Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1911)

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AN AMERICAN COUNT By Marie A. Rasft (From the Scenario of Arthur D. Hotaling) CLAEA BLAKEMAN was seated in her favorite nook in the bay window which overlooked the gardens of her father's splendid estate, a novel in her lap, and a half-empty box of chocolates on the table beside her. She gazed dreamily at the distant hills and the spires of the little city in the valley which glistened in the sunlight. She had tired of the novel, tired of the chocolates, and now she was tiring of the scenery, when a maid entered and handed her a letter. "Ah!" she exclaimed, "it is from Paris; must be from Marguerite; how good of her to write so soon !" She quickly broke the seal and eagerly read : "You'll never guess what I've got for you — something you have wanted all your life, a title. Don't marry Ralph Dexmore, for I've got you a Count. Just think of it, dear, a real, live Count ! He's perfectly splendid, with the dearest, black mustache and beard, and twinkling eyes that move all around every way, so quickly one can never guess what he is thinking about. The photograph I send natters him a little, but Paris photographers are all artists and therefore deceptive. With the exception of the Baron, the Count is really the most interesting man with a title I've met, and I'm going to send him to you for a Christmas present. Isn't that lovely? He's perfectly daft about you ; asked so many questions the very first time he saw vour picture— the one you had taken in fancy costume for the bazaar. He wanted to know if you were a danseuse, and if you were marriageable? Of course I told him you were a charming dancer — don't be frightened, dear, you needn't dance for him. Tell him you've sprained your ankle recently. I told him your father had barrels of money, but not till I was sure he loved you, and I said that you wouldn't look at American men because they have no gallantry and didn't know enough to give a lady a seat in a street car. He just rolled his lovely eyes*, clasped his hands and exclaimed, cMon Dieu ! That so beautiful a Mademoiselle should suffer such indignity. ' Wasn't that beautiful ? Just imagine, if you can, Ealph Dexmore saying any such thing as that ! "And now he's coming over — to see you. You may expect him to follow this letter closely. Be sure to have Ralph out of the way before the Count de Barbes (that's his name) arrives and don't forget to time your arrival here so as to see me married to the Baron. He hasn't asked me yet, but anyone can see that he's desperately in love. I can imagine your excitement when you get this letter. Do write at once to your devoted Marguerite." "Oh, the dear, sweet thing !" exclaimed Clara Blakeman, pressing the letter and the photograph to her heart. "I always said Marguerite was the most thoughtful girl in the world. I knew she would never be happy to be a Baroness unless I had a title, too." "Some flowers, Miss Clara, from Mr. Dexmore." The maid's announcement interrupted the train of Clara's thoughts. She, the promised wife of Ralph Dexmore, planning to be a Countess ! And the 105