Nightwatching Page #3

I have his replica in my belly.

- Saskia!

- And you promised after

you trapped him with my smile

and my body as bait...

- Saskia, Saskia...

...that I would think of you,

and I was certainly

to think of myself.

Rembrandt therefore left you,

through me,

on your recommendation.

You benefited...

from this little provincial

for eight profitable years.

Time enough

to make a little fortune.

Now it's my turn...

to make a little fortune,

for my son.

And I believe

you still owe us money.

- Saskia.

- Rembrandt,

allow me to introduce

Rombout Kemp,

our sergeant.

You may know him as the Keeper

of the Resselwart Orphanage.

- Van Rijn.

We are neighbours

in the Breestraat.

How about making a contribution

to the orphanage?

We have many new children,

orphaned by the Spanish wars.

- Then I think

they must all be touching 30.

- Hmm.

The governing body is now six.

Perhaps as a neighbour

you might like to join us,

a man of means

doing charitable works,

and we may need

a group portrait soon

to remind us

of our responsibilities.

Perhaps we could remind you

of your responsibilities.

(dogs barking)

- I, Rembrandt,

will be your commanding officer.

Are you ready, Mr. Painter?

Then aim...

...fire!

(gunshot)

(crowd exclaiming)

- Rembrandt!

Oh, what's happening?

- Oh, she's fainted!

Fetch some water!

Can you hear me?!

Saskia! Saskia!

Never again! Saskia!

- Look at this.

Bloody burghers.

Gawking and smiling.

Poncing and posing.

I can do better than that.

- There's Benjamin.

He had a most desirable wife.

Dimples and curls everywhere.

- He couldn't sit still.

He had a bladder complaint.

We had to keep the chamber pot

by his chair.

They all look so stiff.

- They all look like conspirators.

- Or worse -

thieves, pickpockets.

Child-molesters, murderers...

- His head's too big.

- Well, maybe the painter

wanted you to say that.

He didn't like him

or approve of his character,

so he made him absurd.

Not enough to spoil

his own reputation,

of course,

but certainly enough

to spoil his.

Legitimate painter's armoury.

Flatter, praise,

insult, abuse, accuse.

- Accuse?

Are you going to do the same?

- I might. It depends.

- On what?

- The price,

the state of our friendship,

the angle of the light,

the smell of his armpits,

the beauty of his wife,

whether I've eaten or drunk,

whether, indeed, I am drunk,

does he know Titian,

has he been to Cadiz,

does he have big feet?

Context, context, context.

- God,

I'd like to watch you

do those things.

I really think

you ought to do it.

- You do?

Well, the boy says

I should do it.

Then I'll do it!

(laughter)

No, I won't.

At least, not for nothing.

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