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Richard.

Sorry.

Hello, everyone.

So, how goesyour first day?

Are you meeting people?

One right after the other.

I hope there's notgoing to be a quiz.

I'm sure it's allvery confusingat the moment.

We couldn't believeour good fortune

when you agreedto help us out

at such short notice.

Yes, the Headmaster'sbottomless well of gratitude

is all that prevents mefrom pointing out

that you're not...

Well, when was the last time

that you saw an art teacherwearing a tie?

Yesterdayat your predecessor's funeral.

Actually, the students dohave a dress code and so do we.

Of course.

And there you have it--the end of the honeymoon.

-Actually, you know,
-I haven't met everyone.

Ah, Cornelia Engelbrecht,lady of mystery.

Teaches European history.

I wouldn't expect muchfrom Cornelia.

She's not terriblycollegial.

Lives alonewith her father.

Does her job.

Ah, Miss...

Engelbrecht.

Yes.

Cornelia.

Come in.

A month into it and you're stillmaking time to paint.

Such selfishnessis unusual.

So, are you going to tell them?

I'm sorry. Tell who?

The ones who have no talent.

16 years old is a little early

to be passing judgmenton talent.

Why?

If they possess it

they will have demonstratedthe fact by then.

Mozart, Picasso.

Why encourage drones?

So you don't believein late bloomers.

How long should we wait?

for this particular talentto bloom, I wonder?

That one might be a while.

So

what brings you

to our charminglittle academic fiefdom?

Drug problems? Alcohol?

Have you run afoulof the law?

Nothing so dramatic.

Well.

Never mind.

Everyone in a place like thisis hiding from something.

For most, it's their ownmilitant ignorance

of the subjectsthey're paid to teach.

Does that include you, Cornelia?

I wonder if ...might show you something?

Daddy...

Daddy

this is Richard

the new painterI was telling you about.

Painter?

I'm going to borrowthe key, Daddy.

I'll bring it right back.

-We talked about this,
-Daddy, remember?

After supper, we'lllook at it together.

Together?

A series of smallstrokes, actually,

each more damagingthan the last.

And you arethe sole caregiver?

Well, there's no oneelse, is there?

Yes, but there's...

Would you mindstanding over there

by the pew?

But there areservices, agencies.

Yes, but that would meansomeone else in the house

which, I'm afraid,is out of the question.

Do you mind me asking why?

Because of that.

Oh, my.

I knew it.

I knew the first timeI laid eyes on you

that finallythere is someone

capable of appreciating.

Your predecessorwas a philistine,

acomplete ignoramus.

Look...

look at her eye...

like a pearl.

The longing in her expression,the Delft light spilling on her.

And look, look, see here?

The grace of her hand,

idle, palm up.

It's beautiful.

Certainly done in the styleof Vermeer.

Itis a Vermeer.

There are so few,

only 40 canvases in all

and most of themalready identified.

Look, Richard, look!

Look at thewindow glass,

smooth asliquid light.

And look

look at the basket.

Tiny grooves of brushstrokes

creating the texturesin the reed.

That's Vermeer.

It's perfectlyexquisite,

but isn't its beauty enough?

What does it matterif it's authentic?

It's a Vermeer!

If you're right,

then why isn't it hangingin a museum?

Paintings have histories.

Its previous ownerswould have been real people

as real as yourself.

They would have lefta record.

Yes, you're right.

They did.

Here they are, Richard,

very real, as you say.

Each of them

in one brief moment in time

the sole owner of a genuine,lost Vermeer.

I don't know what to say.

Well, it's taken yearsof research

and single-minded devotion

tracking this painting downthrough the centuries.

It's required nothing lessthan a lifetime.

Not a lifetime, a life.

Mine, actually.

Not that I regret a momentof it, you understand.

We've been privileged, too,my father and I.

Keepers of the flame.

Okay, you have my attention.

Tell me.

Very well.

We'll start with Laurens,the sea merchant

who in the autumn of his life

learned that love could not bemaintained without effort.

-Laurens!

Laurens!

Yes, dear.

Laurens!

Coming, dear.

Laurens, the day's wasting!

Oh, finally.

Where did they go?

They grew tiredof waiting for you, as did I.

Honestly, husband, you would trythe patience of a saint.

I don't think littleDirk wants me

to marry you.

