At first, the rumor circulated that I was worn out. In the business and in the papers, they were saying that specialists had predicted that my voice was ruined, that the show at the Saint-Denis would be my last, my swan song, my definitive goodbye to show business. There were full-page articles on the subject in the tabloids, they were say­ing it on the radio, and a lot of people ended up believing it.

Of course, we knew it wasn't true. But Rene was worried that the Canadian and American producers would focus on these rumors and refuse to commit themselves any further to our projects. So that evening at the Saint-Denis, I had to offer stunning truth that my voice was in perfect condition. A tall order.

As if to add still more pressure, two days earlier I'd caused a scan­dal at the Adisq gala by refusing the Felix award for best English-speaking performer of the year.

Things had never been simple between English Canada and French-speaking Quebec. More so at that time than today, any Quebecois artist who wished to put on a show in English was getting him- or herself into a touchy, very delicate situation.

I'd learned this by sad experience two years earlier, when the French-speaking community of Toronto had invited me to sing at the Saint-Jean show being presented on an outdoor stage at the Harbour Front, facing Lake Ontario.

I was doing a few songs in English for the program, including that good old "What a Feeling," and some classics like "Over the Rain­bow" and "Summertime." As soon as I began to sing in English, some people in the audience started booing me. Most of the Toronto French speakers use English at work and in the street. But the Saint-

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