The Moon and the Sun

Marie-Josèphe hoped no one important would appear at today’s dissection. No member of court had any reason to attend, in His Majesty’s absence. For that, Marie-Josèphe was grateful. She looked so plain and ordinary today. Odelette, in full health again, attended Lotte in Marie-Josèphe’s place, so Marie-Josèphe’s hair remained appallingly undressed. She wore not a bit of lace or ribbon; she did not dare put on another beauty-patch.

As if in compensation, her monthlies had slowed to a fraction of their usual flux. The change worried her, but it was such a relief and she feared physicians so, she put it out of her mind.

Humming the refrain of the sea monster’s cantata, she entered the tent, made her way through the crowd of visitors, entered the cage, and locked the door behind her.

The sea monster lurched up against the fountain’s rim, reaching toward the barrel of live fish. The spectators shouted with amazement.

“Wait, be patient.” Marie-Josèphe scooped the net through the sea water and carried her wriggling prey over the edge of the fountain and down the wooden steps.

What shall I train it to do? she wondered. The creature was remarkably quick to understand her commands.

“Sea monster! Fishhhh! Ask for a fishhhh!”

The sea monster swam back and forth before the steps, diving and flicking her tail, plunging up from the bottom and leaping halfway out of the water, splashing Marie-Josèphe with drops of brackish water.

The sea monster sang the cantata’s refrain.

“What a clever sea monster! I know you can sing, but now you must speak. Say fishhhh.”

“Fishhhh!” the sea monster cried, snarling.

“Oh, excellent sea monster.”

Marie-Josèphe flung a fish. The sea monster snatched it from the air and crunched it neatly with sharp snaps of her teeth. The visitors applauded.

“Now you must come closer, you must take the fish from my hand.”

The sea monster swam to her and took the fish. She held the fish captive between the translucent webs of her long-fingered hand. The sea monster stared straight at Marie-Josèphe, her eyes deep gold.

Deliberately, slowly, she opened her hand and let the live fish free.

“Aren’t you hungry, sea monster?”

One fish remained in the net. Marie-Josèphe dipped the net into the pool.

The sea monster moaned. Her hand crept forward, past the net, and touched Marie-Josèphe’s fingers. Marie-Josèphe stayed still as the sharp claws dimpled her skin, though the sea monster’s strength frightened her.

The sea monster released Marie-Josèphe’s hand. Though the marks of her claws remained, she had not broken Marie-Josèphe’s skin, or even scratched her.

The fish wriggled and splashed. The sea monster snorted and plucked the fish from the net, as Marie-Josèphe had shown her only once.

“Can you leap, will you play?” Marie-Josèphe said, speaking to herself more than to the creature. “If you entertained the King, he might spare you.” She gave the sea monster another fish.

“Fishhh!”

“You are very clever, but His Majesty already has parrots.”

The sea monster splashed away, arched her back, and sank slowly head-first into the water. She waved her webbed toes in the air. Marie-Josèphe laughed along with the visitors. Then the sea monster parted her double tail, exposing her female parts, opening the pink skin like a flower.

Spectators tittered and whispered.

Marie-Josèphe slapped the water.

“No!” she said severely as the sea monster splashed down and surfaced. You’re only a beast, she thought, but even a beast might offend Pope Innocent—or Mme de Maintenon. She remembered, blushing, the time at Saint-Cyr when an adolescent puppy, confused by its animal urges, had mistaken Mme de Maintenon’s ankle for a bitch. Mme de Maintenon had shaken her foot so hard that the poor silly dog, its tongue hanging out, its eyes glazed with its cravings, spun across the room and fetched up against the doorpost.

The sea monster swam to her, singing and snarling, splashing her hand on the water as Marie-Josèphe had done.

“Never mind,” Marie-Josèphe whispered. “I know you don’t understand. I know you don’t mean anything by it.”

Back in Martinique, an old man who lived on the beach used to play with the dolphins. He threw them an inflated pig-bladder and they returned it to him, passing it from one to another as if they were playing tennis.

“Could you play tennis, sea monster?”

The sea monster spat and dived.

The cage door clanged; Yves descended the stairs in one long stride. The sea monster vanished beneath the water, leaving barely a ripple.

“Good morning,” Yves said.

“Isn’t it a glorious day?”

“It is glorious. Your sea monster looks much healthier. Practically sleek.” He smiled at her. “I knew that if anyone could persuade it to feed, you could.”

“She begins to obey me. And to speak.”

“Yes, like a parrot, I know.” Yves glanced away, troubled. “Don’t become too fond of the beast.” He sat on the edge of the fountain. “Don’t make it your pet. I can’t bear to think of your heart broken out of fondness for it.”