Wings over Delft Read Online Free Page A

it is not quantity, but quality of light that we need. Look down at your dress, to where I am pointing, and you will understand what I mean. Tell me, what colours do you see?’
    Louise looked and was puzzled. ‘Colours…? Well, green …?’
    ‘Ah yes, green, but what green? How many greens? Look, here within the folds.’ He pointed to a deep fold that opened from her right knee. ‘See … down in here, where the light is less, the green is darker. Now we rise towardsthe light.’ As Louise followed his finger, it was as if she was watching a magic brush trailing a continuum of different shades of green behind it.
    ‘Yes, Master, I see!’ she said delightedly. ‘Why did I never notice? There are thousands of greens here.’
    ‘Ah ha! People just don’t see . And look, where the light from the crest of this fold is reflected into the almost black shadow of the fold next to it? Here we have reflected light. That is why Pieter closed the curtains. Now, with light coming just from the windows facing north, no one colour dominates. Each colour, while subdued, is correct in relation to the colours around it.’
    ‘Father says that all the colours in the world are hidden in a single beam of light. That a rainbow isn’t painted onto the sky but is made from the way light shines on the rain.’ She was beginning to enjoy herself. Men – other than Father, that is – never talked to her like this. She wanted to ask him about the other colours, but then she realised that he had backed away from her. She looked up; he was observing her with his head cocked to one side. The look went on and on. Then he said, almost to himself:
    ‘I see you, child. You are like a sneeze that will not come.’ In a normal voice he said: ‘Tell me about your father. There are some in town that are suspicious of people who delve into mysteries like the nature of light. Some people believe that we should leave the heavens to God and let him paint the rainbows in the sky. Your father is a freethinker?’
    Louise nodded enthusiastically. ‘Father says we mustquestion everything. He plans to introduce philosophy in the school if he is elected to the Town Council.’
    ‘Does he, indeed?’ The Master was looking at her again; his eyes were narrowed this time. He picked up a slender paintbrush and idly fingered the bristles as if they made the point of a sword. ‘You say he is building a telescope?’
    ‘We both are!’ Louise corrected, but added, a little lamely, ‘Well, actually the cooper from the pottery is making the tube for us.’
    ‘Your honesty is commendable, my dear, but that will not protect you from error.’ He dropped the brush back into its jug and squared up to her, hands on hips. ‘I suppose you support this newfangled idea that the earth spins about the sun?’
    Louise was taken aback. Did anyone still believe that the earth stood stationary, and that the sun moved around it? She glanced across at the apprentice; he half-smiled and dropped his gaze. The Master, who had seen her look, growled. ‘Get on with your work, Pieter, you won’t understand our learned discussion here.’ She felt indignant for the young man; there was nothing she could do for him, but she could challenge the Master.
    ‘Can it really be, sir, that you think that the sun spins about the earth?’ she asked.
    ‘Of course it does. Use the evidence of your eyes. The sun rises in the east – or it did when I last looked – it traverses the heavens, and then it sinks in the west. It doesn’t achieve this by standing still, my dear.’
    ‘But, Galileo –’
    ‘Galileo be damned,’ he interrupted rudely. ‘If the sun did not move, then the earth would have to spin like a top to compensate. You, my dear, would be thrown off it, so too would every movable object. Pigs would fly; even Pieter would be snatched from his just deserts at the gates of hell. Look what happens!’ To Louise’s alarm, the artist began to spin. ‘Watch my sleeves,’ he