“I grant you the teeth.”
“It’s like a monkey skull,” Chartres said. “An example of God’s humor, no doubt, like the form of many orchids —” He bowed to Marie-Josèphe. “If you’ll forgive me for mentioning the similarity to —”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” Yves said. “My sister’s natural delicacy...”
Chartres grinned.
“The creature’s very little like a monkey,” Marie-Josèphe said quickly. “I have dissected a monkey.”
“Don’t you think teeth are trivial, Father?” Chartres said. “After all, we lose them so easily. When we look at the female monster’s skull, no doubt her teeth will be much smaller.”
“Her teeth are equally large and sharp, sir,” Marie-Josèphe said.
“Your imagination is overwrought,” Yves said.
“Now that she mentions it,” Chartres said, “this does look rather like a human skull.”
“Have you had much occasion to study the human skull, M. de Chartres?” Yves asked.
“I have, Father. On the battlefield, in the rain and the mud, the horses’ hooves dig up old graves, from old battles. I found a skull, I kept it in my tent the whole of the summer. Not only did I study it, I spoke to it. I asked if it had fought with Charlemagne, or St. Louis.”
“Did it answer?” Yves asked.
“A dead skull, answer?” Chartres asked quizzically. He tapped his fingernail on the edge of the paper. “But it looked very like this.”
“I shall mention your observation in my notes,” Yves said. “Which I must hurry along and write.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Chartres said. “You’ll see my point before we reach the chateau.”
Chartres paused to salute the portrait of his uncle; Yves followed suit. The two men departed together, deep in philosophical discussion. Marie-Josèphe curtsied to the painting and set about straightening Yves’ equipment, under His Majesty’s eye. When the servants came to take His Majesty’s picture reverently away, Marie-Josèphe felt obscurely comforted.
15
The Venetian boat glided along the Grand Canal, poled by a gondolier singing an incomprehensible Italian folk song. In the bow of the gondola, Marie-Josèphe trailed her hand in the water. Silver water lilies bearing lighted candles spun past, swirling.
Lorraine had claimed the next seat in the gondola. Madame and Lotte occupied the central bench, while Monsieur sat aft at the gondolier’s feet.
Ahead of the gondola, His Majesty’s miniature galleon raced his galley. The gondolier had resigned himself to last place as soon as they left the bank. His passengers were entirely content with his singing.
The overseer screamed at the convict rowers. He lashed their backs. The galley plunged into the lead.
“Hardly a fair race.” Lorraine gazed at Marie-Josèphe. The candlelight, and the light of the waxing moon, flattered his handsome face. “A whip against the barest breeze.” He slipped his hand around Marie-Josèphe’s ankle. She moved her foot; he gently restrained it.
There’s no harm in it, Marie-Josèphe thought. His touch pleases me. Yves would not like me to allow it, but Yves allows himself his own pleasures, riding in the galleon with the King and the Pope, reliving the sea monster hunt.
“Why must they race?” Marie-Josèphe said. “The poor men —”
“They’re only convicts,” Lorraine said. “Prisoners of war, or murderers —”
“Surely not!”
“Who else would suffer such treatment? My dear, His Majesty races so he may lose his bet with King James. Then James will have money for another week or two at Versailles.”
“His Majesty is magnanimous,” Marie-Josèphe said.
Lorraine moved his hand above her ankle to her calf.
Monsieur gazed at Lorraine. Despite the shadows of candlelight, despite his powder and diamond patches, distress showed plain in his face. Marie-Josèphe wondered if perhaps the friends had argued.
The galley reached the man-made island that floated where the arms of the Grand Canal crossed. A cheer went up from the English King’s party.
“You are looking particularly splendid this evening,” Lorraine said.
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “It’s entirely thanks to you.” She stroked the peacock feather in her hair. “Odelette had no time for my hair. Mademoiselle needed her — and Mary of Modena particularly requested her attendance. I’m so proud of her success! But if not for your peacock, my hair would be...”