-Little Dirkisn't the only one.

Laurens,don't be that way.

Fritz is a fine young fellow.

Handsome, too.

We must give thema fine gift.

Something of oursshe's always loved.

Give them a broomand a butter churn.

He'll take heraway, you know.

To Amsterdam,in all likelihood.

I could give her my mother'sopal ring, of course

but that wouldn't befrom both of us to both of them.

Look at him with his city shoes.

There's nothing wrongwith his shoes.

Nor with good,solid clogs.

Laurens.

Go!

-I know we'll give herthe painting.

The Girl in Hyacinth Blue.

Out of the question.

-But she's always loved it,
-Laurens.

Why are you so ungenerous?

Just thinkof something else, Digna.

But why?

It isthe perfect gift.

It would be

a touch of our home in theirs.

I'm sorry, Digna.

The truth is I would notwant to be without it.

Why don't you want to give themthe painting?

Is it becauseof her, then?

Who?

Oh, Laurens!

Digna!

Digna!

Did you think I didn't knowabout her, then?

It is not what you think.

We were very young.

Her name was Tanneke.

I do not want to know her name.

I do not want to know whoit is you think of every night

when you stopto look at that painting

before you come upstairsto our bed.

-Papa?

There's a chillin the air.

Remember how you usedto call them wishbone boats?

Are you not happyfor me, Papa?

Yes. I am.

Isn't love absolutelythe most stupendous thing?

I mean, I knowyou and Mama love each other

but still, Iwasn't prepared.

Prepared?

For the power.

Will it last forever,do you think?

Yes.

Yes, it will.

Aren't you going to come in?

As soon as I finish my pipe.

All right.

Come, Dirk.

CORNELIA:Perhaps it wasthe euphoria of first love

or maybe it wassimply the painting

that kept his memory alive.

TANNEKE:Oh, Laurens.

Is it not the mostglorious day ever?

No. It's the worst.

The sky is fullof thunderheads.

It'll rain and rainand we will all drown.

Melodramatic boy.

Must you go tomorrow?

My aunt has fallen seriously ill

and there's no oneto care for her.

What about me?

Will I not be

sick at heartuntil your return?

No.

Why will you not marry me?

I didn't say Iwouldn't marry you.

I said I'd considermarrying you.

Which means you're alsoconsidering not marrying me.

Yes, that, too.

I know we've not knowneach other very long

but, Tanneke

surely you must seehow much I love you

and what's more,you love me.

Don't pretend you don'tbecause I know you do.

Isn't that the most beautifulthing you've ever seen?

No.

Do you see how patiently

she waits for him?

For him?

For her lover.

She loves him and maybeone day they will marry.

Well, I hope shedoesn't waittoo long.

-Hey.

Hey, Tanneke, come here.

I have you now.

You only think you do.

You have suchbeautiful hair.

Won't you neverlet it down?

Perhaps, one day.

Um... willyou come

to the coach housetomorrow to see me off?

Of course.

Promise?

Yes, yes, yes.

There will bemore kissing

when I return-- ifyou prove worthy.

All right, that's it!

-Don't go now.

Just be therewhen she returns

and I'll promise you this--

she will love you morefor breaking your promise

than for keeping it.

Do you knownothing of women?

No.

Excuse me.

Has someone...

A young girl.

She was awaynursing her aunt.

Became infected.

What girl?

Tanneke, she was called.

All right,let's go.

May I see?

Mm-hmm.

"Ne malorum...

memineris."

What does that mean?

"Remember no wrongs."

I'm taking that advice, you see.

You were right.

It will makea perfect gift.

Do you ever wishyou were young again?

Like the girl in the painting?

Like Joannaand Fritz.

Oh, no.

Do you?

Not from this moment forward.

CORNELIA:For Saskia,

even before the great flood

her farmhouse was an islandapart from the world.

Stijn!

Stijn.

The world has notseemed so beautiful

since I as a girl

at my parents' farmin Westerbork.

We're floodedout, Saskia.

Every farm in thecounty's underwater.

Soon there'll be nothingto eat but beauty.

Do we need all this stuff?

When are yougoing to...?

I don't know, Saskia.

As long as theyneed me, I suppose.

The dike won'trepair itself.

Saskia!

Take this.

Look.

Look, children.

Saskia!

There's more!

Take this to your mother.

Mama?

