 Family Theater presents Robert Ryan and Hans Conreed. Cooperation with your Family Theater brings you Hans Conreed as Sydney Carter in Charles Dickens' classic, The Tale of Two Cities. To introduce the drama, your host and narrator, Robert Ryan. Thank you, Gene Baker. Herewith we bring you the tragic yet triumphant story of a man, Sydney Carton. A man of golden promise who'd wasted every opportunity. This was Sydney Carton. He hated life, its people, and himself. So he drank, drank to forget, to numb the dull pangs of remorse. His disheveled, tipsy figure was a source of mystery in London legal circles. To all appearances, he was an errand boy and flunky for the honorable striver, a rising young barrister. But the truth was, he was strivers' mind, the brilliant legal strategist who engineered strivers' quick success. It was in 1780 that a young Frenchman, Charles Darnay, went on trial at the Old Bailey. The charge was treason, transmitting military information to the American rebel, George Washington. The completely innocent Darnay retained strivers' counsel, who as always, appeared before the bar accompanied by his apparent flunky, Sydney Carton. Throughout the opening morning, Carton seemed far more interested in the movements of a fly upon the ceiling than in anything taking place in court. Even when court recessed, he remained indifferent. Sydney? The honorable striver? Let's follow the crowd out and have lunch. We'll drink a glass to the pretty witness. Who's pretty? A picturesque old doctor's daughter, Lucy Manette. She? Pretty. The man alive, she had the whole court goggle eyed. I have a mind of Mary on myself. She's in love with Darnay, he with her. Well, not that they know it, yet. But they'll be married. I deny she'll marry the prisoner. Well, fella, there he sits, alone, forgotten, frightened. And the prisoner? Why don't you go over and cheer him up? I'll go out and comfort the young lady. Meet you at the bar. Right, striver. Mr. Darnay. Yes. I'm Sydney Carton, striver's jackal. That is, I'm useful to him. In return, he gives me lodgings and other considerations. Indeed, sir. Tell me, Mr. Darnay, how does it feel? Is it worth being tried for one's life to be the object of such sympathy? Shall I find out how she fares and tell you? Could you, could you tell her I am deeply sorry to have caused her agitation? Could you tell her so for me? Yes, I could. I will, if you ask it. I do ask it. You're, you're very kind. I am never kind. She'll be on the bench outside. I'll let you know. Miss Manette, I'm Sydney Carton, friend of strivers. How do you do, Mr. Carton? This is Mr. Lorry, an old friend of our family. We've met before. Unfortunate that we should meet again. Lucy, I shall return in time to escort you to the trial when it resumes. Won't you sit down beside me, Mr. Carton? No, thank you. Miss Manette, the prisoner, Darnay, feels responsible for your distress. It's a very assuring message, I might take him. Would you say it were a pity if they sentenced him to die? Yes. Well, that would be wrong. It would be awful. You would weep for him? I would weep. Shall I inform the prisoner of your womanly sentiments? Could you? Yes, I could. I will, if you ask it. I ask it. I'll convey your message to the prisoner. Thank you for your kindness. No kindness was intended. Mr. Stryver, you will continue the cross-examination of the witness, Barsad. Yes, my lord. Now, John Barsad. Now what? Mr. Barsad, the crown has built its edifice of accusations upon your positive identification of the prisoner. The fellow on the Dovercoats was him. There. It was night. The stranger's face was sunk deep in his muffler? Yes. When the coat stopped, he vanished in the ink-black darkness? That's right. Mr. Barsad, would you admit the possibility that the face in the Dovercoats was someone who looked something like the prisoner? It was the prisoner, no mistake. Mr. Barsad, would you feel so positive if I showed you other faces resembling in a remarkable or less degree the prisoners? I doubt if there's another face in the whole of England. My lord, will you ask my good friend Mr. Cotton to stand up? Stand up, Mr. Cotton. Very well, my lord. My lord, I must ask that Mr. Cotton stand beside the prisoner. Make way. Make way. Thank you, Mr. Cotton. And now, John Barsad, please to fix your gaze on Mr. Cotton. You see anything remarkable? Well, if you ask me, I'd say the gentleman is at a spot too much at your port. Not too much, Mr. Barsad. But the day is yet young. Mr. Cotton, you have ridden on the Dovercoats at times? How many times I would not care to say. Mr. Cotton, if