The Moon and the Sun by Vonda N. McIntyre Read Free Book Online Page A

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.”
    He shrugged. “It won’t eat.” He scooped seaweed from the basket and flung it through the bars of the cage. He flung a fish after it. He rattled the gate to test that it was fastened.
    The sea