THE TORNADO OF FRENZIED CAMpaigning for and against the independence of Quebec had blown through. An astonishing 94% of the French-dominated province's voters had gone to the polls. Now only the outcome was in doubt. Families from coast to coast sat rapt before their television sets to watch the results come in. As each yes was matched with a no, and the percentages moved up and down by hundredths of a decimal point, Canada as a nation went through a spellbinding, nail-biting, glacial few hours that were unprecedented--and wondered whether the country would ever experience such togetherness again. Finally, by 10:20 p.m. Montreal time, 97% of the ballots had been counted, and the public's verdict was clear: the nos had won. The 128-year-old nation of Canada, a rock of stability and prosperity, would not crack asunder. At least for now.

The sighs of relief from the no supporters echoed from Vancouver Island to St. John's. CANADA SURVIVES, blared the headline in the federalist Montreal Gazette. But just barely. The final tally was 50.6% for the no side versus 49.4% for those voting yes for separation, a difference of just 53,000 votes out of 4.8 million cast. Moreover, 60% of French-speaking Quebeckers, who make up 82% of the province's 7 million people, voted to leave Canada.

The close tally thus offered little lasting comfort to those hoping this vote would end the maddening quest for cultural and political peace between Canada's English- and French-speaking peoples. Indeed, Lucien Bouchard, head of the Bloc Quebecois in Parliament and charismatic leader of the yes campaign, said the separatist Quebec government would organize a new referendum as soon as possible. Quebec Premier Jacques Parizeau churlishly blamed the loss on "money and the ethnic vote"--the latter a reference to non-French-speaking immigrants, most of whom oppose Quebec independence. "Let us be calm, let us smile," Parizeau told his Francophone brethren. "The next round is just around the corner, and we are going to have our country."

The possibility of a new referendum anytime soon was diminished, however, by turmoil in the separatist camp. Widely criticized for his ethnic reference, Parizeau announced the day after the Monday vote that he would resign as premier and head of Quebec's ruling Parti Quebecois. The more popular Bouchard was immediately touted as Parizeau's likely successor, but he startled the nation at a Thursday press conference by saying that he may drop out of politics. Few political analysts believe, however, that he would refuse an urgent draft to carry forth the separatist flag.

While the P.Q. debates its future, Federal Prime Minister Jean Chretien is trying to persuade Quebeckers to pull back from their pursuit of independence. "To the government of Quebec, I say now it is time to work together," Chretien urged on referendum night. "The people of Quebec have spoken. We must all respect their verdict. It is time to turn the page." Chretien and other Ottawa officials immediately got to work drafting a parliamentary resolution recognizing Quebec as a "distinct society" within Canada, and spoke of future legislation devolving new powers to Quebec and other provincial governments.

Bouchard, a former Cabinet minister who quit Ottawa and formed his own separatist party in 1990, rejected any such temporizing out of hand. "Nobody's going to get us, the sovereigntists, involved in another 30 years of sterile discussions, of stupidities and verbal posturing," Bouchard declared. "Never again will sovereigntists be begging anything from the rest of Canada."

Bitter as Ottawa-Quebec City relations remain after the referendum, the Canadian business establishment saw the vote as a welcome step back from the brink. The Canadian dollar, which slumped to a 10-month low against its U.S. counterpart during the month-long referendum campaign, rallied 2% in the days following the vote. Interest rates dropped a quarter point, and the Toronto Stock Exchange exploded with a 132-point gain to end the week up 3%.

THE NATION-CHALLENGING EVENTS that came so close to the edge began a year ago, when Parizeau's Parti Quebecois won election as the new government of Quebec. The P.Q., founded by the dynamic separatist Rene Levesque, had last controlled the provincial government from 1976 to '85. In 1980, Levesque sponsored the first referendum on Quebec independence and suffered a stinging defeat, with the no side taking 60% of the vote.

Parizeau had campaigned last fall on the promise that he would hold a new referendum on sovereignty in 1995 if he won. But the election returns seemed to betray him. The P.Q. took power, but with just under 45% of the vote--suggesting that the separatists did not have popular backing for their plans. "Separation is not in the cards for Quebec," crowed Liberal Prime Minister Chretien, a Quebecker who is more popular outside his home province than in. But Chretien sold short the wily Parizeau, who huddled last summer with the Bloc Quebecois and the small, moderate Action Democratique Party, and came up with a referendum question designed to appeal to "soft nationalists" who prefer autonomy for Quebec while maintaining close ties to Canada.

Federalists ridiculed Parizeau's referendum language as incomprehensible: "Do you agree that Quebec should become sovereign," the question stated, "after having made a formal offer to Canada for a new economic and political partnership, within the scope of the bill respecting the future of Quebec and of the agreement signed on June 12, 1995?" The bill referred to is a draft declaration of independence; the June 12 agreement is the pact between the three separatist parties. Under the verbiage the meaning seemed to be, Do you favor independence after we have given Ottawa a chance to negotiate reasonably? That was a muffled inquiry indeed. "It is only through confusion and obfuscation that the Parti Quebecois believes they can trick Quebeckers into voting yes," said Liberal leader and ex-premier Daniel Johnson. He and Chretien emphasized that however many qualifications were attached, a yes vote was a vote for separation.

When the formal campaign was launched Oct. 1--with each side's expenditures limited to $3.7 million in private funds, half of which would be reimbursed by the provincial government--polls showed the separatists trailing by as many as 10 points. Lackluster campaigning by Parizeau, 65, and his partisans did little to move the popularity needle. Finally, the mustachioed former economics professor put aside his considerable ego and appealed to the more forceful Bouchard to take over the campaign. Within a short time, the yes campaign began to jell. In as many as four fiery speeches a day, Bouchard emphasized the grievances, ancient and modern, that Quebeckers harbor against English-speaking Canada. He talked about Ottawa's imposition of its new written constitution in 1982 after Quebec refused to sign it, and he hammered away at English Canada's rejection of the 1990 Meech Lake Accord, which would have recognized Quebec as a "distinct society" within the confederation.