you would please take off your wig and gown. Oh, gladly. Beastly things, insufferably hot. There. Yes! You see, you are astonished. My lord, half rises from his seat. But wait, wait! Now, Sidney Cotton, if it be within your histronic powers, assume the prisoner's habitual grave and noble mean. Behold, a worm. And now, a butterfly. Aye, my lord! Aye! On his veritable counterpart. My lord, gentlemen, and you, John Barsad, let all eyes confirm the truth. So obvious. Gentlemen of the jury, it would seem the crown has built its case upon a cornerstone of quicksand. John Barsad, for all your vaunted patriotism, you remain what you've always been. A liar, criminal, paid perjurer, and spy. I rest. When the jury brought in its verdict of acquittal, Cotton led the still bewildered young man to the tavern where he saw to it that the best was placed on the table before the young man. True. Tell me, Mr. Darnay, now that you have eaten, do you feel that you belong to this terrestrial mortal scheme again? I do indeed. I'm still in the days, but I'm certain that I live. It must be an immense satisfaction. As for me, my desire is to forget that I belong to it, to the world, to life. Oh, come now, sir. Life has no good in it for me, except wine like this. So we are not much alike in that particular. Indeed, I begin to think we are not much alike in any particular, you and I. You seem at a loss as how to answer me. We'll propose a health, a toast, then. What health, what toast? It's on the tip of your tongue. I swear it's there, sir. Miss Manette there. I'm pleased to have your message when I gave it her. Was she? Not that she showed she was pleased, but I suppose she was. Oh. I wish to thank you for the kindness you've shown Miss Manette and me. Mr. Darnay, do you think I particularly like you? Really, Mr. Carton, I've not asked myself the question. Ask it now. Well, you have behaved as if you liked me, but I don't think you do. I begin to have a very good opinion of your understanding, sir. Oh, going. I prefer to part before there is ill blood on either side. A last word, Mr. Darnay. You think I'm drunk? I think you have been drinking, Mr. Carton. Think? You'll know I've been drinking. Since I must say so, I know it. Then you shall likewise know why. I am a disappointed drudge, sir. I care for no man on earth, and no man on earth cares for me. Much to be regretted. You might have used your talents better. Maybe so, Mr. Darnay. Maybe not. And don't let your sober face elate you. You don't know what you may come to. Good night. Arrived at his dingy room, this strange being took up a candle, walked uncertainly to a glass that hung against the wall, and surveyed himself minutely in it. Confound you, Carton. What a mess you've made of things. Change places with Darnay. Would her blue eyes have wept for you? He's all you might have been. She is all you might have had. Carton, let's have it out in plain words. You hate them for it. May I keep on with your sewing, Miss Manette? Then sit here by me at the table, Mr. Carton. Thank you. It's been so long since we've seen you. I've seen you. I've seen you. I've seen you. It's been so long since we've seen you. It's been good of you to tolerate me. I mean the way I've dropped in uninvited over the past year. Like a morose and moody specter staring glumly at the wall. Father says you talk quite brilliantly when you choose to talk. Really? Dr. Manette's health improved. Yes. He seems more himself again. And your health, Mr. Carton. The life I lead is not conducive to health. Forgive me for saying so. But isn't it a pity to lead that kind of life? God knows it's a shame. A shame. Then why not change it, Mr. Carton? Too late for that. Oh, by the way, Mr. Darny told me of his good fortune. You'll both be very happy. You deserve to be. God bless you. Thank you, Mr. Carton. Miss Manette. Yes? Yes, Mr. Carton? I find it difficult to tell you. Please say it, Mr. Carton. Miss Manette, I've wanted you to know that you've been the last dream of my soul. The sight of you in this home have stirred old shadows which I thought were dead. Old voices have come back again. You have inspired me with a determination to begin anew, to fight, to fight my way back to decency. And you can, Mr. Carton. I've always felt you could. You must. You resign yourself to death, Mr. Carton. Resign yourself to life for once. But you won't even try. So, having made you miserable, I'll go now. Goodbye. Miss Manette, remember this. While I still live, there is a man who'd give his life for you and give his life for anyone you love. Eleven years pass, then Charles