PART 2 // chapter 7-6

[모나리자]

"누구야? 누구야?" 그는 갑자기 굵고 헐떡거리는 목소리로, 흥분해서, 딸이 서 있는 문을 향해 공포에 질려 눈을 돌리고, 일어나려고 했다. "누워! 누워!" 카테리나 이바노브나가 소리쳤다. 그는 비정상적인 힘으로 팔꿈치로 몸을 지탱하는 데 성공했다. 그는 딸을 알아보지 못하는 듯, 잠시 동안 사납고 뚫어지게 딸을 바라보았다. 그는 딸이 그런 차림을 한 것을 본 적이 없었다. 그는 갑자기 딸을 알아보았다. 그녀의 굴욕과 화려한 옷차림에 짓밟히고 부끄러워하며, 죽어가는 아버지에게 작별 인사를 할 차례를 온순하게 기다리고 있었다. 그의 얼굴에는 극심한 고통이 드러났다. "소니아! 딸아! 용서해!" 그는 소리쳤고, 그녀에게 손을 내밀려고 했지만 균형을 잃고 소파에서 떨어져 얼굴을 아래로 하고 바닥에 쓰러졌다.

그들은 그를 들어올리려고 달려갔고, 소파에 눕혔다. 하지만 그는 죽어가고 있었다. 소냐는 희미한 비명을 지르며 달려가 그를 껴안고 움직이지 않고 그대로 있었다. 그는 그녀의 팔에 안겨 죽었다. "그는 원하는 것을 얻었어요." 카테리나 이바노브나는 남편의 시신을 보고 외쳤다. "음, 이제 뭘 해야 할까요? 어떻게 그를 묻어야 할까요! 내일 그들에게 무엇을 먹일 수 있을까요?" 라스콜니코프는 카테리나 이바노브나에게 다가갔다. "카테리나 이바노브나." 그는 말을 시작했다. "지난주에 당신의 남편이 그의 모든 삶과 상황을 말해 주었습니다... 저를 믿으세요, 그는 당신에 대해 열렬한 경의를 표하며 말했습니다.

그날 저녁, 그가 당신 모두에게 얼마나 헌신적이고 특히 카테리나 이바노브나를 얼마나 사랑하고 존경하는지 알게 된 이후로, 그의 불행한 약점에도 불구하고, 그날 저녁부터 우리는 친구가 되었습니다... 이제 제가... 무언가를 하도록 허락해 주세요... 죽은 친구에게 진 빚을 갚기 위해서요. 여기 20루블이 있을 것 같아요. 그리고 그것이 당신에게 도움이 될 수 있다면... 저는... 간단히 말해서, 다시 올게요. 반드시 다시 올게요... 아마도 내일 다시 올게요... 안녕!" 그리고 그는 재빨리 방에서 나가 군중 속을 비집고 계단으로 들어갔다.

하지만 군중 속에서 그는 사고 소식을 듣고 직접 지시를 내리러 온 니코딤 포미치와 갑자기 부딪혔다. 그들은 경찰서에서 사고가 난 이후로 만난 적이 없었지만, 니코딤 포미치는 그를 금세 알아봤다. "아, 당신이신가요?" 그가 물었다.

"그는 죽었어요." 라스콜니코프가 대답했다. "의사와 신부는 죽었고, 모두 그럴 만한 일이었어요. 불쌍한 여자를 너무 걱정하지 마세요. 그녀는 지금 폐결핵에 걸려 있어요. 가능하다면 그녀를 격려해 주세요... 당신은 친절한 사람이에요, 알아요..." 그는 미소를 지으며 그의 얼굴을 똑바로 바라보며 덧붙였다. "하지만 당신은 피투성이군요." 니코딤 포미치가 라스콜니코프의 조끼에 묻은 새로운 얼룩을 램프 불빛에서 보고 관찰했습니다.

"그래요... 저는 피투성이입니다." 라스콜니코프가 이상한 어조로 말했습니다. 그러고 나서 그는 미소를 지으며 고개를 끄덕이고 아래층으로 내려갔습니다. 그는 천천히 그리고 의도적으로 걸어 내려갔고, 열이 났지만 그것을 의식하지 못했고, 갑자기 그의 안에서 솟아오르는 새로운 압도적인 생명력과 힘의 감각에 완전히 몰두했습니다. 이 감각은 ​​사형을 선고받고 갑자기 사면을 받은 사람의 감각과 비교할 수 있습니다. 계단을 반쯤 내려가자 그는 집으로 가는 길에 신부에게 추월당했습니다. 라스콜니코프는 그를 지나가게 하고 그와 조용히 인사를 나누었습니다.

