Marguerite Gautier, a poor but beautiful country girl, who, a few years before she became the rage in Paris, did not know how to write her own name, first met Armand Duval at the theater. This is the opening scene of this wonderfully beautiful and interesting film d'art. Marguerite in her box, beautiful as a dream, and Armand standing looking at her transfixed with admiration. After obtaining an introduction to his divinity. Armand becomes a constant visitor at her home. One night, at a little dinner given by Marguerite to her friend, Prudence Duvernoy, a well-known milliner, and at which were present her devoted admirer. Armand and one or two other congenial spirits, Marguerite was taken with a desperate spell of coughing. Symptoms of the dread disease she had inherited from her beautiful mother bad already made their appearance. Her faithful maids, rushing to the aid of their mistress, carried her to a couch in a nearby room, where Armand follows and imprints a kiss on the girl's hand, receiving as a reward a smile and one of her favorite flowers, a camellia. This was the first sign that Marguerite, the much-sought-after beauty, gave that she was beginning to care for the poorest, but handsomest, of her many lovers. Up to the time of Marguerite's meeting with Armand, the rich and influential Duke de Linieres had been her devoted admirer. She had met the duke at a health resort, where the latter had come with his daughter, who suffered from lung trouble as did Marguerite. The duke's daughter died just before Marguerite's arrival, and when he met the latter in the corridor of the hotel, she reminded him so forcibly of his child, that he took a great fancy to her, and hated to have her out of his sight. Although Armand knew of this friendship between the rich nobleman and the girl, he did not despair of supplanting the former in Marguerite's affections. He succeeded in this, and at Marguerite's own suggestion, for she had now become very much attached to Armand. They left Paris for the country, where we see them rowing on the river or strolling hand-in-hand, happy as two children. Marguerite describes these days in her diary, which Armand permitted Dumas to read, as the happiest days of her life. But, like all happy days, they were of short duration. One afternoon, the greater part of which Armand and Marguerite had spent together on the river, we see the girl jumping out of the boat which her lover takes further up to moor. As she walks slowly along she is stopped by one of her maids who hands her a letter, which she opens with fear at her heart and almost swoons away when she reads a message from Armand's father, begging her to discontinue her friendship with his son, not only for the boy's sake but for that of his sister who is soon to marry. The maid tells Marguerite that the gentleman is awaiting her at the house, and pushing the maid aside she hurries along to get the dreaded ordeal over. The old man is at first inclined to be a little imperious with the girl, but seeing that she truly loves his son and is willing to give him up if it is for his own good and his father wishes it. He becomes less severe and even takes Marguerite's hand as he bids her good-bye and expresses his gratitude for her unselfishness. Marguerite sets out for Paris without letting Armand know of her intention, but sends him a letter telling him that all is over between them and that he must not try to see her again, but return to his family, where he will soon learn to forget an unfortunate called Marguerite Gautier. When Armand discovers that Marguerite has flown he becomes like a madman and hurries to Paris, determined to have an interview with her and try to induce her to change her mind. He cannot find her at her house, which is closed, for Marguerite has taken up her residence with an old friend, Olympe by name, and when Armand hears this he secures an invitation to the home of his friend where a ball is to be given to some kindred spirits. On entering the drawing room the first one Armand sees is Marguerite who is gaily dancing with one of the handsomest men in the room and whom Armand recognizes as a wealthy young nobleman, who had always been a great admirer of Marguerite, but for whom she always professed a great dislike. Although Armand tries in every way to attract Marguerite's attention, for he is confident that she is conscious of his presence, she never looks in his direction or gives any sign that she knows he is in the room. Mad with jealousy and disappointment, Armand, when the guests are leaving endeavors to get a few words alone with the girl, but she repulses him and he unable to restrain his passion calls back the guests and denounces the terrified woman in their presence. All this excitement added to the sorrow she had experienced on being compelled to part with Armand had been too much for the already doomed Marguerite. Shortly after this scene she takes to her bed and many and many a weary day and night she passes, as all her gay friends have little time for her now that she is ill and unable to take part in their round of pleasure, The one thought that keeps her up in these days of suffering is that Armand, now that she is about to die, will come to see her and forgive her before she passes out of this life forever. As we see the emaciated form of the once bright and beautiful butterfly stretched out on her bed of pain, we start with horror on viewing the change that has come over the beautiful woman we saw but a short while ago seated surrounded by admirers in her box at the theater. Nanine, her faithful maid, enters just at this juncture and from her expression her mistress knows she is the bearer of joyful news. And so it is. Armand has finally arrived. On hearing the news Marguerite leaps from her bed and throwing her gown about her is in a moment clasped tightly in the arms of the only man she ever loved. But the joy had been too much for the poor, weakened frame. A terrible fit of coughing comes on and Marguerite Gautier, barely twenty-one years of age, but who has seen so much of life in this short time, passes away in the arms of one, who, had fate only brought him in her path a little sooner, might have made of her a different woman.