag of truce. He demands audience. Admit the herald of Burgundy. Your Majesty, if the terms are at all reasonable, I should advise accepting them. Would you, General de Vosel? Our army is extremely unsettled. Dessertions every day. I shall remember, General. The herald of Burgundy. Well, Sir Herald, I suppose you have something to say. I have. Then say it, friend. In the name of the Duke of Burgundy and his brothers-in-arms, assembled in overwhelming numbers outside the walls of Paris, I hereby summon you, Louis of France, to surrender unconditionally and throw yourself upon my master's mercy. Hmm, and if I refuse, Sir Herald? For the city, famine to the end, then fire and the sword. For yourself, no hope of pardon. And if I surrender the city? For yourself and your court an honorable retreat to the Duchy of Apennée. You mean a dishonorable retreat, don't you? Who are you? Account de Montcorpier, Knight of the Golden Buckle, Grand Constable of France, Chief of the Armies, the dispenser of all justice, high, middle, and low. No, don't bother to look around. I'm replacing the traitor who was in your master's employ. You dare to... Don't make any more movements like that, or I'll have you sent back to your master in a bag. You very bad manners, my friend. And you rate yourself too highly. You are not the envoy of a conquering hero, but the servant of a group of shabby little vassals, rebellious serfs of a noble lord. Now, go back and tell them this. Kings are great in the eyes of their people, but the people are great in the eyes of God, and it is the people of France who are speaking to you now. We're well armed in provision. We're warm and comfortable behind our strong walls. We laugh at your threats. But if we who eat were starved, if we who are warm were frozen, our answer would still be the same. We laugh at you. We, the people, and the king. And this is your answer? No, not all. We give you one week to disband and get out. If at the end of the week you're still cluttering up the outskirts of our city, we'll attack and destroy you to the last man. Now, we don't wish to be annoyed further. But what's your majesty? Is this your... Pardon me, Lord Grand Constable. Get out. Why, why, this is the most astounding thing. What does it mean? It means your majesty. That a man has come to court. Tell me, my lord, do you think the Pagandians will retreat, or will they stay and be slaughtered? I'm afraid they'll stay and be slaughtered, Lady Captain. Will you attack at dawn or during the night? Which would you prefer? Well, I should think that... You're making fun of me. Oh, my lady, I'm smiling because my heart is singing. And because I love your faith in the French. We'll attack at dawn or dusk, a noon or midnight, and we'll win. Oh, well, you talk. I hope I can fight half as well. Yet, you may be killed. Not if I can help it. And yet, I put a glorious death to die for France. Well, it's better than some I can think of, but death in any form should be avoided if possible. My lord, tell me, have we met before? Have we? I've never been that fortunate. Why do you ask? Because there's something about you, some note of your voice. I look in your eyes that I seem to remember. I wish we had met a long time ago. I think I wish it, too. Lady Catherine. Well, what is it? Your pardon, my lord, but the generals are assembled and waiting in the council chamber. Oh, yes, Tristan. I'll be there at once. Very good, my lord. Generals? Yes, I've called the Council of War. To decide when you shall attack. Will you bring me words? Where shall I find you? I shall wait right here. Well, you might catch cold, haven't you? Won't you use some little corner you'll call your own? Well, you might find me behind the fourth door on the right, on the third floor of the east wing. Can you remember? It's engraved on my brain in letters of fire. It's ludicrous, suicidal, and impossible. My soldiers would refuse to obey such an order if I were mad enough to give it to them. There's the answer to your proposal, my lord Constable. General De Laos, I order you to break through the Burgundian lines and attack within a week. And I refuse. So do I, Your Majesty. And I. It's impossible. Your Majesty, it's evident that your lord Grand Constable's plan is completely impractical. We're wasting time. Have we your permission to rejoin our command? You have my permission. Thank you, sir. Cowards. Well, my friend, it's not so easy as you've thought, is it? Give me a little time, Your Majesty. Ah, yes, but you... You haven't much time, have