Rembrandt's Mirror by Kim Devereux Page B

not be at peace no matter how good the linen smelled. I gathered up the sheets once more and set off for the kitchen. Geertje was out and it would be warm and quiet there – at least until Titus returned from school.
    The next morning Samuel came into the kitchen. Geertje was scrubbing a pan and bubbles were rising up into the air. Samuel was lingering by the door and I thought again of the way he and his master had looked at one another.
    â€˜Geertje, we need a model for class,’ said Samuel.
    A preposterous thought presented itself before it could be stifled. He wanted me as a model.
    Geertje turned and looked at me. ‘You’ll have to get one. I must be off to market.’
    â€˜Oh,’ I replied. I had no idea what was involved.
    â€˜Don’t stand there gawping, go out and find a body.’
    â€˜A body?’ I said.
    â€˜We’d hardly send you to fetch a proper lady from a mansion on the Herengracht,’ said Geertje.
    Both of them sniggered. Then she explained, ‘It’s for the life-drawing class. You go to the harbour – that’s where the street walkers are. Make sure you speak to one that you think the master would like the look of and offer her ten stuivers . That’s more than enough for a morning’s work.’
    â€˜But how will I know a working woman from an ordinary one?’
    â€˜Prostitutes look exceedingly gay and wear fine dresses, almost as gentlewomen do. But they don’t seem to know how to move in them with grace and their hands are coarse and marked.’
    â€˜And how do I know which one to pick?’
    â€˜So many questions from you today. You’ll have to guess. I grant you, it is difficult to know what suits his pencil – sometimes the more life’s left marks on them, the more he likes to draw them.’
    And with that and a chuckle, Geertje left.
    I was soon eyeing up the women and tried imagining them doing what they ordinarily got paid for. Being a model must be an infinitely more pleasant way to make money. They were all attractively attired, with low-cut dresses. When I got closer, I noticed that their cheeks and lips were painted with rouge, which gave them a lively appearance. I reminded myself that I was not choosing for a man but for an artist, for him. Were the two entirely separate? Which woman would he like to draw?
    I noticed a woman who looked far less pretty than the others. She was at least forty, of squat, voluminous build. While the others made a great show of giggling, waving, smiling and joking with one another, she stood there, looking bored. Every now and then she opened her jaws to indulge in an extended and noisy yawn, which revealed one of her canine teeth to be missing. Even Geertje would have appeared something of a beauty next to her.
    I had the power to bestow a favour – a giddying prospect for someone like me. I chose her. Lacking in attractiveness, she was more likely to be in need of money and therefore less likely to turn me down. And with her well-trodden looks she might well suit his purpose.
    I began by offering her less than the ten stuivers , like Geertje did when she haggled over a joint of lamb. When she answered, I was surprised how well spoken she was, and she had a foreign accent, possibly German. After a brief negotiation we were on our way back to Rembrandt’s studio. What a strange pair we must have made, her in a bright green dress and me in my brownish house wear. Like me, she was a fast walker. I thought again about her occupation. It was not only a crime in the eyes of the law, it was a cardinal sin that would be punished by God either in this life or the next and yet she continued in this way. It was unfathomable.
    I showed her into the studio, where she was greeted by Rembrandt and the pupils, Dirck, Nicolaes, Johann Ulrich and Samuel. Then I remained, for I was curious. Unfortunately, they were all looking at me – as if the commencement of their work