Now from Hollywood, romance.
Romance transcribed stories of love and adventure, of comedy and crisis, of conflict and human emotion.
Today, a story based on an ancient gypsy proverb.
An unmarried man is an insult to women.
Should he also be possessed of youth, vigor and fortune, his crime is the greater.
Starring Terence Kilburn, Jerry Gaylor and Ben Wright in Irene Winston's story, The Gypsy.
The Gypsy.
My father, Sir Roderick Halsey, was only eighteen when I was born.
So we more or less grew up together.
At thirty-eight, he was typical of most sophisticates in that he fancied himself a simple man.
Until he met the girl.
She was the essence of simplicity.
He took one look at her and forthwith dispatched a letter to my London quarters.
Have young girl on my hands and need help.
Come home at once, father.
Have another, father.
Jeff, you have no idea how nerve-racking it is to step out of bed in the morning
and literally trip over a young girl who apparently spent the night asleep on the floor.
Really?
I swear to you that I never set eyes on her before.
Well, that is, I did see her once but I didn't really look at her.
I mean, she's a gypsy. She doesn't even speak English.
Will you stop being smug and superior and I'll show you. Come along.
There, there, see for yourself. Now, is she or is she not a gypsy?
Your taste is impeccable as always. Even in gypsies.
But that costume. Oh, of course, naturally.
And my old britches and shirts. You mistook her for me.
Your eyes are just as bad as your lies, father.
She was incredibly filthy so I had a bath prepared for her and I had her clothes burned.
She had to wear something.
Hello. Hello. And hello.
I told you she doesn't speak English. Will you stop that?
Stop what? Stop being so charming.
It all started when father discovered a gypsy caravan camping in the lower meadow
and he rode out to see them. It was quite eerie.
About a hundred of them sitting around in a circle,
all acting as if he were invisible or they were deaf.
They were all watching a dirty old crone who stood in their midst
dipping a stone mug into a pail of water.
Was she alone? No, there was a rather youngish man
and the girl you just saw was standing right next to her.
I see. First your gypsy girl drank from the stone mug
and then she gave it to the young man, right?
Well, she tried to but I was so angered by this time
that I knocked it out of his hands and dashed it to the ground.
There was a fight. Who won? I did, naturally.
Wait a minute. I thought you came down from London only after you received my letter.
How do you know all this? Later, sir, if you don't mind.
Now, after the fight, did you drink any of the water?
Well, there was nothing wrong with it. It was perfectly good well water.
My heartiest congratulations. Huh?
On your marriage. What?
First you beat the other man. Then you publicly drank the water.
It's all terribly symbolic.
One more thing. When you returned home, did you think you'd lost any money?
How much was it? Well, it was a few shillings is all I had.
Well, there's no doubt of it now, sir. You've even paid the price for the bride.
A few shillings, eh?
Well, at any rate, you've got a bargain. She's a beauty.
To further complicate his life, my father had also sent an urgent message
for help to his great and good friend, Lady Angela,
a capable woman whom over the years I had been forced to call Aunt Angela
as a concession to father's respectability,
an appellation I heartily despised because she was not a blood relative.
What a dreadful experience for you, Roderick.
There's really no cause for concern.
Well, how can you be so calm?
This marriage has no legal standing whatsoever.
You can simply pack her off back to her people.
But they've gone. They've completely disappeared.
Post a large reward for any knowledge of their whereabouts.
Money sometimes improves the eyesight of the peasants.
I've already done that. It's what to do about her in the meantime that worries me.
I can't just throw her out. She's too young.
I noticed that.
And besides, she's your wife. Yes.
And my new mother. Really, Geoff.
Will you stop that nonsense, Geoff?
Don't worry, my darling. I'll be with you just as long as she is.
I'll see if I can make myself understood by your gypsy.
Father... Unless you have a practical suggestion, please, please be quiet.
Well, I'll take one of them off your hands.
Ah!
It's all right, Rang. Try to calm yourself.
What happened?
I was trying to make a change into a dress and she attacked me.
Bravo! Bravo!
She was trying to choke me with corsets.
As if I need these things.
You shameless girl, if you must.
In front of my own husband. Why?
Why didn't you let me know that you spoke English?
I speak nine other languages as well.
Please answer my question.