What is it?

A baby.

Someone left a baby in a boat.

-Do you think you'llbe like her one day?

A fine young ladyin a fine home?

Let's call it...

Morningshine.

Your grandmother always says,"Paintings should have names."

Do you remember her housein Westerbork?

Is the flood there, too?

No.

Inland is safe from floods.

Why don't we live inland?

Because landis expensive

and because the farmyour father inherited is here.

It's bad.

The drainage millscan't begin their work

until the sea dike is repaired

and the crops will surelybe ruined by then.

It'll be a miracleif we even get

a spring planting in.

The baby took milkfive times today.

What kind of mother wouldleave an infant in a flood?

One who had no choice.

One who was trappedand saw no way out.

What's this?

It was stuckat the back of the painting.

It's the workof a man from Delft

and... there's a message

written at the top.

-"Sell the painting.
-Feed the child."

We've been givena sacred trust, Stijn.

And the means to fulfill it.

Take the painting to Groningen.

See what you can get for it.

We'll be needingthe money soon.

Saskia.

Sell the painting.

MAN:Where did you get this?

SASKIA:It was given to me.

Do you know whoJohannes Vermeer is?

No, sir.

24 gilders.

They offeredonly three gilders.

Three gilders.

Meat and cheese could bepurchased for three gilders.

The man who did the painting'sname was Vermeer.

Johannes Vermeer.

He's famous, Stijn.

And yet you were only offeredthree gilders.

Just as well, then.

If he's famous,it'll fetch more in Amsterdam.

Don't be longabout it.

How many more potatoes?

Almost a barrel.

Leave the seed potatoes, Saskia.

I know, Stijn.

Are you certainwe can't keep it, Stijn?

Yes.

And so are you.

It's just that there'sso little beauty in this life.

I'm sorry I don'tgrow tulips, Saskia.

I'm sorry we're notmore prosperous.

I am a potato farmer...

like my father before me

and his fatherbefore him.

And you area potato farmer's wife.

Papa said not to touchthe seed potatoes.

These are the eating potatoes.

Set the table, Marta.

Papa will behome soon

and we don't want himto be cross with us.

Meat?

I sold the spice chest.

Not the painting.

No.

Well, there's somegood news, at least.

The sea dike is repaired.

Tomorrow the drainage millswill start up again

and next week thewater board will allow

each landowner one dayfree of dike work.

Will our land come back, Papa?

It never went anywhere, Piet.

It's still theredown under all the water.

Before long you'll beplaying and running

all over the farm justlike you used to, son.

I'll be in the barn, then.

-(yelling
-No...!

No! No!

How could you?

How could you?

Every farm wife knows

you never touchthe seed potatoes.

There's only aquarter barrel left.

Not enough to seedmore than a few rows.

We are ruined, Saskia.

A man's seed potatoesare his future.

They were us.

This family.

Nothing more?

Stijn...

we're nothing morethan seed potatoes?

That's all God wants for us?

Work and more work?

Row upon rowof potatoes?

I need more, Stijn.

We need more.

Tomorrow, I'll take the childrento Westerbork.

They can staywith my mother and father

while I go to Amsterdam.

Then we will have moneyfor... seed potatoes.

FATHER:"The King ridesthrough the water.

The King ridesthrough the stars."

Now what do youthink of that?

I don't think I've everbeheld a painting

quite so beautiful.

I call itMorningshine.

Yes.

Yes, I see.

But the seedpotatoes, Saskia.

You know better.

Yes, I know.

But may we stay for a whileuntil he gets over it?

It's so lovely here.

No.

No, tomorrow yougo to Amsterdam

where you will sell thismost beautiful painting.

You can return forthe children afterward.

And there's something elseyou should do.

You should get down

on your knees and thank the Lord

you have a manas hardworking as your Stijn.

I'm not sure he... finds mebeautiful anymore.

Before the childrenhe used to...

Now he worksuntil he's exhausted...

until sometimes, when he's done,there's nothing left.

Have we taught you nothing,daughter?

Such work is love made plain

and you're a foolif you don't recognize that.

The child's the blessing,not the painting.

Stunning. Magnificent.

Look at the window glass...smooth as liquid light.

And the basket--

tiny grooves of brushstrokesto show its texture.

It's a Vermeer.

Well, of courseit is, dear woman.