you, Count? I don't understand. Didn't I tell you? Oh, careless of me. How many prisoners were taken from the furcone tavern? Eight. But you're wrong, my friend. You tried eight and disposed of them most generously with the king's gold. But there was a ninth. Oh. Hmm, a troublesome fellow named Francois Villon. What sentence will you pass on him? What does Your Majesty suggest? Boiling him in oil or breaking him on the wheel? Nothing so melodramatic, my friend. This Villon rendered me a slight service, which we are paying with a week of exalted splendor, a week, seven days. At the end of that time, I shall expect you to build me an extra fine gibbet and from it hang Master Villon. I see. A week. You know, for a few hours, Your Majesty had me disappointed in you. I'm glad your faith in me was sustained. Good night, my dear Count, and, uh, pleasant dreams. I did remember the way to come, my lord. Engraved in letters of fire. Praise it down, my lord. Here, by the fireplace. There's a cushion for your back. And I had some food brought. What would you like? Oh, I'm not hungry, thank you. I know. You're worried, aren't you? I'm beginning to think. Oh, but think. In a week. In one little week. All your troubles will be over. The city will be free. Food will be coming in the gates. And in the spring, there'll be hunts in the forests of Fontainebleau. The poor will go for picnics and... Will you take me on a picnic? My lord, when do we attack? We don't. We don't? No, it seems you'll never attack from the inside out. Or when you're afraid of the enemy. The generals were very firm about that. Then get new generals. There are too many to replace within a week. Then attack in two weeks. But you see, His Majesty gave me only one. Catherine, I'm afraid that I won't be able to take you on a... On a picnic in the spring. Why not? Spring is some time off. And time does strange things to people. I wonder... I wonder in what misty I will... The voice of Sappho fills the air. In what green valley of the Nile does Cleopatra still despair for Antony, the debonair? The wind has blown them all away. The good, the bad, the foul, the fair. Where are the snows of yesterday? Who wrote that? No person of no importance. Who's to be hanged? Petty. You shouldn't feel too sorry for it. The wretches are born and live in the shadows of the jibbit. They're starved and tortured. The slightest wrong they commit is punishable by hanging. So at last, when they do hang, well, they've always expected it. Aren't we lucky we're not in their shoes. Yes, it is nice, isn't it? You're starving people. The generals would fight soon enough if they didn't have so much food to stuff themselves with. What'd you say? The generals, the army. Think fat pigs. Well, that's it. Of course that's it! What? Of course they'd fight when their stomachs are flapping against their backs they'd fight soon enough. They'd fight now with six months food in the storehouses. But if it were taken away from me. Oh! You wonderful heaven sent dream of loveliness. Lord. Tomorrow will be a happy day for the hungry and a busy day for the storehouses. You mean you're going to... I mean I'm going to open every storehouse and give away all the food. Then they'll have to fight. Yes, of course. My lady, Catherine, there I kiss your hand. My hand? Since you've already kissed me on the lips, aren't you becoming a little formal? Did I really? I thought I was dreaming. Oh, so did I. Catherine. Yes, my lord. Catherine, perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps there may be a spring for us. If what I do tonight, oh, it must not fail, Catherine. It is the one last hope for France and for us. That was act two of If I Were King. The vagabond poet has become a man of action, but Francois Vieux meets his greatest test when he tries to save his country from the invader. Before we begin act three, a friend of ours and yours is going to tell you a little personal gossip. I want to remind the ladies in our audience that luck's toilet soap isn't only as fine a complexion soap as money can buy. Every day, more women are discovering that this white, delicately perfumed soap makes a wonderful bath soap, too. I just adore my luck's toilet soap beauty bath. It's so sort of luxurious and relaxing and such a protection. This lather is active, you know, and carries away perspiration and every trace of dust and dirt. I'm in a hurry to keep my date, but I wouldn't take chances with daintyness for anything in the world. That's the voice of one of those clever, up-to-date women