The Best Intentions by Ingmar Bergman

failings. You are clearly conceited. You thought up this business of ourfuture together. Not me. I have always been prepared to live in reality. And my reality is gray. And dull. Ugly. ( Gets up .) Do you know what I’m going to do now? Well, I’m going home to Frida. I’ll go home to her and ask her forgiveness for my stupid and foolish betrayal. I’ll tell her what I said and what you said and what we did and then I’ll ask her forgiveness.
    Anna: I’m cold.
    Henrik is not listening. He goes out.
    In the hall he bumps into Ernst, who has just come through the door and is taking off his raincoat. Henrik mumbles something and tries to get past, but is grabbed.
    Ernst: Hey, hey, hey, what’s all this?
    Henrik: Let me go. I really want to leave and never come back again.
    Ernst ( imitates ): “ . . . want to leave and never come back again.” What are you talking about? Is this a Schubert romance?
    Henrik: It was stupid from the start. Please let go of me.
    Ernst: And what have you done with Anna?
    Henrik: I suppose she’s still in there.
    Ernst: Quarreling already. You don’t waste much time. But Anna’s an impatient girl. She likes to get on with things.
    He presses Henrik down onto the white-painted wood box in the hall and stands over by the glass doors so Henrik can’t possibly escape. At that moment, Anna emerges. When she sees her brother, she stops abruptly and slaps her thigh with her hand. Then she turns roughly to the window.
    Ernst: What the hell’s going on?
    Henrik: I really do beg of you to let me go. The next step will be to punch you in the jaw.
    Anna ( calls ): Just let him go.
    Ernst: Don’t disappear, Henrik. We can have dinner at Cold Märta’s at five, can’t we? What about it?
    Henrik: I don’t know. There’s no point.
    He has his pack in his arms and takes his student cap down from the hat shelf. Ernst opens the hall door, and Henrik disappears downthe stairs, taking great strides. Ernst closes the door and slowly goes in to his sister. She is still standing by the window, showing all the signs of anger and pain.
    Ernst: Anna, my cranberry heart, how have you brought all this about?
    Anna turns to Ernst and puts her arms around his neck, then cries very dramatically and possibly enjoyably for a few seconds. Then she falls silent and blows her nose on the proffered handkerchief.
    Anna: I’m sure I love him.
    Ernst: And he?
    Anna: I’m sure he loves me.
    Ernst: Why are you blubbering then? Listen, Anna.
    Anna: It hurts so.
    Ernst sits down on a chair and takes his sister on his lap, and there they sit in tender intimacy without saying another word. The rain stops, and the sun draws hard white squares and rectangles on the protective curtain over the windows. The whole room appears to be floating.
    Henrik does as he said, and makes his way to the Gillet Hotel, trudging up the six flights and banging on Frida’s door. After a while she opens up, drowsy with sleep and wearing a capacious flannel nightgown with a stocking wrapped around her neck. Her nose is red and her eyes are glazed. She stares at Henrik as if he were not real. Despite this, she steps aside and lets him in.
    Frida: Are you in town?
    Henrik: Are you ill?
    Frida: I’ve got a terrible cold and a sore throat and temperature. So I had to go home at half past nine last night. I almost fainted. Would you like some coffee? I was just thinking of making something hot.
    Henrik: No, thank you.
    Frida: How nice of you to come and surprise me. I would never have expected that. Thanks for your nice letter, by the way. I was just going to answer it, but there’s so little time and I’m not much good at writing.
    Behind a screen is the room’s only luxury article, a small gas stove with a weak, sooty flame. Frida makes coffee and spreads sandwiches. Despite his feeble protests, Henrik allows himself to be waited on. Frida patters about, barefoot and