I can offer you75 gilders.

A beautiful flowerfor a beautiful lady?

Yes.

Five of your freshesthyacinths.

Not six?

No, five.

One for each memberof my family.

CORNELIA:While superstition

had served Aletta Pieters wellthroughout her childhood

a new age of rational thoughtwas approaching.

There she stands.

Get her.

-Stop, stop, girl!

Oh, no.

Stop, girl.

Got you...

Help me, Rika.

Come on.

Don't let them take me.

I meant no harm.

Here you go.

Now who's afraid, huh?

Tell me that.

Cursed you'll befor this

Herbert de Hals,mark my words.

This will bethe voyage

Come on!that drags you to thebottom of the sea.

Your eyeswill be

devoured by fishes

Quiet!before you reachthe shores of Africa.

Well...

-Let me go...

The wench needs tobe taught a lesson.

One night in the stocksought to do it.

Use your powersthen, witch.

Use your magicto set yourself free.

Witch!

Yeah, show usyour magic...

And what did you do tothe good people of Delfzijl

that you deserve the stocks?

Wouldn't you like to know.

Yes, I would.

Come closer then,student, and I'll tell you.

You best not tarrywith her, lad

if you want things to gowell for you in this town.

A pack of baggageis what she is.

No spitting.

Come closer.

I'll whisper my crime.

-(whispers
-Closer.

-(whispers
-Closer.

There, now.

You've been givena wet kiss

from the famous

Wild Witchof Delfzijl.

Shameless wench.

Good-bye,student.

RIKA:Aletta?

Now where has thatgirl gone off to?

Good morning, nephew.

-Good morning,
-Aunt Rika.

What time is it?

Oh, you've slept away mostof the morning, dear boy.

Is that why you left theuniversity, then, hmm?

You were tossedout for laziness?

I left of my own volition, Aunt.

As you well know.

Well, if that'syour story...

I don't suppose you've seenan insolent servant girl

who's nearly as lazyas you are

skulking about,have you?

I saw one such yesterdayafternoon in the stocks.

Yes, the same.

I'll have her bring yousomething to eat

if I can resist the temptationto skin her alive

when I find her.

Aletta?

What was the poorgirl pilloried for?

"Poor girl,"indeed!

She nearly frightenedyour uncle to death.

In the middle of the night

she hid outsidehis bedroom window

caused the curtains to moveand made moaning sounds.

Convinced Herbert thathis bedroom was haunted

by the spiritsof dead Africans.

He shipped for the DarkContinent yesterday

full of terrors

and believing thatthat girl had cursed him.

Well, I hardly think a servantcan be held responsible

for a slaver'sguilty conscience, Aunt.

Your uncle is alegitimate trader.

Yeah, and weboth knowwhat he trades in.

Silks and spices...

And human souls.

Profitable ventures, all

from the look of things,dear aunt.

You weren't tossedout of the university

for laziness,but for insolence.

Aletta?

Hello again.

And now your kiss hasbeen returned, witch.

Master de Koonig?

I have arrived.

So I see.

And whoare you?

Adrian Kuypers, from theuniversity in Groningen.

Ah, you are the young manwho is tired

of dusty old books

and the wisdomof ancient philosophers.

I believe that sciencecan master nature

for the benefit of mankind.

-Well,there's your science,
-Adrian Kuypers.

34 teeth

connected to the screw

and 28 stavesconnected to the shaft

is all that keepsour land above water.

But Master, if the headwere made of 56 staves

would it not displace watertwice as fast?

Excellent idea.

Except it would require

twice the wind powerto turn the screw.

In any case,what you're witnessing

is merely one elementof nature controlling another.

You and I don'tcontrol anything.

We are inconsequentialgrains of sand.

What are you doing?

Get down!

I saw a stork herelast week.

Storks are good luck,you know.

If one nests on your roof,it means you'll be rich.

And if it eats out of your hand,you'll never go hungry.

Old-fashionedsuperstition.

We're at the dawn ofa new, rational age.

Bridges and dikes andlocks and drainage pumps--

they're allone big machine

perfectly synchronizedfor the good of everyone.

It doesn't matter.

When the waterwolf wantsto come over the dikes, he will.

There's no such thingas a waterwolf, Aletta.

Any more thanthere are witches.

The childrencall you a witch.

Does that make you one?

