Any tale is anticlimatic after The Farewell, we ought to look i on (Olive) Fremstad as voice teacher, the occupation she took up, like many of her colleagues, upon her retirement. Fremstad was not a gentle coach. Only those with a spirit of iron could survive her course, for training included viewing the inside of a mysterious box that sat on the piano under a red silk scarf.

One day, Fremstad was about to unveil the secret for her secretary to see when a student showed up for a lesson.

“Don’t!” the student screamed in terror. “I won’t look at it again. I’d rather leave forever!”

“Leave then, poor child.” said Fremstad. “Better now than disappointment and heartbreak later.” Turning to her secretary as her student fled. Fremstad added, “She has no guts, that one. Opera is not for her.” Then she showed the contents of the box to the secretary.

It was a human head, pickled and sliced in half from cranium to neck.