Cartesius Page #13

---

Father Mersenne asked me

to call on you to collect

your new treatise that

you had promised him to...

I haven't finished it sir,

tell Father Mersenne...

Tell Father Mersenne that I'm working

day and night on the new text,

and that on a coming occasion, before

Christmas I hope, I'll send it to him.

Good bye Gentlemen

Oh good God!

Oh, no. Do you already

want me to get up?

The hours of the morning

are worth gold.

It's frightening.

I don't understand what are you looking

for in the innards of animals?

You do know that making

magic is forbidden?

It's a mortal sin.

I'm not making magic, don't worry.

What then?

You're always doing strange things, but

remember that one sin attracts another.

Really, why did you take

me into your service,

to drive me crazy with your mess?

I've never seen you so angry.

Turn round, I want to get up.

When pushed to the extreme,

patience becomes fury.

This house is too small for you - you

look like a crane in a pigeon loft,

you've filled everywhere with a thousand

pieces of paper and strange instruments,

a man of your standing

and in your condition

who lives like the lowest tramp,

nobility can be little appreciated

without refinement.

You complain of what

poor Bretaigne did.

Any way it's useless, he who talks

sows and he who listens reaps.

Should reap.

I'm sorry that Bretaigne is dead,

not to have him with me any more.

A stroke of the tongue is

worse than a blow from a lance.

Bretaigne never got

so angry as you do,

but you are certainly prettier...

I'm not angry at all, the moon

never worries about a barking dog,

but Bretaigne was right

to grumble at you

because in the end, talking about

your troubles is already consolation.

Are you philosophising?

Philosophy?

What is philosophy?

I am a philosopher, I love wisdom.

You? You are mad, I 'm wise.

Maybe.

We need a larger house,

you're right there, Elena.

In that way you won't be troubled when

I dedicate myself to certain works.

Good save our poor hens, when a sly

old fox starts giving moral lessons.

No Elena, I'm talking seriously,

we'll live at Amsterdam.

Once you've given your word,

you can't take it back. Remember,

that he who promises

has an obligation.

The wisest man yields.

Do you forgive me?

Admiral Potterbacker

and general Van Eyck,

two tulips that today are worth

four-thousand-four-hundred

Florins each.

Really?

My lady succeeded in procuring an

extremely precious bulb for herself,

its the ''Semper augustus'' - she paid

five-thousand-five-hundred Florins

but it's the most beautiful

tulip in the world,

she could re-sell it immediately for

six thousand Florins or even more.

Your Lady is rich and those

who have money, have courage.

Have you ever seen it bloom?

No, not yet, but in my

Lady's colour album,

it's painted so well

that it seems real.

The flower-cup is a beautiful pure white,

slightly tinged with blue at the base,

with a strip of flame red that

runs along each petal, a wonder.

I could never buy such patterns,

they're too expensive for me.

If you hadn't shown them to me,

I would know very little about tulips.

I'm telling you , even though

I know it's completely useless,

that you don't want

to risk even one Florin.

People with nothing like

me cannot take risks.

You're losing a fortune

by being too prudent.

Our farrier, Jacob Darik,

remember him,

went up to his knees in debt

to buy the general of generals.

If he did so, that means he's sure

of good earnings, isn't that right?

And Mr Gut has sold his

house for five rare bulbs

and he is someone who

understands good deals.

Yes, but I'm a housewife.

And you know now, don't you,

that painter Jan Van Goyen,

has himself paid in

bulbs for his pictures

rather than in Florins?

My grandfather told me

that his father,

just like everyone else at the time

paid for purchases with herrings,

that really was a safe currency,

because it fed people,

but this mania for tulips

is really silly.

Oh, you are silly.

Everyone speculates in them, especially the

great gentlemen who know what they're doing.

In fact, it's the king of France

who makes the largest requests.

Oh, may God forgive me, I 'm late,

I've got to run away.

Thank you dear.

Oh listen up a little, how much

could my red-yellow be worth today.

Be happy, a lot, no less than

two-thousand-five-hundred Florins.

I'll go and open.

No, you've got dirty hands,

I'll go and open.

It's true that you can't

eat tulips, but their beauty

is very valuable today.

We all know that a good plumage

makes a beautiful bird.

Who do you desire?

I'm Janmaire, the printer,

Mr Descartes had me called.

Come in.

Your clothes have an

unbearable odour.

They are the odours of my craft,

aniline and the lead of the inks,

I'm very sorry, do you feel ill?

It's nothing.

Wait a minute.

- The printer.

- Let him enter.

Come in.

Hello sir, I've come

to give you my reply,

I agree, I will print

your treatise.

I thank you, I hope to finish

it in the next few days.

- Elena!

- It's your odour, excuse me.

We need a little vinegar

to get her back on her feet.

It's easier to advise than to act.

Jan, Jan.

- Sir.

- Go and call Dr Plempius.

- Run.

- Ok.

- I have examined the patient.

- What did you find?

The patient is well , very well I'd say.

And so? How do you

explain the fainting?

I don't know if you will

judge the news to be good or bad,

but the patient has no illness.

I don't understand.

She's expecting a child.

- A child?

- Yes, a child.

Elena.

You shouldn't be ashamed.

This is the most beautiful

present you could've given me.

Don't be afraid.

I'll never abandon you.

After the damage the

madman recovers his wits.

Rest.

Thank you.

Tranquility is born of sleep.

Come, come into my study.

I thank you for hurrying

straightaway doctor,

and above all for telling me the

good news that I'll be a father.

Jan, some wine.

A child, my good doctor,

merits a good glass of wine.

Do me this honour.

- Do you acknowledge the child?

- Certainly.

Even though I would like the thing

to remain a secret, for the moment.

Not because of shame, but

only because, as you know,

I fear everything that may

disturb my tranquility.

Will you keep the

mother with you?

I'll write to my friend Reigne

at Dventer and I'll ask him

to find a discreet refuge,

so that Elena can wait all the

months necessary, in peace.

If you need any care during

these days, I'll be available.

I would only trust you.

I admire your ability as a doctor

very much, even if I confess

I don't share your

criticisms of Dr Harvey.

Why can't Dr Harvey be wrong?

Excuse me, but I really can't

understand that with your knowledge

of human physiology,

he has not convinced you

of the evidence of his doctrine.

Blood circulation

driven by pulses

would lead to suppose

that for every pulsation

the heart receives a drop of blood,

but considering that there are around

two thousand pulses every hour,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes