“Every subject’s fit for a natural philosopher to study!” The duke de Chartres broke in with the obsessive enthusiasm that earned him annoyance from the court and suspicion from the lower classes. “How else will we ever understand the truth of the world?”
“What is fit for a natural philosopher may trouble the minds of others,” His Majesty said. “Or lead us astray.”
“But the truth —”
“Be quiet, boy!” Madame’s tone was soft but urgent.
Marie-Josèphe felt sorry for Chartres. His position warred with his desire for knowledge. He would be happier if he was, like Marie-Josèphe, no one.
Happier, Marie-Josèphe thought — but he would not have all the best scientific instruments.
“Since the time of St. Louis,” His Majesty said, “no one has brought a live sea monster to France. I commend you, Father de la Croix.”
His Majesty’s deft change of subject eased the tension.
“Your Majesty’s encouragement guaranteed my success,” Yves said.
“I shall commend you to my holy cousin Pope Innocent.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“And I shall observe your study of the dead monster.”
“I — I —”
Marie-Josèphe silently begged Yves to reply with adequate grace and appreciation.
“Your Majesty’s interest honors my work beyond imagination,” Yves said.
His Majesty turned to Count Lucien. They conferred for a moment; the King nodded.
“Tomorrow. You may begin your study after Mass.”
“Tomorrow, Your Majesty? But it’s essential — the carcass already decomposes.”
“Tomorrow,” His Majesty said calmly, as if Yves had not spoken. “After Mass.”
Marie-Josèphe wanted to appear from behind Count Lucien’s cloak and add her pleas to her brother’s, so His Majesty would understand that Yves must waste no time. But she could not add to her breach of etiquette. She could not show herself to the King; she should not even speak to him unless he spoke first.
Yves’ shadow bowed low against the silken tent wall.
“I beg Your Majesty’s pardon for my excess of enthusiasm. Thank you, Sire. Tomorrow.”
The shadows moved and melded and separated into pairs.
“I remember,” Louis said, “when I was young like Father de la Croix, I too could see in the dark.”
His Majesty’s courtiers laughed at his joke.
As the King and Mme de Maintenon led the courtiers from the tent, Count Lucien lowered his cloak and swung it around his shoulders. He clenched and unclenched his hands.
Lorraine paused before Marie-Josèphe.
“You may keep my cloak, Mlle de la Croix —”
Her teeth chattered as she spoke. “Thank you, sir.”
“— and perhaps you’ll reward me when I retrieve it.”
The heat of embarrassment did nothing to drive away Marie-Josèphe’s shivering.
Monsieur slipped his hand around Lorraine’s elbow and drew him away. They followed the King. Monsieur whispered; Lorraine replied, and laughed. Monsieur looked away. Lorraine spoke; Monsieur glanced at him with a shy smile.
The fountain mechanisms creaked and grumbled. The Fountain of Apollo remained still, but the Fountain of Latona at the upper end of the Green Carpet would shower water into the air, for the pleasure of the King.
“Count Lucien,” Marie-Josèphe said. “I’m grateful —”
“His Majesty must not be exposed to unseemly sights.”
The count bowed coolly. He tramped toward Yves, passing the equipment and the dissection table, disguising his slight lameness with the support of his walking-stick. Marie-Josèphe rubbed warmth into her chilled body.
Count Lucien offered Yves a leather sack twice the size of the purse he had given the galleon captain.
“With His Majesty’s regard.”
“I am grateful, Count Lucien, but I cannot accept it. When I took religious orders, I took a vow of poverty as well.”
Count Lucien gave him a quizzical glance. “As did all your holy brothers, who enrich themselves —”
“His Majesty saved my sister from the war in Martinique. He gave me the means to advance my work. I ask nothing else.”
Marie-Josèphe stepped between them and held out her hand. Count Lucien placed the purse, with its heavy weight of gold, in her palm. Her fingertips brushed his glove.
He withdrew his hand, longer and finer than hers, without acknowledging the touch. Marie-Josèphe was embarrassed by her rough skin.
He has never scrubbed the floor of a convent, Marie-Josèphe thought. She could not imagine him in any but elegant surroundings.
“Thank you, Count Lucien,” Marie-Josèphe said. “This will advance my brother’s work. Now we may buy a new microscope.” Perhaps, she hoped, even one of Mynheer van Leeuwenhoek’s, with enough left over for books.
“Learn your sister’s lesson, Father de la Croix,” Count Lucien said. “All wealth and all privilege flow from the King. His appreciation — in any form — is too valuable to spurn.”
“I know it, sir. But I desire neither wealth nor privilege. Only the freedom to continue my work.”
“Your desires are of no consequence,” Count Lucien said. “His Majesty’s wishes are. He has given permission for you to attend his awakening ceremony. Tomorrow, you may join the fifth rank of entry.”
“Thank you, M. de Chrétien.” Yves bowed. Conscious of the honor Yves had been given, Marie-Josèphe curtsied low.
The count bowed to the brother, to the sister, and left the tent.
“Do you know what this means?” Marie-Josèphe exclaimed.
“It means the King’s approval,” Yves said, his smile wry. “And time stolen by ceremony that I’d rather use in study. But I must please the King.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “You’re shivering.”
She leaned against him. “France is too cold!”
“And Martinique is too remote.”
“Are you glad His Majesty called you to Versailles?”
“Are you sorry to leave Fort-de-France?”
“No! I —”
The sea monster whispered a song.
“It sings,” Marie-Josèphe said. “The sea monster sings, just like a bird.”
“Yes.”
“Give it a fish — perhaps it’s as hungry as I am.”