Darnay returns to France to help a friend. Without telling his wife, Lucy, Charles foolishly plunges into the reign of terror of the French Revolution. The Paris mob recognizes him as the aristocrat, the Marquis Saint-Evrimon, his rightful title. He is tried and sentenced to the guillotine. Then, on the day before the execution, an odd meeting takes place at a wine shop by the Seine. He pulls the knots of blood-smeared revolutionaries and sits down at a small table. Sits opposite a man who wears the red cap of the Republicans. The man looks up suspiciously. He turns pale. Good evening, citizen Basade. It's not my name. It was your name, John Basade. It's not so loud. I'm known by a different name in this shop. These are dangerous times to have two names. These are dangerous times to serve two masters. I mean, you're a spy for the British government. At the same time, you're a spy for the new French Republic, the Paris mob. I mean, you spy for one against the other and collect at both ends. Someone has to do this fine. If these French Republicans, the mob, found out about your double dealings, it would be the guillotine for you, John Basade. Who are you? You know me. You look like everyone called Darnay. But he's tight in his cell. Think back. 12 years. To a trial at the old Bailey. A trial at the old... Carton. Yes, Carton. How'd you find me? I've been watching the prison where they have Darnay. You go in and out at will. I've picked up other scraps of information. Is such is. Your old friend Roger Kly is turnkey at the prison. Kly's dead. I saw him buried. We found only rocks in his coffin. Do I seem to hold the winning cards, John Basade? What do you want? I may wish to talk to Darnay in his cell. If you think you can help him to escape your mad, there's no escape. His head will roll tomorrow afternoon at 2 o'clock. There's nothing to prevent it. Escape? Well, I didn't say that. I said that I may wish to talk to him. Can you arrange it? I would be safer for you to say yes. Are you threatening me? No, I didn't say so. But I am. Very well. I'll get you in to see this evermore, Darnay, but don't wait too long. You know the Paris branch of Telsen's bank? Yes. Old Jarvis Loring is winding up the bank's affairs. He's living in a rear room at the bank. There's a rear door. Knock four times at 10 o'clock. I'll be there. Yes, I'm sure you will, John Bassard. So I live here at the bank. It's safer. You'll find the brandy on that table, Mr. Carton. Mr. Lorry, I see you do remember me. Poor Charles. Poor Lucy. You've been in Paris for some time. Lucy hasn't mentioned seeing you. Mrs. Darnay hasn't seen me. I don't mean the truchelle. What's this you said? You can arrange to have a final talk with Charles. That won't save him. Here are my passport and credentials. You may need them, sir. Aye, what for? I beg of you not to ask for explanations, but follow these directions to the letter. What are they? Have a coach and horses in the courtyard on the stroke of midnight. Have Lucy Darnay in that coach and her father, her child, be in the coach herself. And the instant I get into the coach, drive off. Drive for Calais. Then ship to England. Safety. The instant my place in the coach is filled, drive off. But Carton, in the name of heaven... See, sake, for those she loves. Forget it is the wretch named Sydney Carton who requests this, sir. But do it for their sakes. Your promise, sir. Oh, this sounds like utter madness. Your solemn promise. Oh, very well, very well. I promise. Thank you, sir. Well, now, shall we sit and talk a moment until the villain Barsad knocks? Sit by your bottle. I'll sit here. Your, sir, is a long life to look back upon. I'll soon be eighty. Useful all your life. Many people will miss you when you go, sir. No, no, I'm a grumpy old bachelor. There's nobody who will weep for me. Wouldn't she weep for you? Lucy? Yes, thank God, I think she would. That didn't mean quite what I said. It is a thing to thank God for. Surely, surely. I have won no human creature's love. No respect. Tell me, sir, does your childhood seem far off? Twenty years ago it did. But now, now as I draw closer and closer to the end, my memories seem to travel nearer and nearer to the beginning. All faces coming back. Perhaps your pretty mothers. A host of childhood memories. Yes. And you find comfort in them. Yes, I know the feeling. You were much too young to know such feelings. The end of life is still a far away horizon for you. Possibly, possibly. Such memories used to fill me with a terrible remorse. But of late, I too find much comfort in them. Perhaps it is that... Or