who depend on a daily luck soap bath to protect their feminine charm. She's the kind of girl that, well, let's have a look at her later this evening. She's dancing now, and Bill says, Gee, Betty, you're gorgeous. Your skin is fragrant, so sweet. A luck soap beauty bath does leave skin sweet, delicately fragrant, attractive. You know, the perfume of luck's toilet soap is not an ordinary perfume. It's a skillful blend of 34 costly ingredients. So you see, in every way, luck soap is a splendid product. Next time you unwrap a smooth, fragrant cake of luck soap, see how exquisite it looks, how luxurious it feels. It's as fine a soap as money can buy. Then use it for a daily bath that will refresh and relax you and assure you of daintyness, of skin that's sweet. We pause now for station identification. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. Here with the third act of If I Were King. Inspired by a chance remark of the Lady Catherine, Francois V.R. with her rabble-marbeted heels sweeps through the streets of Paris and pounds commandingly on the door of every royal storehouse. And this is an emergency. The people are starving. You'll do as I say, storekeeper. I'll hang you to one of your own meat hooks before you can say Louis XI. Open this door. Yes, my lord. To starve me and my queen, no one will starve your majesty. Francis, full of food. The country outside is groaning with grain. Mountains of flour milled here in the mills. The pigs beseech you to accept their fattest ham. They nearly have to go out and get them. I suppose you suggest we fly over the Badundian lines. Not at all, your majesty. We can fight through them. Don't you think so, gentlemen? I'm possible. My lord, grand constable. If France did not already have a Saint Louis, I'd expect to go down in history by that name itself for my patience with you. But I'll give you a year week. My thanks, your majesty. Save them. Yes, sir. For remaining five days, you will see that at least the palace kitchens are kept locked. Locked and barred to me, lord grand constable. The streets come with the streets. The king's food's none too good for you. There's something about this I don't understand. There's nothing to understand, Renee. We have no food to the king gives it to us. I say, long live the king! The likes of us, you get. To me, it's all very fishy. My chicken, isn't it? Is yours? My child, you get. Oh, good evening, father, be all. My child, weren't you with François when he was arrested? I was, father. I heard that you and the others had been released, but what of him? He wasn't with us. Then the worst has happened. No. Nothing has happened to him, father. How can you be sure? Because I sleep at night. And I never sleep again. It's François. We're not well. I love him, father. My child, my poor child. Catherine. Well, it's happened. Tonight his majesty had his last meal. Now they'll have to fight. Well, they don't know them very well. What do you mean? I've been in conference all evening with our noble generals. Our glorious army has determined not to resist Burgundy. Neither cold nor starvation will swerve them from that noble impulse. Then we've fainted. My week ends tonight. Is that the reason you've avoided me? Why did you avoid me, my lord? Catherine, did you ever ask yourself where the Count de Macaulier came from? No. If it ever occurred to you that you might have come from the streets of Paris? My lord, for a moment I thought you were serious. If I were king, I'll love if I were king. What tributary nations would I bring to stoop before your scepter and to swear allegiance to your lips and eyes? At first. I heard it from you. Who are you? I am François Ville. François Ville. Why did you do this to me? I never intended to. It started as the jest of a king, and then I loved you. With all the meaning that the word can have than paradise. I couldn't give you any godly a thing if I were king. Go. Please go. Forgive me, Catherine. Your Excellency. Your Excellency. What is it? The Bergenians. They've broken through the West Gate and our troops refuse to stop them. Of course they do. And there is an old man, a priest who says he must see the grand constable. His name is Fr. Villon. Fr. Villon. Take me to him quickly. I must see him. I must. Father, here. Oh, thank you, my lord. François. Yes, father. What are you doing here dressed like this? I thought you were dead. Later, father. What is this message of yours? Oh, I must see the grand constable. I am the grand constable, father. François, this is no time for