The strange transfiguration of Hannah Stubbs
“And the men admire me! Is all my youth to be wasted in prudery and
pretending I do not enjoy that which is the breath of my life--the
admiration of the other sex? O! you needn’t glare at me like that! You
need not attempt to strike me! I am well provided against your
assaults! And you are not the only one who has suffered through my
being _femme galante!_ Sorrento writhed under the knowledge more than
you do, and he tried to avenge himself on me, but you see it was
useless! He believed me to be a model of all the virtues, to the day
of his death--perhaps even now he does the same. But you men are all
alike. Fools where you should be wise, and blind where you ought to
see! Sorrento smiled when he should have been weeping, and struck when
there was no cause. Do you remember the story of Centi?”
“The man for whose sake Leonora deceived poor Ricardo! Yes! I see now,
he was right! You women are all alike! Born to lie and to deceive
those who trust in you! He did well to send her out of a world which
she disgraced.”
At this assertion, Hannah laughed jeeringly.
“O! she was none the worse for it, you may depend! When earthly lives
are cut shorter than the Creator intended, either by our own hands, or
those of others, they are not ended, though mortals may think so! We
all live on this earth just as long as was originally meant for
us--neither more nor less--in the flesh or out of it--but still
here,--sometimes for our own punishment, sometimes for that of others,
but still here,--_here_--where you and I stand to-day. Don’t waste
your pity on Leonora, for she does not need it!”
“You defend her action--doubtless you sympathise with her crime,” said
the Baron, sarcastically. “Perhaps you would wish to copy her example,
that is, if you have not already done so!”
“You are right,” replied the Marchesa, “I sympathise with her deeply.
She was young and beautiful and admired, and she loved life, and she
hadn’t fair play. You think with me, surely, that Sorrento did her a
grievous and irreparable wrong, in sending her so abruptly and cruelly
from a world she loved!”
“I do not! I think that she was rightly served for her infidelity, and
that she paid too little for her crimes. Her husband only took his
just revenge. Such women are better out of the world than in it!”
“So that is your opinion,” said the Marchesa, looking him straight in
the eyes, “what then of the way he met his own death? Was _that_ not a
just revenge also? a righteous retribution for the way he treated
Leonora? Was I not justified (who met my death at his hands) in
sending him also into another world, when it suited my convenience,
and he interfered with my plans?”
“You--_you?_” stammered the Baron, falling back a pace or two. A light
broke in upon him--a light which seemed to make both the Past and
Present clear--which absolved the innocent and condemned the guilty.
“You are _not_ Hannah Stubbs!” he exclaimed vehemently, as he sprang
towards her, “I see it all now! You are a devil in human form, who has
been traducing by your actions, one of the most simple and humble of
God’s creatures! You are not _Hannah Stubbs_--it is but her carcase
that you inhabit! You are Leonora d’Asissi! the false wife of the
Marchese di Sorrento!”
The face of the Marchesa seemed to change to that of a fiend as he
thus accused her--she drew herself up to her full height--her eyes
blazed fury--her arm was raised as if to strike. But she braved the
accusation out, returning it in full force upon herself.
“Go on! go on!” she cried, “you cannot say too much, nor yet enough to
harm me! I am all you say, Leonora d’Asissi, the false wife of your
dear friend--false to him, not with Centi only, but with everyone who
caught my wandering fancy. He believed every word I chose to tell him,
poor craven fool! who had the courage to avenge his wrongs, but not to
rest satisfied with his victory.
“Yes! I am Leonora d’Asissi, in the ugly, uncouth form of Hannah
Stubbs, but I have made her mine, and I will use her to the end--until
it pleases me to give her up of my own free will! You may claim this
rough body if you choose, but you must take my spirit with it. I will
possess it and animate it with my words and graces, and make it copy
my faults, and hate as I hated and love as I loved, until it ceases to
exist. Have I not shown my power over it already? Who but _I_ prompted
her to poison Sorrento? to coquette with Gueglielmo? to defy you? to
trick? to lie? to deceive? Who but I--I--I? and I will continue to
make her follow my will, until she ceases to breathe!”
“You shall not! I defy you in my turn,” exclaimed Von Steinberg, “this
country girl, uncouth and plain as she may be, is worth a thousand
such as you, with all your wit and beauty, and devilish fascinations.
She is my wife--I have promised to defend and protect her, and I will
drive your hateful spirit from her body, if I have to set hers free,
in order to accomplish it? By what right do you cling to a creature,
who is so much your superior? In the name of the Holy Trinity, I
command you to depart!”
Leonora laughed scornfully.
“And who gave me possession but yourself--you, and your dear friend
Ricardo? How could I have obtained such powerful hold of her if you
had not used this girl as an instrument to satisfy your curiosity
concerning the mysteries of Spiritualism?--if you had not made her
sit, night after night, to minister to your pleasure, until her brain
and body were both so wearied, that it was an easy matter for me, or
any other who had chosen, to oust her spirit and take its place. I
obtained first possession and have kept it ever since.”
“But to what end? What pleasure could it give you, wretched woman, to
add to your list of crimes, all of which you will have to expiate,
when you might have been advancing in grace and penitence? What object
had you in controlling this unfortunate child, who had never done you
a wrong, and making her odious by the execution of your unholy
wishes?”
