While the twelve strokes of midnight slowly sound in the night and the lights go out in the windows of old Montmartre, a devil is born in a puddle of rum, thrown by some drunkard. And to do his devilish job conscientiously, without wasting time. A cellar is nearby. The devil invites him to his gala evening. It raises the wind, swirls clouds of dust, and in a Sabbath atmosphere, the guests flock: puppets crumpled with party favors, waste and rejects of all kinds leave the trash cans and hurry towards the promised spectacle. The orchestra – jazz – is headlined by an old accordion player…