nonsense. The Neda Montaigne has assembled all the rabble of Paris, all your old comrades in the Court of Miracles, hundreds, thousands of them. They're planning to sack and loot the city while the Bergenians are attacking. But François, if you were there, you could stop them. They would listen to you. Yes, they would. They will. And fight for me, too. There he is, just a... God, arrest him. Your Majesty, I have a plan. So have I. I suppose you know what's happened. I give you your week and you fail. Arrest him, I say. Not yet, sir. I have still five hours and I intend to use them. Stop him. Guard that window. Out of the way, Your Majesty. He got away, Your Majesty. And have him followed. He's to be cut down or arrested on sight. Yes, Your Majesty. Your post, generals. Do the best you can. And God save France. We'd never have such a chance again. But what of the king he gave us food? Yes, once and why. To trick us all into helping him. For two days we ate. Come to tell you a few things that my friend René has forgotten to tell you. No, there's no honour among thieves, so I won't talk of honour. And I'm not appealing to any patch of decency I know you've never had. But think of this. As we stand here, Paris is falling. Falling the thieves like ourselves. A bunch of cutthroats who've come all the way from Burgundy to take what belongs to us. Beggars to beg the bread out of our beggars' mouths. Cut purses to cut our purses. Well, what about it? Are we going to let these poachers move in on our preserve? Or are we going to let a lot of country louts show us how it's done? Then I tell you that no city can be conquered if it doesn't want to be. And my brothers, we are part of this city. The part that knows how to fight. Or don't we? Then I say, let us fight. Come to the West Gate. Attack from the side. Tabana, hold the square. The rest of you come with me. I'm a Burgundian arrow. Lay their souls right in hell. They belong to us. Yes. There really is another world. Isn't there? You get. You get. There he is. Don't stop me off. Yes. My orders are to take you to the palace. You've done good arrest. Arrest. But the city is free, His Majesty said. The order was from His Majesty himself. This way. He's in the dungeon, Your Majesty. Open it. Good morning, Master Cutthroat. Good morning, Cousin Blackheart. Does this mean that I'm to have the honour of your personal escort to the Chippet? I'm given to understand that you and some other foot pads have something to do with defeating the Burgundians last night. Is that true or not? Well, suppose I did. Only this, my friend. Once again, you made everything very complicated. You have a devilish talent for seating me on the point of the sword of justice, which is becoming uncomfortable in the extreme. I'm sorry I have no cushion to offer for Your Majesty's comfort. Please spare me your witticism. It's difficult enough trying to be King of France. I've found that out, Your Majesty. That's the first nice thing you've ever said to me. Well, Francois, beyond the recognition of your heroic but murderous services to the crown, I hereby commute your sentence of death to life imprisonment. Life imprisonment? Don't interrupt. You shall be imprisoned within the confines of our beautiful France to wonder or dally as you see fit. The stars shall be your roof and your bed, the lush meadows of Normandy or the warm sands of Brittany. That's almost poetry, isn't it? The most beautiful I've ever heard, Your Majesty. But there is one condition. As you are an inveterate mischief maker, rabble, rouser and soar of dissension, I forbid you to ever show yourself again inside the walls of Paris. You can have the rest of France, but I must have peace. I sympathize, Your Majesty. You'll be turned over to the custody of your foster father who will see that you will leave by the north gate before dawn tomorrow. Now, get out. Your Majesty. My Lord Grand... Oh, get out. Oh, one other thing. Before you leave the palace, the Lady Catherine would like a word with you. What? With the Lord Grand Constable, sir? She said with Francois Vien. You owe her thanks, my friend. She interests you to know that it was through her interest that your neck has been saved from the rope. Go to her. No. No, it's much better if I... if I leave now, Your Majesty. Will you kindly tell the Lady Catherine that I hope someday to make the saving of my neck worthy of her efforts? Good day, Your Majesty. He told me to tell you that it was the end, my lady, that he could never accept your sacrifice until he knew for