"Chevalier, Tracy - Girl with a Pearl Earring" - читать интересную книгу автора (Chevalier Tracy)

I wondered what he would paint next.
Downstairs I set water on the fire to heat and asked Tanneke what she wanted from the butcher. She was sweeping the steps and tiles in front of the house. "A rack of beef," she replied, leaning against her broom. "Why not have something nice?" She rubbed her lower back and groaned. "It may take my mind off my aches."
"Is it your back again?" I tried to sound sympathetic, but Tanneke's back always hurt. A maid's back would always hurt. That was a maid's life.
Maertge came with me to the Meat Hall, and I was glad of it—since that night in the alley I was embarrassed to be alone with Pieter the son. I was not sure how he would treat me. If I was with Maertge, however, he would have to be careful of what he said or did.
Pieter the son was not there—only his father, who grinned at me. "Ah, the birthday maid!" he cried. "An important day for you."
Maertge looked at me in surprise. I had not mentioned my birthday to the family—there was no reason to.
"There's nothing important about it," I snapped.
"That's not what my son said. He's off now, on an errand. Someone to see." Pieter the father winked at me. My blood chilled. He was saying something without saying it, something I was meant to understand.
"Your finest rack of beef," I ordered, deciding to ignore him.
"In celebration, then?" Pieter the father never let things drop, but pushed them as far as he could.
I did not reply. I simply waited until he served me, then put the beef in my pail and turned away.
"Is it really your birthday, Griet?" Maertge whispered as we left the Meat Hall.
"Yes."
"How old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"Why is eighteen so important?"
"It's not. You mustn't listen to what he says—he's a silly man."
Maertge didn't look convinced. Nor was I. His words had tugged at something in my mind.
I worked all morning rinsing and boiling laundry. My mind turned to many things while I sat over the tub of steaming water. I wondered where Frans was, and if my parents had heard yet that he had left Delft. I wondered what Pieter the father had meant earlier, and where Pieter the son was. I thought of the night in the alley. I thought of the painting of me, and wondered when it would be done and what would happen to me then. All the while my ear throbbed, stabbing with pain whenever I moved my head.
It was Maria Thins who came to get me.
"Leave your washing, girl," I heard her say behind me. "He wants you upstairs." She was standing in the doorway, shaking something in her hand.
I got up in confusion. "Now, madam?"
"Yes, now. Don't be coy with me, girl. You know why. Catharina has gone out this morning, and she doesn't do that much these days, now her time is closer. Hold out your hand."
I dried a hand on my apron and held it out. Maria Thins dropped a pair of pearl earrings into my palm.
"Take them up with you now. Quickly."
I could not move. I was holding two pearls the size of hazel-nuts, shaped like drops of water. They were silvery grey, even in the sunlight, except for a dot of fierce white light. I had touched pearls before, when I brought them upstairs for van Ruijven's wife and tied them round her neck or laid them on the table. But I had never held them for myself before.
"Go on, girl," Maria Thins growled impatiently. "Catharina may come back sooner than she said."
I stumbled into the hallway, leaving the laundry unwrung. I climbed the stairs in full view of Tanneke, who was bringing in water from the canal, and Aleydis and Cornelia, who were rolling marbles in the hallway. They all looked up at me.
"Where are you going?" Aleydis asked, her grey eyes bright with interest.
"To the attic," I replied softly.
"Can we come with you?" Cornelia said in a taunting voice.
"No."
"Girls, you're blocking my way." Tanneke pushed past them, her face dark.
The studio door was ajar. I stepped inside, pressing my lips together, my stomach twisting. I closed the door behind me.
He was waiting for me. I held my hand out to him and dropped the earrings into his palm.
He smiled at me. "Go and wrap up your hair."
I changed in the storeroom. He did not come to look at my hair. As I returned I glanced at The Procuress on the wall. The man was smiling at the young woman as if he were squeezing pears in the market to see if they were ripe. I shivered.
He was holding up an earring by its wire. It caught the light from the window, capturing it in a tiny panel of bright white.
"Here you are, Griet." He held out the pearl to me.
"Griet! Griet! Someone is here to see you!" Maertge called from the bottom of the stairs.
I stepped to the window. He came to my side and we looked out.
Pieter the son was standing in the street below, arms crossed. He glanced up and saw us standing together at the window. "Come down, Griet," he called. "I want to speak to you." He looked as if he would never move from his spot.
I stepped back from the window. "I'm sorry, sir," I said in a low voice. "I won't be long." I hurried to the storeroom, pulled off the headcloths and changed into my cap. He was still standing at the window, his back to me, as I passed through the studio.
The girls were sitting in a row on the bench, staring openly at Pieter, who stared back at them.
"Let's go around the corner," I whispered, moving towards the Molenpoort. Pieter did not follow, but continued to stand with his arms crossed.
"What were you wearing up there?" he asked. "On your head."
I stopped and turned back. "My cap."
"No, it was blue and yellow."
Five sets of eyes watched us—the girls on the bench, him at the window. Then Tanneke appeared in the doorway, and that made six.
"Please, Pieter," I hissed. "Let's go along a little way."