In this home nothing was wanting to make it a most delightful place of residence for even such a spoiled child as a prima donna. But alas! this happy life was destined to end very soon. Colonel Mapleson in his memoirs declared that Gerster was a most difficult person to get along with, and now Signor Gardini was forced to the same conclusion, for it was reported that the beautiful prima donna was in the habit of giving way to frightful outbursts of temper. To this cause is attributed the loss of her voice, as well as the loss of her husband. The "Villa Mezzana" was closed, and portions of the estate let to various small farmers. Madame Gerster went with her children to Paris, but soon after moved to Berlin and became a vocal teacher. She was only twenty-eight years of age when at the height of her fame, and at thirty her career was over. Referring to Mapleson once more, who was never inclined to mince matters when he was annoyed by a prima donna, we get the following anecdote. While travelling between Louisville and Chicago, the sleeping-car in which Gerster was travelling broke down and had to be side-tracked. Madame Gerster was requested to change into another car, as it was impossible to continue in the one which she was occupying, but she positively refused to move. She had paid to ride in that car, and in that car would she go and in no other. No arguments could induce her to change her mind. At last an expedient was discovered,--the station agent at the nearest place was a remarkably fine-looking man. He was dressed up and introduced to her as the president of the road. He flattered her till she began to soften, and then told her that the company would be under great obligations to her if she would consent to use another car. He had a Brussels carpet laid from the door of her car to that which she was to occupy, and the lady, pleased at the deference shown to her by so high an official, at last consented to make the change. Some of the press criticisms of Gerster's performances during her tour in 1881 were highly amusing. The following were selected from a paper published in a large Southern city: "Mrs. Gerster's Lucia is the Lucia of our youth, and our first ecstasies arose as from a nest of flowers as fresh and adorable as ever," whatever that may mean. What it ordinarily described as a walk was pictured in the following mysterious sentence: "Her light tread as of a restless and frightened bird." Some of her trills were described as "aflame with passionate intoxication," while others were "white and wet with the tears of grief." All this excellence was manifested with "never a scream to mar her singing." Such admirable descriptions must have gone far towards reconciling those who were unable to see and hear the great songstress.