"You must understand, ma petite bichette," her mother was wailing. "We cannot make ends meet."
As she was being shoved into the wagon, Adele looked up and read "Cirque Spectaculaire" lining the door in weathered red paint. Tears began streaming down her face, blurring her vision. Her mother's parting gift, a necklace her father had given her, glinted at her neck. The man who had bought her eyed it. He had a stern face, and Adele was afraid of him.
"Franconi," she heard her mother calling from a distance. "She is a strange girl. Take care of her. Please..."
They traveled for much of the day before they reached the grand circus tent. Franconi put her to work immediately.
"This is not fun and games. You perform in three days. Cecile ran off with that flying trapeze son of a bitch, so you're the new act. You will be a tight rope walker."
A rush of fear ran through Adele's body. She spent the next six hours attempting the tight rope. Hard as she tried, she could not make it more than a few steps before falling. Each time she fell the ringmaster would lash her with his whip, like an animal. At midnight he left her, crying by the tightrope.
"What am I to do? I am no performer. C'est impossible."
"Bon Jour, mon cherie!" Adele looked around and saw no one. She had thought she was alone. Just then, a shabby clown midget stumbled from the shadows. He was clutching a bottle in his hand. "Why are you crying, mon cherie?" he asked kindly.
"Franconi," she grumbled. "I must learn the tight rope, but I keep falling and he whips me for punishment."
"I think I can help you," offered the little clown. He pulled a ratty pair of slippers from his overcoat. "If you wear these you will be able to cross without falling." Adele reached eagerly for the shoes. "eh eh eh..." said the clown wagging his finger at her. "You must do something for me." "Oh, anything!" She exclaimed. "I need those shoes."
"The head clown has a bottle of gold liquor. Steal it for me and I will give you the shoes." And with that the clown was gone.
Adele introduced herself to the head clown and flirted with him a bit. He offered her a drink, and she engaged him in a long conversation. Each time he made her one she pretended to drink it, but poured it into a jar at her side. By the end of the night she had filled it with the gold liquor.
The next day she performed flawlessly on the tight rope for Franconi. She noticed him eyeing her slippers. "I am quite pleased with your performance. Today I have a new trick for you." He wet the rope from a bottle and dropped a match on it. The entire rope was on fire. "But..." protested Adele.
"But NOTHING," roared Franconi. "You perform in two days!" With that he walked away.
Again, Adele sat weeping. "Ah, mon cherie." The little clown was back. He took a swig from his near empty jar. "What seems to be the problem now?"
"He lit the rope on fire! First he demands I learn to tight rope walk, now I have to do it on fire. I keep burning myself. C'est impossible," sobbed Adele.
"No, no. Nothing is impossible," slurred the clown. "I have something for you." He held out a beautiful silk cape. "What do I have to do this time?" Adele asked skeptically.
"Oh don't worry. I just need you to fix my makeup. I fell asleep and I was underneath some costumes and my makeup rubbed off."
The next day with the cape Adele performed the fire tight rope effortlessly. "Excellent," exclaimed Franconi. "You're a natural...so it shouldn't be hard for you to walk while you juggle these," he said brandishing three daggers. "Uh, no...I'll be fine," Adele said uselessly . She waited, anticipating the little clown's arrival. At two she began to worry, and searched the town for him. He was passed out in the gutter outside of a bar.
"Mon..." stuttered the clown. "Mon che..." " Adele," she offered.
"Nice to meet you," he said sarcastically.
"Oh, silly. You know me. I need your help." "Help?" The clown asked belligerently. "Yeah, help. That's all. Want me to do more tricks for you, huh? Well..."
"Oh please!" begged Adele. "The show is tomorrow night! This is the last time."
"I don--well...what's he asking you for this time?" asked the clown. She showed him the daggers.
"Ok lets see," he said as he rummaged around in his coat. "Here we are!" He was holding up a dirty looking clown nose.
"That?" asked Adele in disbelief.
"Well do you want it or not?" The clown sounded impatient.
"Ok, ok," she said reaching for it.
"Eh eh eh!" he shouted suddenly. "There is a gypsy camp 9 miles from here where they make magical fiddles. You must bring me one."
Adele wandered all night to find the gypsy camp. The gypsy's tried to kill her at first, thinking she was an intruder. The only thing she had to offer them was her mother's necklace. It was all she had left of her family, but she got the fiddle and that was what was important now. The clown's face lit up when he saw the fiddle.
Once he gave her the clown nose Adele clamored up to the rope, excited to attempt the new trick. The clown began to play and sing:
"Mon cherie, woe is me, how foolish you can be.' You crossed the rope with no help from the shoes, I could hardly believe you bought my ruse That cape is beautiful but holds no magic, The extend of your naivety is tragic That nose is only decoration this deserves a celebration!"
The little clown took a long swig from his bottle.
"Mon cherie, woe is me, how foolish you can be. You did those tricks with no help but your own and thus great talent have you shown It seems it was in you all along, I hope you liked my little song..."
As he sang, Adele stopped juggling and stood stunned in the middle of the rope. Could it be true? She plucked off the nose, and threw it along with the cape and shoes to the ground. Then she began to juggle. The little clowns fiddle playing began to fade as he stumbled out of the tent towards the bar.
"Mon cherie, woe is me..."