sad. I'll let you in. Good evening, Mr. Barsad. So good of you to remember our appointment. Yes, it is indeed. Well... I've seen Clare the way he has greased or gets you into the prison if you want it. I want it. Let's hurry then. Mr. Lorry. Yes, Carton? I've decided to call upon Mr. Darny at the prison. Good luck. Another drink before you go. No. No, thank you, Mr. Lorry. It is even likely I shall never have another drink. I think I understand you, Mr. Carton. In that case, you will understand about the coach. Yes. A place in the coach will be reserved for you. I will pray the place be filled. Going work fast, I'll wait outside. Carton. Darny, do as I say. No questions. Take off your coat and put on mine. Why? Shake out your hair, like mine. Hurry, hurry, man. No, they'll only kill you too. No, Carton, I won't let... What's that? This? That vape with the... All right. Lie down. No, Carton. No, I won't let you... The drug will give you a sound sleep, my friend. God willing, you'll wake up in England. Basar. Yes. Are you ready? You carry him, like you carried me in. Kill them, the Englishman Carton has fainted with grief for his doomed friend. And then to the bank, to Jarvis Lorry's. In the black prison of the Conciergerie, the doomed of the day had been gathered in a large room to await the death carts. As Sydney Carton stood by the wall in the dim corner, a man stopped and passing to embrace him. It thrilled him with a great dread of discovery, but the man went on. A moment later, a young woman with a slight girlish form and widely-opened patient eyes came over to him. Citizen Evermore. You don't remember me? Oh, yes, yes, we meet again. I'm the seamstress who was with you at the other prison. And of course, of course. If we ride together, will you let me hold your hand? Oh, yes, child. I pray that we may ride together. I'm not afraid. Just lonely. The death carts rumble. Six tumbles carry the day's red wine to Madame Lagiotine. They plow a crooked furrow among the mob that lines the streets. Ridges of faces are thrown to this side and to that. Executioners work swiftly. As a head drops in the basket, it is held aloft and the mob screams out to count. The second death cart empties and rolls on. The third comes up and stops. Discharges those to die. Little sister, shall I carry you? I am strong with your strength. Just to climb the steps. Queen is swift and merciful. Brave, generous friend. A sweet, gentle child. We too so strangely met up on the dark highway. Now going home together to our rest. My turn is next. Kiss me. I'm the resurrection and the life said the Lord. He who believes in me, even if he dies shall live. The far, far better thing I do than I have ever done. It is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known. This is Robert Ryan again. Do you know what it takes to make a house a home? Well, windows, doors and rooms. But something else too. There must be happiness. And happiness is something that cannot be built with saw and hammer and nails. I'll tell you a way to bring happiness to your home. Invite God in. Invite him in through prayer. Daily family prayer. If God is in your home, there's peace there too. And happiness and love and unity. Discover for yourselves what millions of others have learned. The family that prays together stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood Family Theater has brought to Hans Conrad as Sidney Carton in A Tale of Two Cities with Robert Ryan as host and narrator. Others in our cast were William Conrad, Ken Peters, Willard Waterman, Hi-Averback, Francis X. Bushman, J. Novello, Virginia Gregg, and Barbara Whiting. Charles Dickens' great classic was adapted by Dick Creedon with music composed and conducted by Henry Mancini 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 a need for this type of program, by the mutual network which has responded to this need, and by the hundreds of stars of stage, screen, and radio who have so unselfishly given of their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage. To them and to you, our humble thanks. This is Gene Baker inviting you to join us next week when your Family Theater will present Fred Allen and Dennis Day in William the Terrified. Join us, won't you? All adventure and romance listened to the Count of Monte Cristo heard on most of these stations on Tuesday evenings. Family Theater is released in Canada through the facilities of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation and is broadcast to our troops overseas by the Armed Forces Radio Service, to the world's largest network, the Mutual Broadcasting System.