I was bringing to you, my husband, the two greatest gifts a woman can bring.
Submission and silence.
Will you stop it, Geoff? What is your name?
The same as yours. Isn't that the English custom?
Oh, no. He means, what was your name?
Kira Bothwell.
Bothwell? What writer's a gypsy is such an old English name?
My people roamed the roads of England long before your people left their trees.
I'll have you know, my family came...
Never mind that now, please.
Just exactly, what are you doing in my house?
Waiting to truly become your wife.
You fought for me well. You publicly drank of the water.
So, here I am.
You make it sound very simple.
Oh, it will not be easy.
I feel a natural revulsion for a Giorgio.
A what?
A Giorgio. The Romany word for foreigner.
Oh.
But I'm resigned.
I will overcome my distaste for you and I will try to make you a good wife.
I bow to my fate.
You don't have to trouble yourself on my account.
I mean, it's perfectly all right.
It is written in the tarot.
Fortune telling cards.
What superstitious rot.
My dear girl, gypsy or not, stop living in the dark ages.
This is England 1746.
Well, Kira, how about telling my fortune?
I am your fortune.
Oh, I thought you were mine.
We should make up your mind.
There are two kinds of fortune.
Good and bad.
No.
What? What?
Who is it?
Who is here?
Your wife.
Oh, no.
Now, now, now, see here.
Put your arms around me, please.
Look here.
I am trying desperately to maintain a friendly, fatherly interest in you.
But you must go back to your own room for your own protection.
But there is nothing personal in my holding you close like this.
Or kissing you like this.
I don't particularly want you.
But I cannot fight against my own destiny.
It's becoming increasingly difficult for me, too.
You are very beautiful, you know.
Thank you.
Did you like to kiss me?
Very much.
Good.
Then claiming me for your wife won't be so bad after all.
Now, now, really, if you go back to your room immediately,
I absolutely refuse to be taken like medicine.
Every time I look for your father, he is in the stable with a black stallion.
Why doesn't he look like me like that?
That horse is the last thing you ought to be jealous of.
The father is just about ready to have him destroyed.
He's quite mad.
He certainly is.
No, I mean the horse.
Oh, I mean your father.
He knows nothing about either horses or women.
Jeff, look at me.
Tell me the truth.
Is your father ill?
I suppose he must seem that way to you.
Can there be any other reason why he runs when I come near him?
You see, he feels a sort of paternal responsibility to you because you're so young.
I'm as old as you.
And that is already older than he will ever be.
I think your beauty frightens him a little too.
Does he want an old and ugly wife?
I will never understand his English.
No, you see, he doesn't want any wife.
My mother died when I was born.
And well, he never quite got over it.
Jeff told me you still mourn for his mother.
I, I loved her very much.
What do you remember most about her?
How do you see her?
What did she like to do?
I always see her arranging flowers.
She was rather like a flower, a bud, really.
She was so young when she died.
Do you like flowers too?
Very much.
Ring for the servants.
Have them remove every flower from this house immediately.
And order them never to bring another one into this house.
Why?
Mourn for your wife like a gypsy.
Live without flowers in her memory.
But don't try to live without love.
I do hope you won't mind, Roderick.
I've been talking with Cook and planning some of the menus.
I thought dinner tasted exceptionally fine this evening.
How very kind of you.
Aunt Angela selected the wine too, didn't you?
Yes. Did you like it?
Perfect. I have no idea you were so accomplished, my dear.
I always thought of you as merely decorative.
Thank you.
You find that amusing, Kira?
No. Clever.
Next to me you are not decorative.
So you must be something else as well.
I'm not a woman.
Halsey Castle had certainly changed from a bachelor establishment.
Lady Angela was there to chaperone Kira.
And at my suggestion, a father sent for his cousin Estelle to chaperone Lady Angela.
When a woman reaches her 80th birthday,
anyone who chooses to create a scandal either finds himself labelled as insane.
Thank you for the implied compliment.
So long as I'm here, your reputation and Angela's will be safe.
Of that you can be certain.
Angela, you have the most beautiful manners.
You conceal your hatred of my presence in this house admirably.
Thank you.
It is quite an effort too.
I know. If only Roderick, poor dear, would react to your overtures and propose.
Since you're being so very candid, let me assure you I've thought of everything to get rid of you.