certain that he was deserving of it, that he was going on hoping to find a further understanding of the things that now have come to him. Which road did he take, Father? I promised not to tell. Was it the east? No. South? No. North? I promised not to tell. Oh, thank you, Father. My lady. There, that man walking ahead of us on the road down there now. Is he the one? Oh, yes. Shall we overtake him, my lady? No, driver. No, we mustn't overtake him until he's very tired. You see, he's a very obstinate man. It's the 20th century again. Francois Villon is once more a highly respected poet found on the shelves of our best libraries. And Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Francis D. and Sir Cedric Hardwick are returning to our microphone. You know, C.B., Francois Villon is such a famous character in fiction that most of his forgets that he actually lived. Are you a Villon admirer, Sir Cedric? Well, as a literary critic, I'm a good cricket player. But people are still reading what our friend Francois wrote 500 years ago, don't you think so, Douglas? Well, I studied in Paris for a couple of years and discovered that the fellow is still pretty much a live hero at the University of Paris. He corresponds to the halfback who ran 90 yards in the Yale game of 1908, except that Villon was a member of the class of 1440 something. Probably won his letter in dueling. He graduated with a law at his heels. But I doubt whether these motion pictures we make will be as much alive 500 years from now as Villon will. Five centuries from now? The audience for our 1939 pictures will probably consist of archaeologists and termites. I'd like to see the expression on a termite's face when he sees a couple of the pictures I've made. Well, if you want to send a personal message to the archaeologists, I'll bury it for you in our back pasture. There's one farmer to another, Francis. How are crops out your way? Well, alfalfa's good, but the chickens are taking a month's vacation. Well, I'm probably entitled to it like everyone else. Well, there's one thing that never gets a vacation at our house, and that's locked soap. It's really a daily necessity because it's such a splendid help to a smooth compaction. I started using it soon after I came to Hollywood, and I've been a Faithful Lux soap fan ever since. Now, what are you planning for Faithful Lux radio theater fans next week, CB? Next Monday night, we're going to present Invitation to Happiness, and our stars will be Fred McMurray and Madeleine Carroll. This is the story of a prize fighter who fought his greatest battle outside the ring, a fight for the love and respect of his own son. Fred McMurray and Madeleine Carroll. Oh, that'll be a great show, CB. I'll be listening in. In the meantime, long live the Lux radio theater. Good night. Good night. Good night. Good night. You three have given Master Bjorn new life tonight. Our sponsors, the makers of Lux toilet soap, join me in inviting you to be with us again next Monday night, when the Lux radio theater presents Fred McMurray and Madeleine Carroll in Invitation to Happiness. This is Cecil B. DeMille saying good night to you from Hollywood. This is Melville Roy, asking you to be sure to listen to the Lux daytime program, The Life and Love of Dr. Susan. This human and gripping story of a young attractive woman doctor is brought to you every afternoon, Monday through Friday. For the time in station, see your newspaper. The Life and Love of Dr. Susan comes to you in addition to the Lux radio theater. Heard in tonight's play were Anna Lisa, as you get, Wallace Roberts as Tristan, Barry McCollum as Renee, Frederick Shields as Father Vio, Tony Martelli as Oliver, Guy Rep as Captain, Lou Merrill as DeLau, Howard McNear as Tergis, Frank Nelson as Cassin, Gloria Gordon as Queen, Marjorie McGregor as Colette, Lee Millar as Dussigny, Robert Warwick Sr. as a General, Kenneth Lawton as Watchman, Tyler McVeigh and Sidney Newman as Soldiers, and Goan Burke as Driver. Douglas Fairbanks Jr. is now working in the Universal Picture, Green Hell, and is currently seen on the screen in Rulers of the Sea, a Frank Lloyd production for Paramount. Francis D.'s new picture is the Columbia Film Coast Guard. Sir Cedric Hardwick appeared tonight through the courtesy of Universal Pictures, where he has started work in The Invisible Man Returns. Lois Silver's is from 20th Century Fox, where he directed music for Hollywood Cavalcade. On tonight's program, you heard the tune This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.