Maybe.

Anyway, their beliefthat I am

is the only protectionI have against them.

Yes, and they'llgrow up irrational

thinking storksbring good luck.

We are ourown luck, Aletta.

And superstition is the enemyof the rational mind.

Are all studentsas silly as you?

So, nephew...

have you found employment?

Is this what you're celebrating?

I have,indeed, Aunt.

Master de Koonig has agreedto take me on

as his assistantat the drainage facility.

Well...

you best mind yourselfwith that girl

in any case.

Attend me, nephew.

This is a respectable house,and I will not be shamed.

If you get mixed upwith that girl

you'll be looking foranother aunt to house you.

You have my word, Aunt.

My behavior in this housewill be exemplary.

In this house.

I'll startto show soon.

Are you certain, then?

You should marryme, student.

Soon.

When my positionat the mill is secure.

The waterwolfis growing bold.

We'll have no talkof waterwolves.

I should not have let youtake that, Aletta.

She won't miss it.

Do you think there'sreally a place like that

where girls like herlive so peacefully

just sitting by an open window?

That would be heaven.

So, has sherun off then?

It's just as well.

If she had the child here...

the town elders would not restuntil the father was named.

She'd die first.

I think you may be right.

But then,a young man

who was fool enough

to get Aletta Pieters with child

just might befool enough

to stand upand name himself?

That would be the end of him.

I fear you give himtoo much credit, Aunt.

Aletta, please,let me fetcha midwife!

No! They'll report it.

But...

Aletta!

Do as I say, student!

I see something...

Its head, I think.

Look, Aletta.

Set it down, Adrian!

Ready yourself!

I don't understand.

There's another!

I must go.

All the village menare being summoned

to fortify the sea dike.

They say that those that don'twill be thrown in jail.

Bring me the boy.

And the little girl?

She's sickly.

The milk squirts from her nosewhen she sucks.

Besides

she bears the markof the evil one on her lip.

She's ours as muchas the other.

She'll be taunted,jeered at all her life.

She'll turn mean and wildand she'll die of loneliness.

Trust me, I know.

Let's go!

Go! Go!

Move, move!

Faster, Johann, faster!

Faster, Johann, faster!

Breathe a wordof this, student

and they'll stretchmy neck.

Nephew

the wind iscoming up again.

You should eat more.

You'll need your strength

if you are to work the dikesagain tonight.

Aletta Pieters has murderedher newborn infant.

Tried to bury itout back of thechurch, she did.

No! Help!

Help!

Don't let them take me!

She had the markof the evil one!

Don't let them hang me!

I beg you!

Please!

No one even suspects you exist.

The dike! The dike!

It's giving way!

Hurry up!

Help us! Help him!

You're a fine lad.

Far better thanthe likes of her.

Have you comefor your painting, Aunt?

You may have it.

But not my son.

Must you claim this childas your own?

You thinkI would leave my son

to the good peopleof Delfzijl?

Shh-shh.

Will you go backto the university then?

Can an inconsequentialgrain of sand learn, Aunt?

I've been arrogant and foolish.

I've recognizedthe ignorance of others

but not my own.

What you have been, dear boy,

is young.

I want you to takethis painting.

I know she loved it.

I could never lookat it again.

Thank you, Aunt.

Ladies and gentlemen,please, please.

Next a painting of anunknown girl in hyacinth blue

who paused in her sewingto look out the window.

Magdalena.

Did someone speak?

Magdalena.

Her name is Magdalena.

Magdalena, we are informed.

Done in the style of Vermeer

though generally believedto be by Frans Hals...

-Vermeer.

It is a Vermeer.

It is a Vermeer.

We are informed

it is a Vermeer.

Shall we start the biddingat ten gilders

for the girl in hyacinth blue

whose name may

or may not beMagdalena

which mayor may not have been

painted by Vermeer?

Ten.

Twelve.

Fifteen.

Seventeen.

Twenty.

Twenty-two.

Twenty-four!

24 gilders I am bid.

Twenty-seven.

27 gilders.

Anyone else?

Sold to the gentlemanover there.

Thank you, sir.

Magdalena's only hope now wasthat she would be marveled at

and maybe even loved

by viewersof her father's painting.

Francis! Henry!

Look what you've done.

You've broken Papa's easel.

Now you've awakened the baby.