Short of murder.
Have you thought of bribing me?
I'm dreadfully poor, you know, and I don't exactly enjoy spending my declining years as a paid family chaperone.
Oh, Angela, you do know how to soothe a headache. Your hands are so cool, beautiful.
Keep still now. I'll rub your neck.
Jeff wants to see you in the stable.
Oh, something about the black stallion I'll warrant. I'll have to do something about him.
I'll be back directly, Angela.
Whether you like it or not, remember he is my husband.
I'll remember that only after he does, not before.
Let go of my arm before I forget myself.
That would be impossible.
There. Don't try to massage his poor, poor headache away anymore today.
Are you warning me?
No, I don't have to. You can't move your arm. Try to move it.
I can't.
What?
Oh, I can't move it. You put a spell on me. My arm's paralyzed.
Anytime you find it difficult to keep your hands off my husband, I will be glad to help you.
We'll return to romance in just a moment.
Hello, I'm Bob Trout.
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Be with us for both conventions. Thank you. This is Bob Trout speaking.
And now for the second act of romance.
News of Keira spread around the countryside and naturally we had many visitors, including Bertie.
Or if I must be formal, the Earl of Hampshire.
Bertie is the sort most foreigners call typically British.
But as a matter of fact, most Englishmen can't understand him either.
Thought to myself, I'll see the gypsy wretch with me own eyes.
Go to Bertie and try speaking a little slower.
Oh, of course.
Father, oh, I'm sorry to interrupt.
Jeff.
Hello, sir. Father, did you shoot that Black Stallion?
No, I asked one of the stable boys to do it.
Well, he's not in his stall and Angela thought she saw Keira right out on him.
Good Lord, Jeff, he's a killer.
Every man who could joined the search.
We rode for hours, didn't see a trace of either the horse or Keira until...
There he is in the lower meadow.
Couldn't get close enough to shoot the beast hook off again.
Never mind him. Keep looking for Keira.
Right.
Keira! Keira!
You see anything, Jeff?
No. Keira!
Keep looking. Keira!
Keira!
I... I... I found her.
Keira.
Keira, are you all right?
Now lie still. Don't try to move till I see if any bones are broken.
Take your hands off me.
I'm your father's wife. Show respect.
Ah, how badly she has.
Keira, oh, you don't know what I've been through.
I thought you'd been killed, trampled to death.
I almost lost my mind.
Good.
What?
You're getting used to me and that's good.
Oh, I could shake you.
You're my husband. You could beat me.
Why don't you?
Look out there! The beast is coming back!
Shoot as fast as you can, Bertie.
No, leave him alone.
He's insane, Keira. You're lucky you weren't killed when he threw you.
Oh, the horse doesn't live that can throw me.
We had a lovely ride until I got sleepy and laid down here to take a nap.
Leave that horse alone!
Don't you dare to shoot!
No!
I'm sorry. I had to stop you.
Frederick, give me the horse, please.
But he's dangerous.
Not to me.
Come here, Magic.
Come here, boy.
Oh, you would name him Magic.
Come here, Magic.
Come to Keira and be loved.
See, Rodney?
The horse is saner than you are.
I gained a strange respect for Father as I watched him struggle,
even though I couldn't for the life of me understand why he tried so hard.
He attempted to explain.
I have to maintain my own integrity as a logical man.
I don't believe in foretelling the future or the madness of the moon
or spells and curses or any of that superstitious rot.
And furthermore, I don't believe I feel very well.
Keira, I always thought that gypsies could make love, Persians.
They can?
Well, why don't you fix one for Father?
I'll manage to put it in his morning tea.
I don't want to force him to love me, not unless I have to.
Not the sporting thing to do, is that it?
Yes.
How very English you've become.
Ah, there you are, Jeff. Good evening, Keira.
Are you ready for dinner, I believe?
Jeff Doocy was keeping Angela and Cousin Estelle.
Oh, never mind. Here they are.
Oh, you look lovely, Angela.
Thank you.
Cousin Estelle, how was your nap?
I'd much prefer it if you said I was lovely
and asked Angela how she slept.
But I slept well and now I'm hungry.
Well, shall we go in?
Keira, aren't you joining us?
I will not eat this week.
Did you say this week?
The full moon is almost here.
I think to stop disaster from joining our lives,
I must do something.
