Screenland (May-Oct 1939)

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UJfllTKD ..AND I USED TO BE SUCH A SAUSAGE IN THIS DRESS v ^ Look at the Fat I've Lost! Now you can slim down your face and figure without strict dieting or backbreaking exercises. Just eat sensibly and take 4 Marmola Tablets a day, according to the directions. Marmola Tablets have been sold to the public for more than thirty years. More than twenty million boxes have been distributed during that period. Marmola is not intended as a cure-all for all ailments. This advertisement is intended only for fat persons who are normal and healthy otherwise and whose fatness is caused by a reduction in the secretion from the thyroid gland (hypo-thyroidism) with accompanying subnormal metabolic rates. No other representation is made as to this treatment except under these conditions and according to the dosage as recommended. We do not make any diagnosis as that is the function of your physician, who must be consulted for that purpose. The formula is included in every package. Start with Marmola today and win the slender lovely figure that is rightfully yours. The Romantic Life of Annabella c children. My parents are not what you call 'modern' people. They are gentlefolk, my parents, with gentle ideas and gallant old ideals, their feet still walk the old pathways. . . . But anyway, I think that is why I like so much to be in the films now. / can still make-believe! I like the make-believe much better than the real. Still I am not' always sure where the one leaves off and the other begins. When I do know, I am a little sad. "I had a won-der-ful childhood, won-derful ! It was a happiness like heaven, my childhood, with laughters all the day as light as feathers floating. There were so many things . . . my father was head of the Boy Scouts in France. Sometimes he took the boys on camping trips and sometimes, when my brothers could not go with him, he took me with him. So that I was a little bit of a sport, liking boy-things, wild like a boy, untamed. When I was with my father, I was like that. But when I was with my mother, I tried to be a little lady." It was this young divergence, I am sure, which today makes Annabella sometimes like a boy, untamed ; sometimes like "a little lady." That split in her so-very-young personality is responsible, I'm sure, for the happy hoyden who curtsies, so to speak, with the quaint grace of the stately minuet. So that Annabella always runs, never walks. She runs across a room with quick strides, with little leaps and bounds. She comes to rest and stays still, with quiet grace and spirited dignity. "Well, then, sometimes in the garden, we were in a mood to play with dolls, Claude and I," Annabefla relates. "Again, we were in the river, we were sea-nymphs. I learned to swim there the same time I learned to walk. When I am now in the water, I am in my element. We played to be Indians. We had a little hut and we were pirates ... we slept in that garden, under a canopy of little white clouds. . . . "My father was the director of a newspaper for boys, Le Journal des Voyages. I would always read those papers. I would read the stories about Africa and India, jungles and fjords. And they gave me my taste for wanting to see the world. Sometimes we would place a ladder against the wall and we would look down into other gardens. I would think, then, of all the gardens of the world, how some of them are jungles and some of them are the sea, and I would think that I must play in all the gardens of the world one day, yes, all of them !" Annabella relates how that small Zette was very, specially proud of two things : she was as proud as a small Punch because she was born, not at home, in the usual way, at all — no, she was born, unexpectedly, during a visit her mother made to Paris. So that she would boast, inflating her small chest, 'I was born during a visit of my mother to Paris !' She was proud, too, because she was born on the 14th of July, Bastille Day, a date corresponding in the historical significance of France to our own Independence Day, July 4th. And there is that about Annabella which is as independent as the date of her birth; an independence which was, soon now, to take her out of the safe, sunny garden, into places where there were no gardens at all and, certainly, no happiness. There came the day when Maman and Pere Charpentier decided that now the children must come out of the garden, must go to school. With a pain which was like their childish fingers squeezing her heart, Mama watched them bicycling off to the little neighboring school-house, Annabella in the lead, dreadfully excited, dreadfully exultant. She knew, the mother, oh, well she ontinued from page 33 knew, that they were going much farth; away than the little school-house. Zett didn't like school. For in school realk impinged its unlikely countenance into fain land. There were mathematics and the co jugating of Latin verbs; sentences to , parsed until words were no longer brigh soap-bubble things but hard little pellet: put down, and measurable. In literature, i history and geography, Zette Charpentk was "excellent." For in these subjects sh could still "float off" — in the other subject she was "very, very bad." And in school, too, the formless desir for a life-time of make-believe took shap and form, had a name, became a possibl attainable thing. For— "all the girls i school," says Annabella, "said how the wanted to be in the films. All the time the talked about that and nothing else. Nov Lucy was gone for Claude and me. Nov Mary Pickford took her place, Mae Mui ray, Norma Talmadge. They were name without bodies, too, you see, realer thai the flesh and blood people we knew. The talked all the time how they would be fill stars, those girls in school. But / did nc speak. I was afraid to speak. I had learnei that only when you say in words, 'there no fairy in that flower,' did it happen th^ — there was no fairy in that flozver. So thought that if I should speak out loud, will be a film star,' I would not be a fib star, she would not be there. "Every Sunday I was hoping that & would be taken to the cinema in Chantill; | I bought all the cinema magazines. I had hard time doing that. My mother did nc give us any pocket money because we weil all the time in the garden and in the garde there is no such thing as money. So, I sol some of my books to the girls in the schoi to obtain the magazines. I also bought scrap-book and cut out pictures of Mar i Pickford and Richard Barthelmess and tl ! others and pasted them in. Two pictures cut out little and put in my pocket. One.w; of Mae Murray, the other of Norma Ta! madge. One day in school, while I w; doing my physical culture exercises, tl locket fell from my blouse and opened ar there were revealed, of all things, the pi' tures of movie actresses! The professor | charge, he was corseted in the strict di cipline of the French schools and I kne what his horror would be — and then ll asked me, sepulchrally and with a kind < a guillotine edge to his voice : 'Who ai i these — er — ladies, Mademoiselle?' " 'They are my cousins, Monsieur.' I arj swered him. He was content. His suspicion I they rested. He had not been to the 'foil | of the cinema and so he did not recogni.1, its stars. Now we played always at makir i the movies. We labelled the hen-house tl ! laboratory ; the chicken coop we covert j with my mother's fine linen sheets ar called that the stage. We acted out tl | cinema plays. I was always playing tl heroine. My brother was the director, wea H ing my father's puttees, like we had set : , pictures of Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. He >\ brandish a megaphone and tell us what I do." In that garden, in more ways than on ji the soon-to-be career of Annabella was ta; | ing form. For her father had a hobby, to j The hobby of taking kodak pictures. Ai I always he was asking the children to po I for him — -"that posing and those piano le | sons!" groans Annabella, "they were tl j awful things ! If they had been the movii pictures — but to stop the games, not move, to be motionless and patient, that w hard !" But it was, none the less, this bobby her father's which gave the child her fir ■! opportunity to be "in the picture." For Pa j 90 SCREENLAND