Come on. Let's go.

Willem.

What do you want?

Do you know when your motheris returning from Breda?

My mother don't want you around.

Mother says a man whocan't keep his family

in bread and shoes

has no businesswith a pregnant wife.

Your mother hasa great many opinions, mmm?

What, uh....what are you working on, Willem?

Vermeer...

you think she's goingto give you money,

but you're wrong.

What makes you think so?

Because she promised meshe wouldn't.

Do you knowwhat she promised me?

She promised that if you evergo near your sister again

she'll have you put away.

Magdalena?!

Magdalena,go to the window.

Shh.

Is he out there?

No, Mother.

Are you sure?

Shh.

I thought I saw him

lurking in a doorwaynear the market.

I'm seeing himeven when he isn't there.

Did you pay the baker?

I never got there.

I became too frightened.

I could go.

Be careful.

It's all we have.

Shh... shh...

Mother?

What's wrongwith Uncle Will?

Why does he try to hurt you?

Willem has never beenright in his head

not even when we were children.

And he doesn't want meto have any more babies.

He thinks your grandmother

will divide her wealthamong all of us.

So every timethere's another child

he thinks his sharegets smaller.

Mother...

my chores are done.

Can I stop at the wallon my way back?

No. Come right home.

Magda?

No more than an hour.

I promise.

Magda?

What is it you see there?

The whole world, Mother.

-Hey, you there... girl!

Come over here.

Thought you'd sneak by me,didn't you?

Four gilders.

Over a hundred yourfather still owes me.

-It's mine.
-You've no right to it.

It's worthless,as I might have guessed.

Magdalena.

The four gilderswere for you.

Tell him he can pay mewith a painting.

He paid you witha painting last year.

And a fine painting.

Mother sayshe's very foolish

spending moneyon paint and canvas

when there's no breadand so many mouths to feed.

Have you asked him yet?

To teach you?

No.

-But when the time is right,
-I will.

Maria...

will you loan me 200 gilders

against the saleof my next painting?

My son-in-law, the beggar.

My mother-in-law,the patron of the arts.

I promised WillemI would loan you no more.

So he informs me.

How much do youowe me already, huh?

How much do you oweme?

I? Owe you?

Who do you send for

every time Willemgets in trouble?

When he drops his trousersin the convent courtyard?

When he goes on one ofhis drunken rampages?

Who is it that's kept himout of jail, Maria?

Exactly how manyhundreds of gilders

do you suppose this serviceto be worth, Johannes?

At the moment, 200.

I will consider the loan...

but only becauseCatherine is with child.

A handsome pitcher.

Have you anotheryou could use for a while?

Dear Lord, a lunatic son...a lunatic son-in-law.

Yes, take it.

And the cloth?

Oh... yes, yes.

Oh, just go, Johannes!

-Father! Father!
-Come quickly!

It's Uncle Willem!

I will kill you!

Hurry, Johannes!

No! Stop!

Please, Uncle Willem!

No! stop!

Please stop!

And where haveyou been, girl?

At the wall.

Mother said I could go.

This might not have happenedif you had been here.

Come here.

The time has cometo stop dreaming, daughter.

Time to see thingsthe way they are

not the way youwant them to be.

She has lostthe baby, then?

The choice is yours,mother-in-law.

Summon the magistrates

and have himthrown in prison

or confine himin a private institution!

The private.

I'll make the arrangements.

He's my son, Johannes.

I will nothave you

raise your hand against him.

How are youthen, Johannes?

I've been giventhe opportunity

to enter the caffa cloth trade.

I think maybe I will.

You have otherobligations, you know.

I've not forgottenhow much I owe you.

I was referring to theobligation to your talent.

Does the world reallyneed another painting

of a woman alone in a room?

The world doesn'tknow what it needs.

It never has.

-I bread, and you paint.

You also have a duty

-to your daughter,
-Magdalena, do you not?

She loves you, Johannes,and she wants to learn.

Surely, you've noticed.

Has she asked you yet?

I'm sorry, Magdalena,for what I said.

None of what happenedwas your fault.

I have a present foryou, from the baker.

He also said you have a questionyou want to ask me.

No, Father.

Stay still.

Don't move, Magdalena.

No, not at me.

Look out the windowat the world you love.

-It's a remarkable painting,
-Cornelia,

and a remarkable story.

