a low voice, as if it were a secret: "You know, Dr. Riley was right. Your voice has never been so beautiful."

"But, darling, I haven't even been training with him for a year! He said it would take four or five to see the results."

"So imagine what these legendary results will be like when you can really see them!"

I hadn't spoken to anyone about it, but I too thought my voice had started to change. It was fuller and more subtle. Its tone was always clear and precise. And most of all, my choice of textures and colors was growing larger and larger, more velvety and crystalline. Singing was making me happier than it ever had before.

Every two months or so I went to see Dr. Riley in New York. Sometimes we had very intense workout sessions, and sometimes we just talked about voices, music, or sounds we liked. I always left his office feeling stimulated, energetic, and determined. Wherever I was—Montreal, Paris, or somewhere on tour—I did my voice exer­cises and followed my diet.

I loved discipline with a passion, the really strong, strict discipline I was imposing on myself at the time. I've faithfully performed it for more than ten years of my life. The hardest part is to never give in. Depriving myself of desserts, chips, or peanuts from time to time couldn't be easier. Depriving myself of them every day, at the same time as a lot of other little things, is a whole other ball game. It calls for constant, fanatical vigilance. You've got to turn yourself into a kind of machine who doesn't think about certain things, who, for example, forgets the taste of sticky toffee pudding, creme anglaise, and maple syrup. Bizarre as it may seem, all these little privations, taken together, create a kind of well-being, happiness. The kind that brings self-mastery, I think.

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