When shots were fired on Tuesday night and Pauline Marois was hauled off the stage, the Quebec provincial police guarding her dragged her into a corridor behind the stage, unwittingly moving her toward the danger.
Through an open door, she told reporters on Wednesday, she saw a ball of fire at the rear entrance and an injured man. Someone closed the door. She checked that her family members were all fine, then decided to return to the stage to try to calm the crowd.
Take her measure. She showed sangfroid in a moment of crisis.
She hit the correct notes in her news conference on Wednesday, pointing out that Quebec is not a violent society, that the incident had nothing to do with politics.
Quebecers will take note of the formidable Madame Marois's poise. She can be expected to benefit, especially from appearing in a positive light to the majority of Quebecers, who did not vote for her.
Marois was elected with the weakest possible mandate: 31.9 per cent of the popular vote and 54 seats. Facing an unpopular premier in the midst of a student crisis and a corruption inquiry, she was unable to make the sale.
Jean Charest, who really seemed to have worn out his welcome, almost won the darned election, winning 31.2 per cent of the vote and 50 seats - a level of support the polls did not detect, which added to a growing body of evidence that voters are not levelling with pollsters.
Fran莽is Legault, leader of the new Coalition Avenir Qu脙漏bec, won 19 seats with 27 per cent of the vote, behind the Liberals, while most polls showed him ahead of Charest.
Leading the Parti Qu脙漏b脙漏cois is always a delicate job, because the base is made up of people who passionately want to found a new country. They are not always super-realistic about the likely electoral results of running an election on a platform of immediate secession.
To solidify the base behind her in the campaign, Marois poodled up to student protesters, promising to reverse a tuition increase, and campaigned on identity politics, proposing to restrict displays of non-Christian symbols, stop francophones and allophones from attending English colleges and place new restrictions on English in the workplace.
I found the tone of her campaign, its relentless focus on "nous" discouraging, and I was rattled on election night when PQ supporters booed Charest when he spoke English.
There has been a growing chorus of complaints from hard-line P脙漏quistes - led by the eloquent and energetic Jean-Fran莽is Lis脙漏e, who was a key adviser to Jacques Parizeau - about the (supposed) growing dominance of English in downtown Montreal.
The PQ's key language law - Bill 101 - worked to reduce the role of English in public life, and it made sure that a generation of immigrants was educated in French. It violated the Charter of Rights, but for Quebecers the survival of French is an existential issue, and there is a widespread consensus here on the necessity of these measures concerning the public language of Quebec.
The Anglos who didn't like that left. Those who stayed learned to speak French. The new complaints, though, from Lis脙漏e and his supporters, are about private language, the language anglophones and allophones use in their homes, even the music they listen to.
In an article in l'Actualitie, for example, Lis脙漏e complained that few anglophones listened to chanteuse Marie Mai.
Back in 1995, when a tired and emotional Parizeau took to the stage after losing the referendum he'd worked so hard to win, he pointed out that most francophones had voted to separate.
"We'll talk about us: at 60 per cent, we voted in favour," he said. "It's true, it's true we were beaten, yes, but by what? By money and ethnic votes, essentially. So all it means is that, in the next round, instead of being 60 or 61 per cent to vote YES, we will be 63 or 64 per cent and it will suffice."
To win the next time, it is possible that the hardliners in the PQ would like to reduce the number of ethnic voters, by imposing irritating new language laws, driving them out of the province, leaving the Qu脙漏b脙漏cois de souche to enjoy their Marie Mai tunes in peace.
To strengthen Bill 101, Marois would need support from the CAQ. They campaigned on a promise to better enforce the existing laws, not pass new ones, but they may be vulnerable to attack from Marois on this emotional issue.
After Tuesday night, nobody should wonder whether she is tough enough to apply the necessary pressure.