By Oct. 17 the yes vote had pulled even in the polls--with a considerable number of voters still undecided. Analysts say it wasn't just Bouchard's persuasive rhetoric that was responsible for the turnaround, but also Chretien's unwise decision to stay aloof from the campaigning except to issue what Quebeckers regarded as threats, saying that in the event of a victory for the separatists there was no guarantee Ottawa would be willing to negotiate any special relationship with Quebec. "I would have to call it poor statesmanship," said Richard Challener, professor emeritus of North American history at Princeton University, "in that he thought it wasn't necessary to make an all-out effort." Reform Party leader Preston Manning, discussing the issue last week in Parliament, used harsher language, saying that Chretien's "lame-brained strategy brought this country to the brink of disaster."

By Oct. 24 private polls in the no camp were showing that the 10-point advantage had become a 7-point deficit; only then did Chretien launch a counteroffensive. He made a conciliatory national-television speech pleading with Quebec to stay in the confederation, then addressed a no rally in Montreal's Verdun district, vaguely promising that Quebec's grievances would be addressed.

But if any event turned the vote back around to the nos, it was the spontaneous unity rally that took Montreal by storm on Oct. 27. Tens of thousands of demonstrators from all over Canada poured into Quebec's largest city by plane, train, bus and bicycle to plead with the Quebeckers to vote no--helped along by discount fares offered by companies eager to preserve the nation. Waving huge Canadian and Quebec flags, they chanted, sang and preached for unity. Those who couldn't make the trip to Montreal attended local rallies and candlelight vigils and made a torrent of phone calls to Quebeckers. There was even a 3-km-long message carved into an Alberta wheat field that read C'EST MIEUX ENSEMBLE--It's Better Together--the unofficial slogan of the unity forces.

Popular newspaper columnnist Ben Wicks organized 25,000 people who paraded from the Ontario Legislature to Toronto City Hall. "The marvelous thing was there were no politicians," says Wicks. "It was a celebration of a family that was having a bit of a problem but was going to see it through. It was the first parade I've ever walked in. Suddenly I found myself waving a flag." Asserts Roger Richard of Calgary, who says he spent $20,000 of his own money crisscrossing Quebec distributing unity literature: "Participation of people across Canada made the difference. I think we took Canada for granted for too long. It was too much to lose; we all learned a lesson."

No serious analyst is arguing that the game is forever won, though. On the contrary, in the wake of the referendum Quebeckers are more determined than ever to extract from the Rest of Canada--as the press has dubbed it--as much autonomy to run their own affairs as they can get. And that feeling extends from the loneliest village in the Gaspe Peninsula to the boardrooms of Quebec multinationals. Andre Leroux, vice president of Leroux Steel, a $236 million Montreal-based company, says he voted no because he thought separation would hurt Quebec business and "because I no longer feel that my French culture is threatened." But Leroux added that change has to come, or "next time the businesspeople are going to vote for separation. If anyone thinks the results were for Canada not to change, they are making a big mistake."

Quebec's new self-confidence is a reflection of the province's transformation from the underdeveloped backwater it was for most of Canada's history to a hot spot of innovative technology-based industries with a gdp of $129 billion, with 50% of its production exported to the U.S. and world markets. If Quebec does not get what it wants out of Ottawa, remarks Jean-Pierre Begin, executive vice president of the Pomerleau Corp., a construction group with contracts from Montreal to Orlando, Florida, "we are now informed enough, strong enough, proud enough and rich enough to be boss of our own fates." In English-speaking Canada, notes Professor Christopher Fleury, a Canadian-affairs specialist at the University of Michigan, "there has always been a mood of dismissiveness, regarding Quebec as a political nuisance that will go away. That comfort factor is no longer there. If nothing happens, I don't find it at all unthinkable that the equilibrium will break on the yes side."

Under Quebec law, two referendums on the same subject cannot be held during the term of a single government, which means that technically a new vote will have to wait until 1999, the year the Parti Quebecois's mandate expires. But the new premier--Parizeau has said he will leave office by the end of the current assembly session on Dec. 23--would have the option of dissolving Parliament and calling new elections at any time. Moreover, the current assembly could simply vote out the second referendum restriction.

One of the most serious impediments to separation cannot be quickly changed: that is Quebec's economic malaise--something the sovereignty-obsessed Parizeau did little to address. The province suffers an 11% unemployment rate, and has not balanced its budget in years. Separation would entail Quebec's assuming its share of Canada's immense $417 billion national debt and adding it to its own $46 billion loan portfolio--at $6 million per capita already one of the highest in the industrialized world. Advocates for the no side argued persuasively that an independent Quebec--a less creditworthy entity than Canada--would have to immediately raise taxes and make heavy cuts in government expenditures.

But if economic considerations made some balk at voting yes, failure to resolve Quebeckers' sense of grievance could overcome those cautions next time--and few doubt there will be a next time. "They are going to come back at us five years from now, 10 years from now," lamented an influential Toronto businessman. "We have to win every time, but they only have to win once. It's pretty debilitating." Optimists are convinced that confederation still has a chance, that relations can be repaired, permanent solutions found. But if not, when the next referendum comes around, the rebellious French-speaking province may well tip non to oui, saying goodbye to Canada and giving birth to the new North American nation of Quebec.

--Reported by William A. McWhirter/Montreal and Gavin Scott/Ottawa