At sunset, a footman respectfully carried away the portrait of the King; the open tent emptied of spectators. Marie-Josèphe finished a last sketch of the sea monster’s generative organs, now dissected out of the smooth furry pouch that had held them protected within the creature’s body. Exposed, they resembled the male organs of the marble statues lounging in the gardens of Versailles.
Yves went away to write up his notes, leaving Marie-Josèphe to arrange the shroud, and direct the replacement of ice and sawdust, and feed the living sea monster.
When everyone else had left, Marie-Josèphe unlocked the cage and netted a fish.
Red-gold sunlight doubly gilded Apollo and his horses.
“Sea monster!”
The sun fell below the horizon, leaving soft dusk behind. In silence, a footman arrived, lit the candles, and departed. A damp breeze fluttered the flames. The tent flapped. Marie-Josèphe shivered. The guards hurried around the tent, closing its open sides. The breeze stopped.
The sea monster whistled.
Marie-Josèphe swished the net through the water.
“Sea monster! Fishhh!”
An arrow of ripples streaked across the fountain.
The sudden warmth of menstrual blood pressed out and dribbled between Marie-Josèphe’s legs, stinging her raw skin.
A blasphemy passed her lips that, a month ago, never would have crossed her mind. Once again, as usual, even about inconvenient matters, Odelette was right.
Marie-Josèphe’s impatience with the bother had made her foolish.
I’ll feed the sea monster quickly and then run back up the hill, Marie-Josèphe thought. And beg Odelette’s pardon if I’ve stained my petticoat. I mustn’t stain my skirt!
Poor Odelette despairs of saving the silver petticoat, and I cannot afford to spoil more clothes.
The sea monster surfaced. Marie-Josèphe stroked her hair. The sea monster screamed and splashed backwards.
Marie-Josèphe waved the desperately wriggling fish back and forth, trying to distract the sea monster from her strange disquiet.
“Sea monster, be easy.”
The sea monster floated, only her eyes and forehead above the surface. Underwater, her nostrils flared and contracted. Her hair swirled around her shoulders. Marie-Josèphe leaned forward, trying to see why the sea monster was in distress.
The sea monster snorted violently. The surface bubbled above her mouth and nose.
She swam backwards, then moaned and sighed and swam to the stairs, approaching uncertainly, her song a question, a comfort.
She opened the net and let the fish swim away uneaten. She took Marie-Josèphe’s hand between her webbed fingers.
Marie-Josèphe stayed very still. The sea monster lowered her face to Marie-Josèphe’s hand. Marie-Josèphe trembled, afraid the creature was about to bite her, praying she was not. The sea monster’s warm lips touched her skin. The beast flicked out her tongue and licked Marie-Josèphe’s knuckles.
Marie-Josèphe laughed with relief.
“You’re like my old pony,” she said to the sea monster. “You just want to lick the salt off my skin!”
As Marie-Josèphe fed the sea monster, she petted her, continuing to tame her to her hands and voice.
“Say ‘sea monster,’” Marie-Josèphe said to the creature, holding out a fish.
“Fishhhh.” The sea monster’s parroting speech dissolved in a long complex song of melody and whistles. She snapped up the fish in two quick bites.
“Say, ‘Marie-Josèphe.’”
“Fishhhh!”
“Say, ‘Your Majesty honors me,’” Marie-Josèphe said, recklessly, flinging a fish into the pool in frustration. Again in frustration, she sang back at the sea monster.
The sea monster fell silent and stared at her.
Marie-Josèphe continued, singing the wordless song she had played for His Majesty.
The sea monster drifted closer and hummed an exotic, compelling, haunting second melody that broke every rule of music.
Tears spilled down Marie-Josèphe’s cheeks.
I have nothing to be sad about, she thought. Why am I crying? Because it’s my time of month...?
She scrubbed the tears away with the back of her hand.
But my time of month never made me sad before, she thought. Only impatient with the inconvenience, with being told I must not do this, I must not do that.
The sea monster took her hand. Hearing footsteps, Marie-Josèphe waved the net behind her, hoping the guard would understand that she wanted a fish.
She continued to sing. The sea monster embroidered variations on the melody.
The net left her hand and returned. The sea monster must have seen the morsel, for she ended her song, accepted her reward, and submerged with the fish held delicately between her claws.
“Thank you, sir.” Turning, Marie-Josèphe nearly ran into Count Lucien, standing behind her on the fountain’s rim.
“Your song was extraordinarily beautiful.”
“I thought you were the musketeer!” Marie-Josèphe said, too flustered to reply to his compliment.
He took the net from her hand and scooped up another fish. The sea monster swam to the stairs and snarled. Marie-Josèphe quickly threw her the treat.
The sea monster tossed the fish in the air, caught it, and let it swim free.
Marie-Josèphe laughed, delighted by the sea monster’s play.