PART 2 // chapter 7-1

길 한가운데에 우아한 마차가 서 있었고, 그 안에는 기운찬 회색 말 두 마리가 있었다. 마차에는 아무도 없었고, 마부는 마차에서 내려서 옆에 서 있었다. 말들은 고삐로 잡혀 있었다.... 많은 사람들이 모여 있었고, 경찰이 앞에 서 있었다. 그들 중 한 명이 바퀴 가까이에 있는 무언가에 불을 밝힌 랜턴을 들고 있었다. 모두가 수다를 떨고, 소리를 지르고, 환호했다. 마부는 어리둥절해 보였고, 계속해서 "이게 무슨 불행인가! 세상에, 이게 무슨 불행인가!"라고 말했다. 라스콜니코프는 할 수 있는 한 깊숙이 밀어넣었고, 마침내 소동과 흥미의 대상을 보는 데 성공했다. 땅에는 차에 치여 죽은 남자가 의식을 잃은 듯 누워 있었고, 피투성이였다. 그는 매우 형편없는 차림이었지만, 일꾼 같지는 않았다. 그의 머리와 얼굴에서 피가 흘러내렸다. 그의 얼굴은 으깨지고, 훼손되고, 훼손되었다. 그는 분명히 심하게 다쳤다. "자비로운 하늘!" 마부가 탄식했다. "내가 더 할 수 있는 게 뭐가 있겠어? 내가 빨리 운전했거나 그에게 소리치지 않았더라면, 나는 조용히 갔지, 서두르지 않았어. 모두가 내가 다른 사람들과 마찬가지로 가는 것을 볼 수 있었어. 취한 사람은 똑바로 걸을 수 없어, 우리 모두 알고 있지... 나는 그가 비틀거리며 거의 넘어질 뻔한 채로 길을 건너는 것을 보았어. 나는 다시, 두 번째, 세 번째로 소리를 지르고, 말을 붙잡았지만, 그는 그들의 발 아래로 똑바로 쓰러졌어! 그가 고의로 그랬거나, 아니면 매우 취했을 거야.... 말들은 어리고 겁먹을 준비가 되어 있었어... 그들은 놀랐고, 그는 비명을 질렀어... 그것이 그들을 더 악화시켰어. 그렇게 된 거야!" "바로 그런 거야." 군중 속의 목소리가 확인했다. "그는 소리를 질렀어, 맞아, 그는 세 번이나 소리를 질렀어." 다른 목소리가 선언했다. "세 번이었어, 우리 모두 들었어." 세 번째 목소리가 소리쳤다. 하지만 마부는 그다지 괴로워하거나 두려워하지 않았다. 마차는 어딘가에서 기다리고 있는 부유하고 중요한 사람의 것이 분명했다. 물론 경찰은 그의 약속을 어기지 않으려고 적지 않게 불안해했다. 그들이 해야 할 일은 다친 남자를 경찰서와 병원으로 데려가는 것뿐이었다. 아무도 그의 이름을 몰랐다. 그러는 동안 라스콜니코프는 끼어들어 그에게 더 가까이 다가갔다. 랜턴이 갑자기 불행한 남자의 얼굴을 비췄다. 그는 그를 알아보았다. "저는 그를 알아요! 저는 그를 알아요!" 그는 앞으로 밀며 소리쳤다. "그는 공무원에서 은퇴한 마르멜라도프예요. 그는 코젤의 집에서 가까이 살고 있어요.... 서둘러 의사를 불러요! 제가 지불할게요, 알겠어요?" 그는 주머니에서 돈을 꺼내 경찰관에게 보여주었다. 그는 격렬하게 흥분했다. 경찰은 그 남자가 누구인지 알아낸 것을 기뻐했다. 라스콜니코프는 자신의 이름과 주소를 말했고, 마치 아버지인 양 진지하게 경찰에 의식을 잃은 마르멜라도프를 즉시 숙소로 데려가 달라고 간청했다. "바로 여기, 세 채 떨어진 집입니다." 그는 간절히 말했다. "이 집은 부유한 독일인 코젤의 집입니다. 그는 틀림없이 취해서 집으로 가고 있었습니다. 저는 그를 알고 있습니다. 그는 술주정뱅이입니다. 그는 거기에 가족이 있고, 아내와 아이들이 있고, 딸이 한 명 있습니다... 그를 병원으로 데려가려면 시간이 걸릴 것이고, 집에는 의사가 있을 것입니다. 제가 지불하겠습니다, 제가 지불하겠습니다! 적어도 집에서는 돌보아질 것입니다... 그들은 즉시 그를 도울 것입니다. 하지만 당신이 그를 병원에 데려가기 전에 그는 죽을 것입니다." 그는 보이지 않는 무언가를 경찰의 손에 슬쩍 쥐어 넣었다. 하지만 그 일은 간단하고 정당했고, 어쨌든 도움이 더 가까이에 있었습니다. 그들은 다친 남자를 들어올렸고, 사람들이 자원하여 도와주었습니다. 코젤의 집은 30야드 떨어져 있었습니다. 라스콜니코프는 뒤따라 걸으며 마르멜라도프의 머리를 조심스럽게 잡고 길을 보여 주었다. "이쪽으로, 이쪽으로! 우리는 그를 머리부터 위층으로 데려가야 해. 돌아서! 내가 지불할게, 네가 그만한 가치가 있게 만들어 줄게." 그는 중얼거렸다. 카테리나 이바노브나는 방금 시작했는데, 그녀는 항상 틈이 날 때마다 창문에서 난로까지, 그리고 다시 창문에서 난로까지, 그리고 다시 창문에서 난로까지, 그리고 다시 창문에서 난로까지, 그녀의 작은 방에서 왔다 갔다 걸으며, 가슴에 팔을 접고, 혼잣말을 하고 기침을 했다. 요즘 그녀는 열 살짜리 딸인 폴렌카와 그 어느 때보다 더 많이 이야기하기 시작했다. 폴렌카는 이해하지 못하는 것이 많았지만, 어머니가 그녀를 필요로 한다는 것을 잘 알고 있었고, 그래서 항상 그녀의 크고 영리한 눈으로 그녀를 바라보며 이해하는 것처럼 보이려고 최선을 다했다. 이번에 폴렌카는 하루 종일 몸이 좋지 않아서 잠자리에 들 예정이었던 남동생의 옷을 벗기고 있었다. 그 소년은 밤에 세탁해야 하는 셔츠를 벗을 때까지 기다리고 있었다. 그는 의자에 똑바로 앉아서 움직이지 않고, 조용하고 진지한 표정을 지으며, 다리를 앞으로 쭉 뻗고 있었다. 발꿈치는 모으고 발가락은 폈다. 그는 어머니가 누이에게 하는 말을 듣고, 입술을 삐죽 내밀고 눈을 크게 뜬 채 완벽하게 움직이지 않고 앉아 있었다. 모든 착한 어린 소년들이 잠자리에 들기 위해 옷을 벗을 때 앉아 있어야 하는 것과 마찬가지였다. 