She acknowledged the gardeners, thinking, of course they must work at night; His Majesty should see his gardens only in a state of perfection.
They took up the cart again; its wheels crunched on the gravel. When His Majesty took his afternoon walk, fresh trees, their blossoms forced in the greenhouse, would greet him. His Majesty’s gaze would touch only beauty.
Marie-Josèphe hurried to the sea monster’s tent. The lantern inside had gone out; the torch outside illuminated only the entry curtain and its gold sunburst.
“Say a prayer before you go in!” said the musketeer corporal.
“An incantation!”
“He means an exorcism.”
“There isn’t any demon,” Yves said.
“We heard it.”
“Flapping its wings.”
“Wings like leather.”
Yves grabbed the torch, flung aside the curtain, and strode into the tent. Out of breath from running, Marie-Josèphe slipped past the musketeers and followed her brother.
The tent looked as they had left it, the equipment all in place, melted ice dripping softly to the plank floor, the cage surrounding the fountain. The odor of dead fish and preserving spirits hung in the air. Marie-Josèphe supposed the guards might have mistaken the unpleasant smells for brimstone.
She believed in demons—she believed in God, and in angels, so how could she not believe in Satan and demons?—but she thought, in these modern days, demons did not often choose to visit the earthly world. Even if they did, why should a demon visit a sea monster, any more than it would visit His Majesty’s elephant or His Majesty’s baboons?
Marie-Josèphe giggled, thinking of a demon on a picnic in His Majesty’s Menagerie.
Her laughter brought her to Yves’ attention.
“What are you laughing at?” he said. “You should be in bed.”
“I wish I were,” Marie-Josèphe said.
“Superstitious fools,” Yves muttered. “Demons, indeed.”
The torchlight reflected from a splash of water on the polished planks.
“Yves—”
A watery trail led from the fountain to the cluster of lab equipment. The gate of the cage hung open.
Yves cursed and hurried to the dissection table. Marie-Josèphe ran into the cage.
The sea monster floated a few strokes from the platform, its hair spreading around its shoulders. Its eyes reflected the torchlight, uncanny as a cat’s. It hummed softly, eerily.
“Yves, it’s here, it’s safe, it’s all right.”
“Stay there—There’s broken glass. Are you barefoot?”
“Are you?”
Shards of glass flung sharp sounds as Yves swept them into a pile.
“My feet are like leather—we never wore shoes on the galleon.”
He joined her in the cage, holding the torch out over the water. A spark fell and sizzled. The sea monster spat at it, whistled angrily, and dove.
“It slithered around out here. It climbed the stairs! I didn’t think it could make progress on land. It knocked a flask over, it fled back to the fountain… I must have left the gate ajar.”
“You tested it,” Marie-Josèphe said. “You latched it and rattled it.”
He shrugged. “I couldn’t have. Tomorrow I’ll get a chain.”
Yves sat abruptly. He slumped forward, his head down, hair hanging in rumpled black curls. Marie-Josèphe snatched the torch before it fell. Concerned, she sat beside her brother and put her arm around his shoulder.
He patted her hand. “I’m only tired,” he said.
“You work so hard,” Marie-Josèphe said. “Let me help you.”
“That wouldn’t be proper.”
“I was a good assistant when we were children—I’m no less able now.”
She feared he would refuse, and that would be the end of it. I no longer know my brother, she thought, distressed. I no longer know what he’ll say, what he’ll do, before he knows it himself.
He raised his head, frowned, hesitated. “What about your duties to Mademoiselle?”
Marie-Josèphe giggled. “Sometimes I hold her handkerchief, if Mlle d’Armagnac doesn’t snatch it first. She’d hardly notice I was gone. I need only tell her you need me—so your work might please the King…”
His brow cleared. “I’d be grateful for your help. You haven’t become squeamish, have you?”
“Squeamish!” She laughed.
“Will you document the dissection?”
“I’d like nothing better.”
“The dissection will occupy my time. Will you take the charge of the live sea monster? Feed it—”
“Yes. And I’ll tame it, too.”
“You’ll need all your ingenuity to persuade it to eat.” His beautiful smile erased the exhaustion from his face. “I’m certain you’ll succeed. You were better with the live things than I ever was.”
Delighted to be part of his life, part of his work, once again, Marie-Josèphe kissed his cheek.
Yawning, he pushed himself to his feet. “There’s time still for a bit of sleep.” His smile turned wry. “Not even the Jesuits reconciled me to waking early.”
“I’ll take that duty, too,” Marie-Josèphe said. “I’ll wake you in time to attend the King.”
“That would be a considerable kindness,” Yves said.
He ushered Marie-Josèphe out of the cage, closed the gate, and latched it and rattled it just as he had done earlier in the evening. The sea monster’s lament followed them.
“Oh!” Marie-Josèphe jumped back from something cold and slimy beneath her foot.
“What is it—did you step on glass?”
She picked up a dead fish.
“Your sea monster doesn’t like its fish.”
4
Marie-Josèphe walked through the silent dawn gardens of Versailles. At first light, the gardeners had vanished but the courtiers still slept and the visitors had not yet arrived. She was alone in the beauty, surrounded by flowers, perfumed by a cloud of orange perfume.
She strode down the Green Carpet toward Apollo, planning her day. She would feed the sea monster, then return to the chateau in plenty of time to wake Yves and break their fast with bread and chocolate. He would attend His Majesty’s awakening. She could not accompany him, because women did not participate in the grand lever. Instead, she would wait for him in the guard room with the other ladies and the less-favored men, and join the procession to Mass.
The morning delighted her. The world delighted her. When she kicked a small stone down the path, she thought, with a few strokes of my pen, with a calculation, I can describe the motion of its rise and fall. I can predict its effect on the next stone, and the next. M. Newton’s discoveries allow me to describe anything I wish, even the future paths of the stars and the planets. And now that I am free of the convent, no one will forbid me to do so.
A breeze rustled the leaves of the potted orange trees. Marie-Josèphe considered how to predict the fluttering motion, and though the solution eluded her for the moment, she felt certain she could discover it with some time and consideration.
M. Newton must have solved such a simple problem, she thought. Dare I write to him again? Would he bother to reply at all, when he condescended to communicate with me once, and I failed to answer? I wish I had seen the contents of his letter.
The chateau of Versailles stood on a low hill; the Green Carpet led downward to the sea monster’s tent.
A much easier walk than last night! she thought. She wore her riding habit, more practical and easier to walk in than court dress.
As she neared the laboratory tent, a half-dozen heavy wagons rumbled along the Queen’s Road toward the fountain. Barrels weighed each one down.