The Moon and the Sun

A ripple moved through the fountain. The sea monster’s long dark hair streamed behind her, protecting her back from the sun, disguising her glowing copper skin. Marie-Josèphe took the fish from the net and held it in her hand.

The sea monster hesitated.

“Good sea monster. Come a little closer, come have your fish.”

“Fishhh!” the sea monster said.

The sea monster surfaced. Marie-Josèphe offered her the fish. She snatched it and gobbled it messily in several bites. Fish guts and bits of fin dribbled into the water.

The audience gasped and murmured in awe and surprise and disgust. Startled, the sea monster slipped back beneath the water. Marie-Josèphe hoped that in the time she had she could train the sea monster not to fear the noise. His Majesty would want to view the creature again; he would want to show off his quarry to the visiting heads of state. He would want the sea monster to be well-behaved.

“It’s all right, sea monster,” Marie-Josèphe said. “The noise means nothing, no more than waves on a beach. It won’t hurt you. Come, let me feed you another fish.”

If I wish her to trust me, I must trust her, Marie-Josèphe said to herself.

Marie-Josèphe dipped her hand into the water. The sea monster swam closer, radiating intense warmth.

The sea monster rose suddenly from the pool. Water splashed against the stairs. Her long tangled hair whipped around her bare shoulders, tumbling over her flat breasts. The paler green strand of hair stuck out at an awkward angle.

Visitors gasped and cried out and applauded. The musketeer clattered away to face the visitors, ready to bully or cajole them: The peace of the King’s gardens must not erupt into riot. But instead of fleeing, the visitors pressed closer, fascinated, entertained. The lucky ones peered through the bars of the cage; the rest tried to see over the heads of the front rank.

The sea monster sank back into the water. Marie-Josèphe stroked the creature’s hair. The sea monster suffered her touch. Marie-Josèphe reached back with her free hand; the musketeer handed her a netted fish. She offered the wriggling creature to the sea monster. The sea monster fumbled at the net, failing to extricate the fish.

Marie-Josèphe untwisted the fabric, pulled the fish from the opening, and handed it to the sea monster.

The sea monster ate the fish in two quick bites and looked around for more. Marie-Josèphe continued to feed her, luring her closer, till the sea monster slithered half out of the water and rested her elbows on the platform. The visitors whispered and murmured in awe.

Marie-Josèphe let the sea monster swim away, then called her back and gave her another fish. After three repetitions of the simple command, the sea monster floated just out of Marie-Josèphe’s reach, singing, but coming no closer. Marie-Josèphe imagined that she should be able to understand the song, then chided herself.

I might as well try to understand a mockingbird, she thought.

“Come, sea monster!” she commanded.

The sea monster stopped singing. She snorted and spat and splashed water with her tail from ten feet away. She snarled. She swam no closer.

“You should beat it!” said the musketeer. “Then it would obey.”

“I’d only frighten her,” Marie-Josèphe said. “She’ll not be beaten while she’s in my charge.” She dangled the fish above the water. “Come, sea monster—”

The sea monster kicked a wave toward the platform; it splashed Marie-Josèphe’s shoes and the hem of her riding habit.

The sea monster sang a peremptory phrase, dove, and disappeared.

Why, Marie-Josèphe thought, she’s bored! She’s learned the lesson already, why should she practice it?

Instead of insisting that the sea monster return, Marie-Josèphe let the fish swim free, living prey. But after she had let it loose, she thought, If the sea monster only obeys when she chooses, can I make any claim to have trained it?

The sea monster surfaced, whistling, swimming at a distance. The audience exclaimed. She splashed her tails on the surface. She surged closer to Marie-Josèphe.

Marie-Josèphe rose. “You may have more fish later, if you come when I call.” On a foolish whim she added, “And an extra portion if you show yourself again to the visitors!” She smiled to herself, and thought, If only creatures really were so easy to train.

* * *

Lucien climbed the great stone staircase to Mme de Maintenon’s apartment. Forced blooms glowed with fresh spring colors in gilded pots.

The guard opened one side of the double doors and bowed Lucien through Mme de Maintenon’s doorway.

Mme de Maintenon furnished her apartment as austerely as a cell in a convent. No matter what gifts His Majesty lavished on her, she lived among drab colors. She refused flowers and jewels alike. Even His Majesty’s council table was plain black lacquer with the most moderate gilt and inlay.

Lucien shrugged off the uneasiness that enclosed him in these rooms. He could do nothing about the darkness, the drabness, or Mme de Maintenon’s dislike of him, except to refuse to allow any of it to afflict him.