Oh, this has been a most pleasant day.
Let's not spoil it now.
I will talk of the supernatural or foretelling the future.
For seven days and seven nights, I will not eat.
Why do you only make yourself ill?
I will gather herbs and roots and leaves and dry them.
There's a lovely joint of mutton this evening.
Then I will press them into a thin little cake
to keep next to my heart,
until what is in my heart goes into the cake.
This makes the magic.
Is that all?
No, Angela.
In the dark of the night,
I will walk backwards towards water
with my eyes closed tightly.
You could break your neck that way.
You be quiet, Roderick.
Go on, Keira.
I will eat the cake and then I will turn and face the water.
And when I open my eyes,
I shall gaze upon the face of my own true love
reflected in the water.
How very romantic.
Well, what happens if you don't see any face at all?
Then I will die.
What?
I won't want to live without love.
And now, now, oh ancient ones,
let me gaze upon the face of my own true love.
Oh.
Are you all right, Keira?
It is your face I see in the water.
Well, naturally I looked over your shoulder
to see what you were doing.
Didn't you hear me following you?
No.
What are you crying about?
Because you're supposed to love me.
There is no way out now.
What will be will be.
I made a big, fasting hope,
but now there is no doubt
that our old cards made the right prediction after all.
I keep thinking about this dreadful curse of the future,
but I mean, what is supposed to happen?
It is clearly written,
from the father to the son,
and blood will be shed.
Your blood, Jeff.
You will have to fight your father for me and win.
Oh, in other words, whoever wins the fight, wins you.
It is written.
Father, I have a rather odd request to make of you.
Would you mind terribly striking me hard enough
to draw some blood?
I shan't have to hit you back
because it's only my blood that counts.
You see, you can merely pretend to knock me unconscious.
Oh, Keira's gloomy little prediction.
From the father to the son, and blood will be shed.
Exactly.
But if you cooperate with me, we can stage a fight
like actors do, and neither of us will be really hurt.
And if you don't, I'll have to fight you.
I'll have to fight you.
Like actors do, and neither of us will be really hurt.
It's all in the interest of love.
I am sick to death of that word, love.
There isn't one person around this entire house
that even knows the meaning of the word.
You mean that you want to marry Keira?
Well, yes, of course.
I mean, I don't intend anything so binding
as an English wedding,
but I won't mind a marriage gypsy style.
Well, I suppose I shouldn't be shocked.
It's probably my fault for not having set you a better example.
Oh, come on, aren't you being rather proper all of a sudden?
Go along with the times, Father.
Remember, this is England in 1746.
Well, I wasn't aware that decency and morality
were so out of mode.
Oh, come now. She's only a gypsy.
As long as Keira remains under my roof,
she's entitled to my protection.
I really think under the circumstances
that you'd be more comfortable in your London quarters.
Do you think seriously that you can stop me
from doing anything I want to do?
I intend to, one way or the other.
Oh, really?
I see, Jeff.
Jeff, Jeff, I am sorry.
I don't know what got into me.
Are you all right?
Oh, Father, how can you be so stupid?
How many times will you have to knock me down
before you realize that you are in love with Keira?
I refuse to be in love with her.
I refuse to believe in magic or in love potions
or any of that rot.
I am first and foremost a logical man.
You're also a miserable man.
Well, naturally, but I have every reason to be.
Roderick, suppose I prove to you
you have just as much reason to be happy.
Can there be anything in the world
more logical than for a man to fight for the woman he loves,
even an Englishman?
Keira.
Oh, Keira.
BAND PLAYS
Romance is produced and directed by Anthony Ellis.
Today's story was written by Irene Winston.
Stared in the Gypsy were Terence Kilburn,
Jerry Gaylor, and Ben Wright.
Others in the cast were Norma Varden, Peggy Webber,
and Stan Jones.
Musical supervision by Carl Fortina.
This is Dan Cuberley inviting you to hear
Romance transcribed next week at this same time.
BAND PLAYS
With Eddie Collins conducting the band,
Jim Lowe is your host,
and with an exciting array of guest stars,
don't miss Upbeat Saturday Night
when it's on the air again over most of these same stations tonight.
Stay tuned for Gunsmoke,
which follows immediately over most of these same stations.
BAND PLAYS