The Moon and the Sun

“—about the other matter,” she said. “Has His Majesty set the time of the next dissection? Please, tell me.”

“His Majesty desires your brother to concentrate his efforts upon… the other matter. But inasmuch as his time allows, M. de la Croix may conduct the dissection when His Majesty is not present.”

“Thank you, Count Lucien.”

“I’ll convey your gratitude to His Majesty.”

“You see?—I didn’t ask too much of you, after all.”

“I’d gladly take credit if I deserved it. The decision rested completely with His Majesty. But, Mlle de la Croix, have I asked too much of you?”

“In what way?”

“The submission for His Majesty’s medal.”

“It’s nearly finished.” I’m not lying, she thought, hiding her dismay. Not exactly lying. The dissection sketches have prepared me to draw a proper likeness of the living sea monster.

“When may I have it?”

“Tomorrow. I promise.”

“Very well.”

“Sir, may I beg a favor of you? A word of advice? It will take a moment of your time, no more.”

“Certainly.”

“Before I entered the convent—” She stopped, and waved her words away; Count Lucien had no time to spare for her history. “I would like to resume a correspondence…” She hesitated, afraid he might laugh at her presumption.

“With an admirer?” He smiled, in a kindly fashion. “Secret letters?”

“Certainly not, sir! It would be improper—my brother wouldn’t approve. I corresponded about optics, and the laws of motion, and asked a few ignorant questions about the nature of gravity. I only want to know who to give the letter to, so M. Newton will receive it.”

“M. Newton,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“The Englishman.”

“The mathematician and philosopher.”

Count Lucien chuckled. Marie-Josèphe blushed.

“I’m sorry you think it absurd, that a mere woman dare approach a man of—”

“I don’t think it absurd at all.” He shook his head. “If your brother’s reaction to an admirer concerns you, you’d not wish to witness His Majesty’s reaction to an English correspondent. No matter how learned.”

“It’s only a letter about a curious mathematical problem.”

“Mlle de la Croix. By writing to M. Newton, you’d put yourself in danger. I have no doubt you’d put M. Newton in danger as well. We are at war with England. Do you trust a censor to understand your curious mathematical problem? More likely, he’d judge your letter to be in cipher, and your M. Newton to be a spy.”

“As the nuns judged me to be writing spells,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing. I’d never wish to put M. Newton in danger. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize…”

“You should never have to,” he said, with sympathy. “It would be better if we weren’t at war, if you could carry on your correspondence without concern. I regret to tell you, it isn’t possible.”

“Thank you for your good advice,” she said, downcast.

“Pardon me, I must take my leave.”

“Count Lucien…”

He glanced back.

“Will my letter to Mynheer van Leeuwenhoek cause any difficulty for him?”

Count Lucien gave her a long look of disbelief, listened to her explanation of dashing off her request and entrusting it to an officer of the ship from Martinique, told her that he hoped the letter might have been lost, and said he would see if anything could be done.

In response to her thanks, Count Lucien bowed and left the makeshift room.

Marie-Josèphe stared at the laboratory table, distressed, grateful to Count Lucien for saving her from another misstep, angry that an innocent exchange of knowledge might be considered treason.

A cheer rose outside. Marie-Josèphe peeked out, expecting to see the visitors salute Count Lucien, who so often dispensed the King’s alms. But the count had already ridden away. Instead, the visitors crowded around the sea monster’s cage, cheering again in response to a splash and a trill of song.

The sea monster’s song, such a constant sound that she hardly noticed it while she was working, had been going on for some time. So had the applause.

The sea monster is showing herself to the visitors! Marie-Josèphe thought, delight overshadowing her distress. I’ve succeeded in gentling her, she’s no longer frightened of people.

She wanted to show off the sea monster’s trick of coming when she was called, but she could not delay telling her brother Count Lucien’s good news. She stepped out of the laboratory tent.

The sun had reached its zenith. If she did not hurry, she would be late to help Mademoiselle dress for His Majesty’s picnic at the Menagerie. She ran out of the tent and hurried up the Green Carpet, passing groups of people strolling down the slope toward the Fountain of Apollo and the sea monster.

12

By the time Marie-Josèphe reached Mademoiselle’s apartments, she was out of breath and damp with sweat. She hesitated in the cold shadows of the corridor until her breathing eased, then indicated her presence by tapping her fingernails on the door.

“Marie-Josèphe!”

Lotte ducked from beneath Mlle d’Armagnac’s attempt to rearrange her hair and emerged from the bright crowd of ladies-in-waiting and friends. She raised Marie-Josèphe from her curtsy.