Pictures and the Picturegoer (October 1915 - March 1916)

PICTURES AND THE PICTUREGOSR 108 Week ending Nov. 6. 1915 Jesse L. Lasky production featuring Blanche Sweet. Controlled by J. D. "Walker's "World's Films, ttd. Adapted from the Film by PATRICK GLYNN, PARIS in 189S was not the Paris of 1915. It was then the most brilliant city in Europe, and its nightlife attracted the pleasure-seekers of the world to its fascinating glare. In this intoxicating and poisonous atmosphere reigned Cora May, styled by her admirers -i The Queen of Pleasure." The young woman, who held the secrets of Cabinets, and knew the private life of the owners of some of the greatest names in France, looked the typical star of the Parisian '_; halfworld/' Witty, handsome, loving luxury, she pursued her course like a brilliant comet. She had ruined dozens of rich men. and spent their fortunes with all the assurance of the owner of a private purse. Many said she was heartless also, but if t'.iis was true it did not extend to at least one person whose identity will be revealed later. On this night Cora held high revels in her salmi. A French Comte had just paid her the typical Gallic compliment of drinking champagne from her jewelled slipper, and received a playful slap in the face for his effrontery. Then, to the surprise other guests, she became suddenly silent. They soon learned the reason "or her change of countenance, for a ti'T.e child of three toddled down the staircase in her nightdress, and with her eyes half-closed with sleep. On seeing Cora May the child extended her arms with a wistful gesture, which made tin' woman rush forward and clasp her in her arms. •• You should be in bed, Diane,'' whispered Cora tenderly. The guests crowded round her, curiosity in their "!!;i. ha. Cora!" interrupted an admirer with muck amazement, " a child, eh ! What a prel ly youngster ! " " I ! , Gad, ( !ora." suggested 1 he ( !omte, gallantly, -lie has the devil in her eyes like j mi." Cora drew herself up with strange dignity. Hie fell disgusted with her ■nt company. "Some friends of mother's, my little Diane," she murmured ii tli' 1 unconsciously excusing herself. " Now come hack to bed." She took' the child in her arms and ascended the staircase, without looking at her guests, who shrugged their shoulders and smiled. She put the child back into bed. and for several moments watched Diane's eyes gradually closing in sleep. Cora mused with a curious look on her face. She was thinking what she would do with this child of hers. Diane was coming to an age when she would begin to " notice things," and Cora dreaded the example of her own life on Diane. " I shall put her in a convent," murmured Cora at last, " I love her so much that I must give her up altogether. She must never know about me and my career. The nuns will look after her well, and I will pay for her board and education. It is the only thing to do."' She bent over and kissed the child tenderly. " Oh, my little Diane, your eyes must never look like mine." # # ■» m Fourteen years later some, visitors arrived at the Convent de Saere Coeur. They were the parents of Nanette, a " chum " of Diane's, and they came to seek the nuns' permission to allow their child to spend a holiday with them at the seaside. Nanette saw an opportunity of bringing Diane with her. and after some demur Diane was allowed to accompany Nanette and her parents to the seaside. Diane had justified the promise of her infancy and had developed into a charming young lady of seventeen, whose knowledge of the world was limited to the peaceful, pure atmosphere of the convent. Bui the ambitions of youih were beginning to stir in her brain. She had no relations, she had been told that her father was dead, and that her mother was unfit to be with her. This was to be her first real experience of the outside world, and her delight was unbounded. I journej to Narbonne kept her in a continual state of happy excitement, and that night when looking out from her window on the tossing waves, which shone with a faint phosphorescent light, she expressed her i'< ■clings in words to Nanette. "1 want to know life, fi dom the world." She could not sleep, and the call of the sea attracted her. The night was balmy, and, obeying an impulse, Diane crept out and walked" along the sands She had to pass the chateau of a French nobleman of about thirty years of who at this moment was looking ] sively from his window on the same entrancing scene that attracted Diane. He saw the girl's stealthy moveme and watched her with idle interest when Diane began to race along the sands. He could see the girl was youug and lissome, and his interest grew. ** What has brought her cut at this time all alone r "' he mused. "What a wild creature she is ! " He waited till she had to repass front of his window, and caught the light of the moon reflected on her countenance. A thrill of amazement through him. He drew nearer to the window, and followed the retreat form of the girl with renewed u "Devil's eyes, and the face of a saint—* which shall I believe ? " he murmured. He laughed. " I must make her acquaintance. Perhaps I shall see her passing again to-morrow night."' The young man was not disappointed. About the same time the girl passed hia window, and went for her nocturnal walk along the sands. He Crept our, and seeing that the girl was coming in a straight line, which would nee ss Iter passing him. he leaned leisui against a rock. As she approached he raised his hat politely. Thegirlswen 1 like a young colt. "Forgive me," said the ini politely, "'I have no right to speak to yon. but " his gesture of admiral was mere eloquent than words. "' L u me pass, rao:. :is!y. "Certainly, mademoiselle." 1 i the other, with just a tinge of path .' 1 his tone. " but may I not at safely to your d< or? " Diane kn w that she was not more than a few minutes' walk from her friends' 1 deuce, and a spice of interest temj her to look mote closel] al the man. B( ing feminiue, she declined to '• "i es " but the other instinctively ki that hi company would not hereonand he walked beside her, and fell ion.