Girl with a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier Read Free Book Online Page A

ribbon was still in her hair.
    “Oh!” she said. “Where is Catharina?”
    “She’s gone with her mother to the Town Hall, madam. Family business.”
    “I see. Never mind, I’ll see her another day. I’ll leave this here for her.” She draped the mantle across the bed and dropped the pearl necklace on top of it.
    “Yes, madam.”
    I could not take my eyes off her. I felt as if I were seeing her and yet not seeing her. It was a strange sensation. She was, as Maria Thins had said, not as beautiful as when the light struck her in the painting. Yet she was beautiful, if only because I was remembering her so. She gazed at me with a puzzled look on her face, as if she ought to know me since I was staring at her with such familiarity. I managed to lower my eyes. “I will tell her you called, madam.”
    She nodded but looked troubled. She glanced at the pearls she had laid on top of the mantle. “I think I shall leave these up in the studio with him,” she announced, picking up the necklace. She did not look at me, but I knew she was thinking that maids were not to be trusted with pearls. After she had gone her face lingered like perfume.

    On Saturday Catharina and Maria Thins took Tanneke and Maertge with them to the market in the square, where they would buy vegetables to last the week, staples and other things for the house. I longed to go with them, thinking I might see my mother and sister, but I was told to stay at the house with the younger girls and the baby. It was difficult to keep them from running off to the market. I would have taken them there myself but I did not dare leave the house unattended. Instead we watched the boats go up and down the canal, full on their way to the market with cabbages, pigs, flowers, wood, flour, strawberries, horseshoes. They were empty on the way back, the boatmen counting money or drinking. I taught the girls games I had played with Agnes and Frans, and they taught me games they had made up. They blew bubbles, played with their dolls, ran with their hoops while I sat on the bench with Johannes in my lap.
    Cornelia seemed to have forgotten about the slap. She was cheerful and friendly, helpful with Johannes, obedient to me. “Will you help me?” she asked me as she tried to climb onto a barrel the neighbors had left out in the street. Her light brown eyes were wide and innocent. I found myself warming to her sweetness, yet knowing I could not trust her. She could be the most interesting of the girls, but also the most changeable—the best and the worst at the same time.
    They were sorting through a collection of shells they had brought outside, dividing them into piles of different colors, when he came out of the house. I squeezed the baby round his middle, feeling his ribs under my hands. He squealed and I buried my nose in his ear to hide my face.
    “Papa, can I go with you?” Cornelia cried, jumping up and grabbing his hand. I could not see the expression on his face—the tilt of his head and the brim of his hat hid it.
    Lisbeth and Aleydis abandoned their shells. “I want to go too!” they shouted in unison, grabbing his other hand.
    He shook his head and then I could see his bemused expression. “Not today—I’m going to the apothecary’s.”
    “Will you buy paint things, Papa?” Cornelia asked, still holding on to his hand.
    “Among other things.”
    Baby Johannes began to cry and he glanced down at me. I bounced the baby, feeling awkward.
    He looked as if he would say something, but instead he shook off the girls and strode down the Oude Langendijck.
    He had not said a word to me since we discussed the color and shape of vegetables.

    I woke very early on Sunday, for I was excited to go home. I had to wait for Catharina to unlock the front door, but when I heard it swing open I came out to find Maria Thins with the key.
    “My daughter is tired today,” she said as she stood aside to let me out. “She will rest for a few days. Can you manage without