The moment I placed my hand on the latch I felt two breaths on my neck. The shock made me turn round. I heard two sighs, which seemed to fade away into the distance.
The corridor was dark, deserted. For a few moments I peered into the shadows, convinced I had glimpsed two presences at my back. Everything was calm, silent. I could make out the dark rectangles of the doors in the corridor, but if one of them had been opened, I would have heard it.
Perhaps the ghosts had disappeared at the end of the corridor, at the
point where I could see it turn at a right angle into another corridor.
I decided not to worry about it and I opened the door.
I arrived at the end of the bare-back rider and trapeze artist
The big top was full of people. I walked down the auditorium and found a place at the front, at the end of the first row. It was a little circus, similar to the one in the village square, suffused with a mixture of happiness and melancholy, which was instantly heartrending.
The following number was an animal act; this turned out to be a group of rats, which, if the cries of the audience were to be believed, were just as frightening as lions or tigers. Armed with whips, which they cracked as they shouted their throaty commands, the tamers made their rodents perform all sorts of acrobatics, such as jumping through hoops of fire. Before leaving the arena, and after a drum roll, each tamer picked up a fat, grey rat by the tail, between two fingers, and arching their mouths wide open, lowered the creatures' heads into their throats, unleashing a crescendo of screams and shudders in the audience.
Then the clowns entered the ring, wildly applauded from the moment they started their grimaces and pirouettes. The strange thing was that there were no children in the audience, but the adults behaved like excited kids. This phenomenon was particularly noticeable with the arrival of the clowns.
"Hello, boys and girls!" said the white clown.
"Hello, Zinzin!" the audience replied with one voice.
I saw them all fidgety with impatience, balancing on one buttock on the edge of their benches, their faces lit up with a feverish joy.
Zinzin and the funny man began their buffoonery, to universal enthusiasm. When a pantomime bull, animated by a couple of extras, appeared behind them, men and women started screaming stridently, like youngsters at a Punch and Judy show when the policeman turns up with his truncheon. The clown started a bullfight with the cloth bull, with the help of a large red handkerchief which he had pulled out of his sleeve and in which he noisily blew his nose between passes. The crowd rocked with silly, exaggerated peals of laughter. The awful thing was, no one seemed aware of the aberrant nature of this type of jollity, and everyone seemed genuinely to be having fun.
Suddenly, a rider disguised as a barbarian galloped out from the wings on a black horse, did a tour of the ring and, when he reached me, grabbed me so forcefully by the arm that he dragged me off my bench. In a flash I found myself sitting behind him, hanging onto his shirt as I bounced around the circle of light to the jeers of the crowd. Then, as violently as he had picked me up, he threw me into the middle of the ring between the two clowns, who began tossing me back and forth between them, like a rag doll, in a slapstick routine that delighted the audience. Their accomplices inside the pantomime bull joined in the mayhem, butting me in the back with the bull's head.
Finally, the white clown took me in his arms, miming pity. Pretending to be transported by an excess of romantic sentimentality, he held me firmly in a bone-crunching grip. Meanwhile, the funny man tied me to the horns of the bull.
When I was tied up, the clown stepped back to look at me, gave a whistle of admiration and, opening the huge buttons of his flies, took out his penis, which he showed off to the audience while rubbing his stomach like someone about to tuck into a meal. People started shrieking with joy. This was really beyond a joke. I began to protest vehemently, jerking about to try to free myself. The bull I was tied to started butting me to knock me off balance. These clowns and this stupid crowd were making me mad. I tugged violently against the ropes, but only succeeded in making them dig into my wrists where they burned my flesh. From a sheath he was wearing on his belt the funny man took out a sword, which he passed to his assistant. With the point of the blade he began to cut open my leathers. Obviously I was paralyzed, at the mercy of the slightest slip. The audience held its breath, went "Ahhh . . ." amazed each time the clown completed a cut and another piece of my clothing fell to the ground, uncovering my body bit by bit.
The operation lasted an eternity. This ridiculous fat pig of a clown got more and more of a hard-on the more he stripped me. When he had completely unpeeled me, glowing with pride, he displayed his little erect prick to the gallery and adorned it with his red nose to milk the applause raining down on him. The people were getting carried away and began stamping their feet in unison. In the general din, the clown came slowly towards me.
I aimed a kick at his goolies, which he evaded. The funny man placed the sword at my throat. I gritted my teeth and looked witheringly at the seedy little clown, who returned to his burlesque with his never-ending grimaces. That didn't prevent him from spreading my legs and taking me by force, egged on by the delirious audience.
I had no choice but to give in, attempting to stay completely cool so as to make this misadventure as painless as possible, mentally as well as physically. Seeing I was determined not to move, the funny man withdrew his arm from my neck. The clown was pumping away inside me like a rabbit, but still hadn't achieved his objective. I could hardly feel him, my attention was so concentrated on my right hand, which I was managing bit by bit to slip out of its tourniquet.
Round the ring and up in the stands the people were too wrapped up in their voyeurism to notice me freeing myself. Thus I was finally able to grab the sword and stick it through Zinzin's arm. He recoiled from me screaming, his miserable little purple thing still stiff. A wave of hysterical panic ran around the big top. I slipped out under the stands, found an exit and started to run, stark naked, down the dark corridor.
I was livid, I wanted to die rather than be reminded of the stupidity of these people. I ran at random through the labyrinth of corridors, and the more I ran the more my anger turned to rage and, in the end, to a fierce desire to laugh.
I stopped and began to walk calmly, until I felt I wanted to open another door.