더 어린 어린 소녀가 말 그대로 누더기를 입고 스크린 앞에 서서 차례를 기다리고 있었다. 계단으로 가는 문이 열려 있어서 다른 방에서 흘러들어오는 담배 연기 구름을 조금이나마 덜어줄 수 있었다. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER VIIAn elegant carriage stood in the middle of the road with a pair of spirited grey horses; there was no one in it, and the coachman had got off his box and stood by; the horses were being held by the bridle.... A mass of people had gathered round, the police standing in front. One of them held a lighted lantern which he was turning on something lying close to the wheels. Everyone was talking, shouting, exclaiming; the coachman seemed at a loss and kept repeating: “What a misfortune! Good Lord, what a misfortune!” Raskolnikov pushed his way in as far as he could, and succeeded at last in seeing the object of the commotion and interest.  On the ground a man who had been run over lay apparently unconscious, and covered with blood; he was very badly dressed, but not like a workman. Blood was flowing from his head and face; his face was crushed, mutilated and disfigured. He was evidently badly injured. “Merciful heaven!” wailed the coachman, “what more could I do? If I’d been driving fast or had not shouted to him, but I was going quietly, not in a hurry. Everyone could see I was going along just like everybody else. A drunken man can’t walk straight, we all know.... I saw him crossing the street, staggering and almost falling.  I shouted again and a second and a third time, then I held the horses in, but he fell straight under their feet! Either he did it on purpose or he was very tipsy.... The horses are young and ready to take fright... they started, he screamed... that made them worse. That’s how it happened!” “That’s just how it was,” a voice in the crowd confirmed. “He shouted, that’s true, he shouted three times,” another voice declared. “Three times it was, we all heard it,” shouted a third.  But the coachman was not very much distressed and frightened. It was evident that the carriage belonged to a rich and important person who was awaiting it somewhere; the police, of course, were in no little anxiety to avoid upsetting his arrangements. All they had to do was to take the injured man to the police station and the hospital. No one knew his name. Meanwhile Raskolnikov had squeezed in and stooped closer over him. The lantern suddenly lighted up the unfortunate man’s face. He recognised him. “I know him! I know him!” he shouted, pushing to the front.  “It’s a government clerk retired from the service, Marmeladov. He lives close by in Kozel’s house.... Make haste for a doctor! I will pay, see?” He pulled money out of his pocket and showed it to the policeman. He was in violent agitation.The police were glad that they had found out who the man was. Raskolnikov gave his own name and address, and, as earnestly as if it had been his father, he besought the police to carry the unconscious Marmeladov to his lodging at once. “Just here, three houses away,” he said eagerly, “the house belongs to Kozel, a rich German.  He was going home, no doubt drunk. I know him, he is a drunkard. He has a family there, a wife, children, he has one daughter....It will take time to take him to the hospital, and there is sure to be a doctor in the house. I’ll pay, I’ll pay! At least he will be looked after at home... they will help him at once. But he’ll die before you get him to the hospital.” He managed to slip something unseen into the policeman’s hand. But the thing was straightforward and legitimate, and in any case help was closer here. They raised the injured man; people volunteered to help. Kozel’s house was thirty yards away. Raskolnikov walked behind, carefully holding Marmeladov’s head and showing the way.  “This way, this way! We must take him upstairs head foremost. Turn round! I’ll pay, I’ll make it worth your while,” he muttered. Katerina Ivanovna had just begun, as she always did at every free moment, walking to and fro in her little room from window to stove and back again, with her arms folded across her chest, talking to herself and coughing. Of late she had begun to talk more than ever to her eldest girl, Polenka, a child of ten, who, though there was much she did not understand, understood very well that her mother needed her, and so always watched her with her big clever eyes and strove her utmost to appear to understand. This time Polenka was undressing her little brother, who had been unwell all day and was going to bed.  The boy was waiting for her to take off his shirt, which had to be washed at night. He was sitting straight and motionless on a chair, with a silent, serious face, with his legs stretched out straight before him—heels together and toes turned out. He was listening to what his mother was saying to his sister, sitting perfectly still with pouting lips and wide-open eyes, just as all good little boys have to sit when they are undressed to go to bed.  A little girl, still younger, dressed literally in rags, stood at the screen, waiting for her turn. The door on to the stairs was open to relieve them a little from the clouds of tobacco smoke which floated in from the other rooms and brought on long terrible fits of coughing in the poor, consumptive woman. Katerina Ivanovna seemed to have grown even thinner during that week and the hectic flush on her face was brighter than ever.