The Moon and the Sun

“You’ve drunk nothing all evening, Mlle de la Croix,” Lorraine said. “This will ease your mind from your worries of war and natural philosophy.”

Marie-Josèphe had no need to ease her mind, but she was thirsty, so she accepted the goblet. The red wine reflected light in patterns along the silver rim.

She sipped it, expecting the bitter, watery taste of the convent’s communion wine. Maroon velvet slipped over her tongue. The scent of fruit and flowers filled her nostrils. She sipped again, savoring the taste with her eyes closed. She thought, I could drink this merely by breathing.

When she opened her eyes, Lorraine gazed down at her, charming her with his amused smile.

“You like it,” he said.

“Of course she likes it,” Monsieur said. “It’s a delightful vintage.”

“You’ve given me my first glass of wine,” she said.

“Your first!” Monsieur was horrified.

“How else might I be your first?” Lorraine said softly.

Marie-Josèphe blushed. “You misunderstand me, sir.”

“What did you drink, on your colonial island?” Monsieur asked, peering at her as curiously as if she were one of Yves’ specimens.

“In the convent, sir, we drank small beer, or water.”

“Water!” Monsieur exclaimed. “You are fortunate to have your life.”

“Such delightful innocence,” Lorraine said.

Marie-Josèphe sipped the wine, and glanced up at Lorraine from beneath her eyelashes.

“You flatter me, sir—”

“I? I’m known to speak only the strongest of truths.”

“—and the nuns always warned me against flattery.”

“Ignore my devotion and my admiration, I beg you, Mlle de la Croix. A broken heart will distract me.”

Chartres snorted and downed another glass of wine.

“Ignore his meager wit,” Madame said. “He seeks only to divert himself from the tedium. The nuns would forgive even Lorraine, if they had endured one of His Majesty’s parties.”

“They endured—” Marie-Josèphe hesitated, to steady her voice “—we all endured the silence of the cloister.”

Lorraine bowed to her, and kissed her hand.

“You illuminate court, my dear Mlle de la Croix. As your mother did.”

She drew her hand from his, made self-conscious by Monsieur’s opinion of her skin.

“Come along, my dear Chevalier,” Monsieur said, loudly, heartily. “You must give my brother the King a challenge at billiards.” He took Lorraine’s elbow and guided him around. Chartres followed, stumbling slightly, not only from his lameness. Marie-Josèphe curtsied, but the three men had already turned away.

Lorraine looked over his shoulder and stretched out his hand to her with a pathetic sigh.

Madame seized Marie-Josèphe by the arm.

“If your brother will not save me from boredom, you must!” she said. “Come along, we’ll find a quiet corner.”

“Madame, how can you be bored?”

“How can you not, Mlle de la Croix? Never mind, you’ll understand after you’ve attended a year of these interminable evenings. I’d rather be writing letters, or working on my collections. I do so look forward to Father de la Croix’ medal. I hope it will be very dramatic.”

She found a bench in an alcove by the window and settled into it. She could not offer Marie-Josèphe a seat in her presence in public, even had she wished to, even had the idea occurred to her.

“I can tell you nothing of my brother’s voyage,” Marie-Josèphe said. “I’ve had hardly a minute of his time since he returned.”

“Then you must tell me something else extraordinary—something to write to Raugrafin Sophie, back home.”

“The sea monster sings—just like a bird. And it speaks like a parrot.”

“Does it now! Perhaps you can train it to entertain His Majesty.”

“I could, if I had time, though it’s very fierce. It frightened one of the workmen, and he nearly struck us both.”

“He struck you!”

“No, no, he failed, because Count Lucien—now do not laugh!—stopped the brute.”

“Why would I laugh? M. de Chrétien punished the villain, I hope!”

“Yes. He goes unarmed—but he shielded me with his cane.”

“That is no less than I would expect from someone of Count Lucien’s breeding.”

“Madame… may I ask you something?”

“My dear, you honor me! Even my children never ask my advice—as you might notice, from Chartres’ horrible marriage.”

“I fear it might be indiscreet.”

“Ah, indiscreet? Even better.”

“Is Count Lucien very brave, or is he foolhardy?”

“How, foolhardy?”

“He placed himself, unarmed, between me and the brute. He ignores fashion. And he spoke to His Holiness in such a way—!”

“What use would a sword have been? He could hardly challenge someone of the lower classes, even if His Majesty allowed duels, which he does not. No doubt the assailant realized himself lucky, for Count Lucien could have ordered his servants to thrash the man.”

Madame nodded toward the other corner of the room, where Count Lucien spoke with Mme la marquise de la Fère. The auburn perruke and gold lace of the King’s pet courtier shone in the candlelight.

“As for fashion—how do you find him objectionable?” Madame smiled mischievously. “Mme de la Fère finds him satisfactory, and her taste is impeccable. Perhaps you compare our fashions to those in Martinique?”