Pieter the Butcher Quotes in Girl with a Pearl Earring
“Oh yes, that story went all around the Meat Hall,” he answered, chuckling. […] “It was several years ago now. It seems van Ruijven wanted one of his kitchen maids to sit for a painting with him. They dressed her in one of his wife’s gowns, a red one, and van Ruijven made sure there was wine in the painting so he could get her to drink every time they sat together. Sure enough, before the painting was finished she was carrying van Ruijven’s child.”
“What happened to her?”
Pieter shrugged, “What happens to girls like that?”
His words froze my blood. Of course I had heard such stories before, but never one so close to me. I thought about my dreams of wearing Catharina’s clothes, of van Ruijven grasping my chin in the hallway, of him saying “You should paint her” to my master.
At first it was very hard for me. When I saw him I froze wherever I was, my chest tightened, and I could not get my breath. I had to hide my response from Pieter the father and son, from my mother, from the curious market gossips.
For a long time I thought I might still matter to him.
After a while, though, I admitted to myself that he had always cared more for the painting of me than for me.
It grew easier to accept when Jan was born. My son made me turn inward to my family, as I had done when I was a child, before I became a maid. I was so busy with him that I did not have time to look out and around me. […] When I saw my old master across the square my heart no longer squeezed itself like a fist.
Pieter the Butcher Quotes in Girl with a Pearl Earring
“Oh yes, that story went all around the Meat Hall,” he answered, chuckling. […] “It was several years ago now. It seems van Ruijven wanted one of his kitchen maids to sit for a painting with him. They dressed her in one of his wife’s gowns, a red one, and van Ruijven made sure there was wine in the painting so he could get her to drink every time they sat together. Sure enough, before the painting was finished she was carrying van Ruijven’s child.”
“What happened to her?”
Pieter shrugged, “What happens to girls like that?”
His words froze my blood. Of course I had heard such stories before, but never one so close to me. I thought about my dreams of wearing Catharina’s clothes, of van Ruijven grasping my chin in the hallway, of him saying “You should paint her” to my master.
At first it was very hard for me. When I saw him I froze wherever I was, my chest tightened, and I could not get my breath. I had to hide my response from Pieter the father and son, from my mother, from the curious market gossips.
For a long time I thought I might still matter to him.
After a while, though, I admitted to myself that he had always cared more for the painting of me than for me.
It grew easier to accept when Jan was born. My son made me turn inward to my family, as I had done when I was a child, before I became a maid. I was so busy with him that I did not have time to look out and around me. […] When I saw my old master across the square my heart no longer squeezed itself like a fist.