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But I’m hungry enough to eat one of the sea monster’s fish, she thought. Alive. Wriggling.
His Majesty finished, put down his knife, wiped his mouth, and dipped his fingers into a bowl of spirits of wine to clean them. When he rose, all his court bowed.
An instant later — as if by coincidence, but surely by careful plan — Pope Innocent, with his retinue of Bishops, Cardinals, and Yves, paraded into the dome. The courtiers bowed again.
“Cousin, welcome,” His Majesty said.
His Majesty, accompanied by his brother and his sons and grandsons, and His Holiness, accompanied by his bishops and cardinals and his French Jesuit, strolled together out of the hexagonal room onto the balcony overlooking the lion’s enclosure. The musicians on the balcony — several strings and a harpsichord — struck up a bright tune.
His Majesty’s ravenous courtiers set to.
“Mlle de la Croix, may I offer you your second glass of wine?” Lorraine, looking particularly elegant, loomed above her. Marie-Josèphe admired his smile, his eyes, his new brocade waistcoat.
“You’re too late for that,” she said. His eyes widened and he made one quick bark of laughter. She became frightfully aware of the daring cut of her bodice. “I would like a glass of wine, sir, thank you.”
He brought wine, plump strawberries from the greenhouse, sliced cold peacock, the grease congealed beneath its skin.
He caressed her shoulder, her collarbone, with a peacock feather. The feather moved down her breast. She stepped away. Lorraine put the feather in her hair, so it draped along the side of her face and down her back.
“Exquisite,” he said.
Marie-Josèphe sipped her wine. It tasted of summer, of sunlight, of flowers. The wine went directly to her head. Lotte had strolled onto the balcony of the giraffes with Duke Charles, leaving Marie-Josèphe with the chevalier, the duke’s older, poorer, lower-ranking, but much more handsome relative. Lorraine stroked her cheek; he slid his hand beneath her simply-dressed hair and caressed the back of her neck. She shivered. Intrigued, surprised, she let herself relax against his touch. He leaned toward her. Frightened, she slipped from beneath his hand.
The Chevalier de Lorraine laughed softly.
Nearby, Count Lucien drank wine with the flawlessly beautiful Mlle de Valentinois, Mme de la Fère, and Mlle d’Armagnac. Mlle d’Armagnac flirted so outrageously that Marie-Josèphe felt outraged on Count Lucien’s behalf.
“Chrétien has parted from Mlle Past,” Lorraine said, “and Mme Present departs soon; he stands poised on the brink of Mlle Future.”
“I don’t understand you, sir.”
“Do you not?” He smiled. “Pay them no mind – Chrétien has too much to teach you, and Mlle Future has too little.”
The chevalier moved in front of her and drew her toward him. Marie-Josèphe found herself gazing into his eyes.
“Have you had smallpox?” the Chevalier asked.
“Why — yes, sir,” Marie-Josèphe said, astonished by the question. “When I was very little.”
“Then you are beautiful,” he said. “As beautiful as you appear.”
“Mlle de la Croix.”
Marie-Josèphe started, nearly spilling her wine on the Master of Ceremonies. Lorraine chuckled and took his hand from her neck.
“His Majesty asks you to play a tune.”
“If I — ? Sir, play for His Majesty? I cannot!”
Lorraine pressed her gently forward. “Of course you can. You must.”
Flustered, overwhelmed, Marie-Josèphe followed the Master of Ceremonies to the lion balcony. She curtsied low. His Majesty smiled and raised her to her feet.
“Mlle de la Croix!” he exclaimed. “More beautiful than ever — and with a sensible hair ornament. It would please me to hear you play.”PRIVATE
She curtsied again. Yves looked troubled. His Holiness regarded her without expression. Behind them, M. Coupillet stood with his back turned, facing his musicians. He did not acknowledge her. Courtiers emerged from the jungle, gathering on the balcony behind her. One disheveled agitated yellow finch arrowed through the doorway, gold silk threads streaming from its claws. It disappeared.
Little Master Domenico jumped up from the harpsichord and bowed chivalrously to Marie-Josèphe.
“Thank you, Master Domenico.” She could not help but smile, though she dreaded playing after his prowess at the keyboard. She had practiced a little at Saint-Cyr, but for five years before that she had been forbidden to touch any instrument.
Marie-Josèphe seated herself. She touched the ebony keys; they flowed like silk against her fingertips.
She played. She made a mistake; her fingers tangled. She stopped, her cheeks blazing hot.
She began again.
The music rippled around her like waves, like wind, like clouds. The sea monster’s songs touched her heart, touched her fingertips, touched the keys of the magnificent instrument she controlled.
The music ended. She sat before the harpsichord like a supplicant, praying. She trembled. She hardly had the strength to lift her hands.
“Charming,” His Majesty said. “Perfectly charming.”
More drunk with attention than with wine, Marie-Josèphe ran up the narrow stairs to her attic room. The peacock feather tickled her neck. The towel rubbed her inner thighs raw.
Her room was stuffy, but a candle glowed beside the bed. Odelette bent over a meringue of lace and ribbons, a new headdress.
“It’s so dark in here!”
“I was cold, so I closed the curtains.”
“The afternoon sun will shine in now, and warm you.” Marie-Josèphe opened the curtains, flooding the room with light. Hercules leaped onto the window seat.
A servant scratched at the door — two servants, one returning her riding habit from Mademoiselle’s apartment, the other bringing bread and soup and wine. Marie-Josèphe gave each serving man a sou and sent them away with the empty broth bowl, and pretended not to notice their amazed disgust at her pitiable gratuity.
“I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” Marie-Josèphe said to Odelette. She stuck the peacock feather into a curlicue of the mirror frame.
“I feel worse,” Odelette said. Her voice quivered. Tears streaked her cheeks. Marie-Josèphe sat on the edge of the bed, as if her slave were a great lady receiving callers.
“What’s wrong?”
“Mignon said you’d beat me. She said you said I’m lazy.”
