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To hear her speak about her childhood, about the forest and sky of the Gaspe peninsula, about the very peaceful life the people lead there, of the music her father and her brothers made, other first vio­lin—all this soothed and relaxed me, made me forget my trouble. She had had a happy childhood and youth, which proves that it isn't material comfort and riches that create happiness, but what comes from inside you.

By the end of September, when I left for Europe, I was already much better. I still felt that bruise inside, but I was stronger. My appetite had come back. Little by little the pain began to leave me, and no longer came to torment me when I was singing. Anytime I was onstage or at a television studio, I felt perfectly fine. But as soon as I walked offstage, it was there waiting for me. Still, the pain wasn't too bad, and I was able to forget it for long periods.

I spoke to my mother every day, then I passed her to Manon, Suzanne, and Rene, who, under her orders, pampered me, prepared me herbal teas and broth, vegetable salads and fruit salads, and made me rest whenever I needed to.

And then one day, on a plane that was flying us across the sky from Europe, I suddenly turned toward Suzanne and Manon, extremely excited, and signaled to them (it was one of my days of silence) that the pain had left, without a trace. I'd even stopped thinking about it altogether for several days, perhaps even a week. I slept well, ate well, sang well.

I was healed. I had forgotten my trouble and it had left me. I thought about what my father used to say when I was little and I went to show him a boo-boo that I'd gotten: "Don't think about it anymore, my little girl, and it won't hurt anymore."

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