But?

You make a compelling case,though I don't have to tell you

that much of it rests onspeculation, conjecture,

and that's not eventaking into account

the real problem,which is the gap.

You know what I'm talkingabout, don't you, Cornelia?

Because even if we concedethe accuracy of your history

it leaves out theone thing necessary

to establish provenance.

It doesn't explainhow that painting

comes to be herein this room.

You think I haven't anticipatedthis question?

You think I haven'tboth feared and longed

for someone to ask it?

All right, then.

I will tell you one more story.

Once upon a time

in Amsterdamduring the German occupation

there lived a familywho owned pigeons.

They were against the law,of course, pigeons.

Isn't thatthe most astonishing thing--

that a bird should beagainst the law?

Did I mention they were Jews,this family?

Look, Papa,there's Leo.

Hey, you'reright, Tobias.

That's exactly who it is.

Did he bring a message?

Mm-hmm.

Here you go.

What does it say?

It says...

All is well with your uncleand cousins in Antwerp.

How about that?

That's pretty good news,isn't it?

There you go.

Papa?

Isn't that too much?

Isn't Leo going to get sick?

No, tonight we'll let him eatto his heart's content.

In fact, since it's Passover

why don't we give Leoand his friends their freedom?

What do you think?

You rememberthe Passover story, right?

A night differentfrom all other nights?

But where will Leo live?

In the air.

Who will feed him?

Everybody.

The world's full of good people.

What do you think,young lady?

There's no workto be done?

Besides cleaningthis kitchen

there's a mealto prepare.

And who's going to boilthe silverware?

Why don't you helpyour mother?

I don't want to.

Any news?

From Antwerp, yes.

It's as we suspected there.

But...

what's news anyway, huh?

Mere gossip.

We must have faiththis day of all days.

Hannah, will you at leastgo to the grocer's

for the parsleyand the egg.

And the butcher--he's saving usa nice shank bone.

What does it matter?

Matter?

What does that mean, "matter"?

You said yourself, Papa.

Big things happeningin the world.

Yes, big thingsare happening.

-Tonight, for instance,
-Passover is happening.

Bigger things than Passover.

Everyone is saying so.

Big things,little things...

What is important and whatis not is foryou to decide.

You understandwhat I'm saying to you?

-(whispers
-Good.

That's enough now.

They're clean.

Who can this be?

-Let's go. Let's go.
-Come on.

In the room ...u...

-This way.
-Put them in here.

I'll go checkupstairs.

Pigeons everywhere.

Keep moving.

Is this possible, then?

The Delft light?

Lion-head finials on the chairs.

And...

the tapestry on the table.

All Vermeer.

You may come out now.

Do you hear me, little boy?

So...

do you miss your pigeons?

Would you like

to come along with me?

What happenedto the boy?

My father...

took him to the trains,

and the trains took himto the camps.

Do you know whathe's ashamed of-- my father?

If not that,then I can't imagine.

That he never rose higherin the ranks.

You could give it up, you know

put it in a museum.

He's my father.

Well, good-bye, Cornelia.

I see I was wrong about you.

Hmm.

You call yourself an artist?

You're just as blinded

by conventional moralityas the rest.

"Conventional morality"?

Yes, I suppose that I am.

You have no rightto judge us.

We saved that painting,my father and I.

We'd have given our livesfor it, gladly.

Wehave given our lives for it.

Do you knowwhat such devotion is called?

Such sacrifice?

Well, I'll tell you.

It's called love.

Richard!

It's not oneof their better faculty houses

but it would give youa studio.

-Oh, thanks, Adam.
-I think I'll pass.

Suit yourself.

Does feel haunted, I admit.

Imagine, packing up

and leavingin the middle of the night.

Not a word to anyone.

And you're sayingthat she had a Vermeer?

Right.

Should we call the authorities?

They should be punished.

No, their lives are punishmentenough, I should think.

What aboutthe painting?

Oh...

I wouldn't worry too muchabout the painting.

It's inspiredseveral of its previous owners

to finally let it go.

I don't think Corneliawill be any different.

So, youreally thinkit's authentic?

Well, I can'tbe sure

but I think it is, yeah.

So...

it's still out there, then.

Somewhere.

A Vermeerthat nobody knows about.

I just can't seemto get it out of my mind.

And I don't think I want to.

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