The Moon and the Sun

Marie-Josèphe unlocked the sea monster’s cage. Small fish swam and splashed in a jug of sea water. A strange, faint glow suffused the Fountain. Could Yves have left a lit candle on the stairs, reflecting from the water?

“Sea monster?” Marie-Josèphe whispered. “It’s only me, come to give you some supper.”

Ripples spread across the pool. Marie-Josèphe caught her breath.

The ripples glowed with eerie phosphorescence. The glow spread. The luminescence reflected from the gilt of Apollo’s dolphins and tritons.

In Fort de France, on Martinique, the ocean glowed like this. The barrels must have captured glowing sea water, and brought it to Versailles.

“Sea monster?” Marie-Josèphe hummed a melody the sea monster had sung. She wondered if the songs of sea monsters had any meaning, like the cries and yowls of her cat Hercules.

Perhaps I’m saying, I’m glad to be out of the awful gold basin, the awful canvas, Marie-Josèphe thought. That would be very confusing for the poor sea monster.

She sat on the edge of the fountain and hummed a different melody.

A wake like a shining arrow flowed toward Marie-Josèphe. The sea monster swam to the platform, her tails undulating gently, only her eyes and hair revealed above the surface. Marie-Josèphe sat on the lowest step, her feet on the wet platform, and held out a fish to the captive creature.

Shall I hold tight to the fish? she wondered. No, if I force the sea monster to stay near, I’m likely to frighten it.

Instead of snatching the fish and thrashing away into the darkness, the sea monster swam very close, turned, and swept past beneath Marie-Josèphe’s hand. The pressure of the water stroked her skin.

“Sea monster, aren’t you hungry?”

The sea monster surfaced an armslength away.

“Fishhhh,” she said.

“Yes, exactly, fish!”

The sea monster dove again. Marie-Josèphe sat very still, her fingers growing numb in the cold water.

Beneath the glowing surface of the pool, the sea monster’s dark shape rose beneath her hand. The sea monster, floating face-up, gazed at her through luminescent ripples and placed her webbed claws directly beneath Marie-Josèphe’s fingers.

Marie-Josèphe released the fish into the sea monster’s grasp.

The sea monster rolled, stroking her arm along Marie-Josèphe’s palm. Her warmth radiated against Marie-Josèphe’s skin. Marie-Josèphe laid her hand on the creature’s back, as if she were gentling a colt.

The sea monster trembled.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Marie-Josèphe did not like to lie, even to a creature.

Floating face-down, the sea monster quieted beneath her touch.

Marie-Josèphe smoothed one lock, then another, of the creature’s dark green hair. The glossy strands lay across the sea monster’s skin, iridescent black in the faint light. The sea monster hummed, like a cat who purred in song. Marie-Josèphe picked up a third strand of hair. The tangle would not straighten, for the hair was knotted.

The sea monster rolled over again, drawing the tangled strand from Marie-Josèphe’s grasp. Floating on her back, she neatly bit off the fish’s head, munched it, ate the other half. Her double tail fanned the water beside Marie-Josèphe’s foot. Marie-Josèphe bent to look more closely. The tails were nothing like fish tails, and not much like seal fins. Darker, thicker skin covered the sea monster from pelvis downward. A mat of dark-green hair covered her female parts. The upper bones of her tails were rather short, the lower bones longer, with powerful muscles front and back. The joint between them bent both ways. The joint connecting long lower bones to large feet resembled Marie-Josèphe’s wrist. The feet ended in long, webbed toes and wickedly powerful claws.

The sea monster used one toe to flick a drop of water toward Marie-Josèphe’s face. It spattered her cheek and dribbled down her face.

“Don’t splash me, sea monster,” she said. “I already ruined one gown in your pool, and I cannot afford another. Come, leave off playing. Eat another fish. I have so much to do, I must hurry.” Her stomach growled. The squabs were very long ago and very small. She smiled at the sea monster. “You’re lucky, you know—I wish someone would bring me a fish to eat!”

The sea monster took the fish, bit off its head, and offered the body and tail to Marie-Josèphe.

Shocked, Marie-Josèphe scooted backwards. Safe beyond the fountain’s rim, she gazed down at the sea monster.

Be calm, she said to herself. It cannot have understood that you are hungry. It brought you a fish, as Hercules might bring you a mouse.

The sea monster sang a few notes.

“Thank you,” Marie-Josèphe said, speaking to the sea monster as she would speak to her cat. “You may eat it now.”

“Fishhhh.” The sea monster popped the piece of fish into its mouth. A bit of the tail stuck out between her lips. She crunched it and swallowed, and the translucent fin disappeared.

Marie-Josèphe petted her good-bye. The sea monster grasped her wrist. Gently, firmly, the sea monster sang and drew Marie-Josèphe closer to the water.