“Because I am no longer able to commit crimes for myself--because the
execution gives me a reflected satisfaction--because, above all, my
thirst for revenge was ungratified, and I longed to make Sorrento feel
the same misery he had inflicted upon me! That is why I returned, not
to earth, for I have never left it, but to a human body, and if you
wish to know who helped me to it, it was _yourself_. Now! do you
understand?”
“Yes! but, by God, you shall persecute my poor wife no longer!”
exclaimed Von Steinberg. “She is stupid and ignorant, but she shall
not suffer for your crimes. I suspected her of murdering Ricardo--he
thinks so even himself--but I will clear her from the imputation. You
shall inhabit her body no more, from this time henceforward! It is
uncouth, as you said, but it is too pure for such as you. Depart at
once, I command you, and come here no more!”
“Command away!” cried Leonora, “it would take more than you to turn me
out of my lodging-house! I have got too firm a hold upon your pure and
unsophisticated wife! She didn’t seem so very pure, whilst she was
holding her secret assignations, unknown to you, with Gueglielmo, did
she? nor so unsophisticated when she gave séances to attract the
aristocracy to her house, and bound them to secrecy because _you_ so
highly disapproved of such doings. She is a lovely tool, but I wish
myself that she were a little more refined. It is so difficult to
train her large, flat tongue to lisp the soft Italian syllables, or to
play the coquette with those enormous hands of hers and those
splay-feet. I have almost made myself a laughing stock sometimes, by
forgetting they were not my own, and putting them forth for public
admiration.
“But still she is useful, poor Hannah--very useful at times--and I
have not the least intention of parting with her--not, at all events,
my friend, until you desert her for another woman! Are you not
surprised to hear me talk English so well? I learned most of that from
you, when you used to come to the Cottage at Hampstead to give me
lessons in etiquette, and sometimes in something else, eh, Baron? I
don’t think your very dear friend Ricardo would have trusted you alone
with his adored Leonora, had he known what a dangerous man you were!”
Karl von Steinberg was almost frothing at the mouth with rage that he
knew no fit means of expressing. He felt like those unfortunates of
whom we have read, who were tied hand and foot, whilst those they
loved best were tortured before their eyes, and they had no power to
redress their wrongs. He longed to shake Leonora out of Hannah’s body,
but what force could he use against air? He covered his face with his
hands and gave vent to a groan, which seemed to rend his
heart-strings. The vicious Spirit reviled his discomfiture with a
mocking laugh of confidence.
“That’s right! Groan away! That’s what all you mortals do, when you
have committed the error and there is no remedy for it! Why didn’t you
think of the consequences, when you made Hannah sit for you and the
Professor, till she lost her spirits and her strength and her power to
resist? And now you have had enough of me, and would like to send me
flying! But you won’t! I’m in the body of your lawful wife, and if you
don’t choose to live with me, you must make me a suitable allowance. I
shan’t weep, I assure you. I shall much prefer it to your company! Bad
taste in me, is it not? but the truth all the same!”
“Allowance! I would give my whole fortune to ensure this poor child
being set free from your evil influence. My God! the injury I have
done her! How can I know the extent of it, or if it will ever cease?
Poor ignorant Hannah! Heaven forgive us for bringing you within the
toils of such a devil as this!”
Leonora flaunted by him, and essayed to pass through the open door.
But Von Steinberg prevented her. “No! by Heaven!” he cried, “if you
will not quit her body, I can at least prevent your dishonouring it!
If you _will_ stay, you must, but you will remain a prisoner in one
room, and no eye shall witness your infamy and my disgrace.”
He put forth his hand to detain her, but she rushed past him, to the
landing.
CHAPTER XX.
The landing upon which their sleeping chamber opened, was a spacious
platform, covered with a carpet of the softest dyes. It held a couple
of settees--a towering palm in a majolica vase--a bronze statue,
bearing a lamp--and a stand of flowering plants. Full, rich curtains
drawn at the head of the staircase, partially concealed it from the
public view, beyond which the marble stairs, supported by carved oak
banisters, led down to the hall. It was a nook, fitted to form a
boudoir in the warm weather, and was always heated in winter, like the
rest of the house, by hot water pipes.
As the Marchesa rushed out upon this landing, the Baron, unable to
deter her action, followed as quickly as he could. He was fearful of
what she might do, or say. In her state of excitement, which bordered
on insanity, she might inform the entire household that she was not
the woman she appeared to be, and make them think she was a lunatic.
It was with the best intentions, therefore, that he pursued her.
“Leonora! Leonora!” he cried, “be careful! Come back, I entreat you,
and let us argue this matter together.”
But the Marchesa ran to the head of the staircase, and defied him.
“What do I care?” she cried, “let them all hear! Let them all come,
and I will tell them who _I_ am, and what _you_ are!”
She gave a kind of shrill cry, half of triumph and half of despair, as
she concluded, and Von Steinberg already heard a bustle below stairs,
as if the servants had been attracted by the noise and were hastening
to the rescue. He advanced to her side and essayed to place his hand