From Casablanca...
CUT TO:
INT. RICK’S CAFE - APARTMENT - NIGHT
Rick opens the door and goes inside the dark room. Light from the hall reveals a figure by the window. He lights a small lamp. Ilsa faces him, her face white but determined. Rick pauses for a moment in astonishment.
RICK: How did you get in?
ILSA: The stairs from the street.
Ilsa comes over to meet him.
RICK: I told you this morning you’d come around, but this is a little ahead of schedule. Well, won’t you sit down?
ILSA: Richard, I had to see you.
RICK: You use “Richard” again? We’re back in Paris.
ILSA: Please.
RICK: Your unexpected visit isn’t connected by any chance with the letters of transit? It seems that as long as I have those letters I’ll never be lonely.
ILSA: You can ask any price you want, but you must give me those letters.
RICK: I went through all that with your husband. It’s no deal.
ILSA: I know how you feel about me, but I’m asking you to put your feelings aside for something more important.
RICK: Do I have to hear again what a great man your husband is? What an important cause he’s fighting for?
ILSA: It was your cause, too. In your own way, you were fighting for the same thing.
RICK: I’m not fighting for anything anymore, except myself. I’m the only cause I’m interested in.
He walks over to the window and Ilsa follows.
ILSA: Richard, Richard, we loved each other once. If those days meant anything at all to you -
RICK (interrupting, harshly) — I wouldn’t bring up Paris if I were you. It’s poor salesmanship.
ILSA: Please. Please listen to me. If you knew what really happened, if you only knew the truth -
RICK: (cutting in) — I wouldn’t believe you, no matter what you told me. You’d say anything now to get what you want.
Rick walks over to a table and opens a cigarette box, but finds it empty.
ILSA: You want to feel sorry for yourself, don’t you? With so much at stake, all you can think of is your own feelings. One woman has hurt you, and you take revenge on the rest of the world. You’re a, you’re a coward, and a weakling.
There are tears in her eyes now.
ILSA: No. Oh, Richard, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but, but you, you are our last hope. If you don’t help us, Victor Laszlo will die in Casablanca.
RICK: What of it? I’m going to die in Casablanca. It’s a good spot for it.
He turns away to light a cigarette, then back to Ilsa.
RICK Now if you -
He stops short as he sees Ilsa holding a small revolver in her hand. It’s pointed directly at him.
ILSA: — All right. I tried to reason with you. I tried everything. Now I want those letters. Get them for me.
RICK I don’t have to… right here. I’ve got them
ILSA: Put them on the table.
RICK (shaking his head) No.
ILSA: For the last time, put them on the table.
RICK: If Laszlo and the cause mean so much to you, you won’t stop at anything. All right, I’ll make it easier for you.
He moves closer to her.
RICK: Go ahead and shoot. me a favor. You’ll be doing
Her hand drops down, and there are tears in her eyes again. She turns and walks away from him.
ILSA: Richard, I tried to stay away. I thought I would never see you again, that you were out of my life.
Rick follows her and takes her in his arms. tight to him. He presses her
ILSA: The day you left, if you knew what I went through! If you knew how much I loved you, how much I still love you!
Rick kisses her passionately. She is lost in his embrace.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. RICK’S CAFE - APARTMENT - LATER
From his window, Rick watches the revolving beacon light at the airport. Ilsa sits on the couch. On a table before her rests a bottle of champagne along with two half-filled glasses. Rick walks over to her.
RICK: I’ll never have the strength to leave you again.
RICK: And Laszlo?
ILSA: Oh, you’ll help him now, Richard, won’t you? You’ll see that he gets out? Then he’ll have his work, all that he’s been living for.
RICK: All except one. He won’t have you. Ilsa puts her head on Rick’s shoulder.
ILSA: I can’t fight it anymore. I ran away from you once. I can’t do it again. Oh, I don’t know what’s right any longer. You’ll have to think for both of us, for all of us.
RICK All right, I will. Here’s looking at you, kid.
ILSA: I wish I didn’t love you so much.
She snuggles closer to Rick.

By Julius Epstein, Philip Epstein,
and the late Woodstock
resident, Howard Koch