Saraband Page #6

- She'll blame herself.|- She should have thought about it.

- Do you think she'll return home?|- I don't know.

- You'll speak to her, won't you?|- If we find her.

I'll hire you as my agent.|How much do you charge?

Money is no problem.

As long as you put her|guilt in a safe.

What if she comes?|She loves that bastard.

- That would be disastrous!|- Yes, I believe so.

What can I say?

I was so close to Anna.

It was terrible when she left.|For me also.

Even though I was on the|outskirts of the catastrophe.

It's incomprehensible that Henrik...

had the privilege|of loving Anna.

And that she loved him.

- You're smiling ironically.|- No.

I'm not smiling.|I'm trying not to cry.

There's no reason for you to cry.

There is, but I won't|give any explanations.

TEN|THE HOUR BEFORE THE DAWN

Marianne.

Marianne!|Sorry to wake you up.

It's all right.|I'll go back to sleep.

- What's wrong? Johan?|- I don't know.

- I think it's anguish.|- Anguish? What do you mean?

- I see! You're sad!|- I'm not sad...

It's worse. It's an anguish|from hell. It's bigger than me.

It's trying to make way through|every orifice in my body;

my eyes, my ass. It's like a huge|mental diarrhea!

I'm too small for this anxiety.

Are you afraid of death, Johan?

More than anything,|I'd like to scream.

What can you do with a baby|that won't be comforted?

- Come, lay by my side.|- There's no room.

- We've slept in smaller beds.|- We won't be able to sleep.

It doesn't matter. Not in|the last days of our lives.

I have to take off my shirt.|It's damp from my diarrhea.

Come on.

You take it off too.

Yes

Come on, Johan.|Come here.

There... lie down.

- Good night, Marianne.|- Good night.

Could you explain why|you turned up here?

- I thought you were calling me.|- I never called anyone.

- I had it in my head.|- How strange.

I understand your not understanding.

- How long will you stay?|- I have a case on the 27th.

- November?|- October.

- Good night, again.|- Good night.

Perhaps you're asking|yourself how it came out.

I stayed with Johan|until early October.

Our time together|was relaxingly pleasant.

We almost never talked about|sensitive subjects.

The last night we celebrated.

Nothing out of this world,|but good enough.

We promised to remain in touch.

I think we even fantasized|about a trip to Florence...

the next spring.

That trip never|happened, of course.

But we used to speak on|the phone on Sundays.

Then, one day Mrs. Nilsson|answered the phone.

She said that Johan|couldn't take any calls,

but that he would write.

I asked if he was all right;|she said yes, as far as she could tell.

That he was just tired and|that he would be writing.

I never got a letter, of course.

I wrote him, but never got an answer.

That's all I know.

Things are always all|right with me. In order.

Everything in its place. Maybe I'm a|bit lonely, but I don't know.

Sometimes... I think of Anna.

I wonder how she|managed her life.

How she spoke...

How she moved...

Her look...

That almost surreal smile.

Anna's feelings.

Anna's love.

Well...

Something happened to me that|perhaps is related to this.

When I came back, I visited|my daughter Martha at the sanatorium.

But I thought about|the enigma...

that for the first|time in our lives...

I realized...|I felt...

that I was touching my daughter.

My baby.

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