그는 마지막 계단을 내려가려고 할 때 뒤에서 빠른 발소리가 들렸습니다. 누군가가 그를 따라잡았습니다. 폴렌카였습니다. 그녀는 그를 쫓아가며 "잠깐! 잠깐!"하고 외쳤습니다. 그는 돌아섰습니다. 그녀는 계단 아래에 있었고 그보다 한 걸음 위에 멈췄습니다. 마당에서 희미한 빛이 들어왔습니다. 라스콜니코프는 그 아이의 얇지만 예쁜 얼굴을 알아볼 수 있었고, 밝은 아이 같은 미소로 그를 바라보았다.

그녀는 그에게 기꺼이 전할 메시지를 가지고 달려갔다. "말해, 이름이 뭐야?... 그리고 어디에 살고 있어?" 그녀는 숨가쁘게 말했다. 그는 두 손을 그녀의 어깨에 얹고 일종의 황홀함으로 그녀를 바라보았다. 그녀를 보는 것이 그에게는 너무나 기뻤고, 그는 왜 그런지 말할 수 없었다. "누가 보냈어?" "소니아 자매가 나를 보냈어." 그 소녀가 더욱 밝게 웃으며 대답했다.

"소니아 자매가 널 보냈다는 걸 알았어." "엄마도 나를 보냈어... 소니아 자매가 나를 보냈을 때, 엄마도 다가와서 '빨리 달려, 폴렌카.'라고 말했어." "소니아 자매를 사랑하니?" "나는 누구보다도 그녀를 사랑해." 폴렌카가 특유의 진지함으로 대답했고, 그녀의 미소는 더욱 엄숙해졌다. "그리고 나를 사랑할래?" 대답을 하려고 그는 어린 소녀의 얼굴이 그에게 다가오는 것을 보았고, 그녀의 두툼한 입술이 순진하게 그에게 키스하려고 내밀었다. 갑자기 그녀의 막대기처럼 얇은 팔이 그를 꽉 움켜쥐었고, 그녀의 머리는 그의 어깨에 얹혔고, 어린 소녀는 부드럽게 울면서 얼굴을 그에게 밀착시켰다.

“Who’s that? Who’s that?” he said suddenly in a thick gasping voice, in agitation, turning his eyes in horror towards the door where his daughter was standing, and trying to sit up. “Lie down! Lie do-own!” cried Katerina Ivanovna. With unnatural strength he had succeeded in propping himself on his elbow. He looked wildly and fixedly for some time on his daughter, as though not recognising her. He had never seen her before in such attire. Suddenly he recognised her, crushed and ashamed in her humiliation and gaudy finery, meekly awaiting her turn to say good-bye to her dying father. His face showed intense suffering. “Sonia! Daughter! Forgive!” he cried, and he tried to hold out his hand to her, but losing his balance, he fell off the sofa, face downwards on the floor.

They rushed to pick him up, they put him on the sofa; but he was dying. Sonia with a faint cry ran up, embraced him and remained so without moving. He died in her arms. “He’s got what he wanted,” Katerina Ivanovna cried, seeing her husband’s dead body. “Well, what’s to be done now? How am I to bury him! What can I give them to-morrow to eat?” Raskolnikov went up to Katerina Ivanovna. “Katerina Ivanovna,” he began, “last week your husband told me all his life and circumstances.... Believe me, he spoke of you with passionate reverence.

From that evening, when I learnt how devoted he was to you all and how he loved and respected you especially, Katerina Ivanovna, in spite of his unfortunate weakness, from that evening we became friends.... Allow me now... to do something... to repay my debt to my dead friend. Here are twenty roubles, I think—and if that can be of any assistance to you, then... I... in short, I will come again, I will be sure to come again... I shall, perhaps, come again to-morrow.... Good-bye!” And he went quickly out of the room, squeezing his way through the crowd to the stairs.

But in the crowd he suddenly jostled against Nikodim Fomitch, who had heard of the accident and had come to give instructions in person. They had not met since the scene at the police station, but Nikodim Fomitch knew him instantly. “Ah, is that you?” he asked him.

“He’s dead,” answered Raskolnikov. “The doctor and the priest have been, all as it should have been. Don’t worry the poor woman too much, she is in consumption as it is. Try and cheer her up, if possible... you are a kind-hearted man, I know...” he added with a smile, looking straight in his face. “But you are spattered with blood,” observed Nikodim Fomitch, noticing in the lamplight some fresh stains on Raskolnikov’s waistcoat.

“Yes... I’m covered with blood,” Raskolnikov said with a peculiar air; then he smiled, nodded and went downstairs. He walked down slowly and deliberately, feverish but not conscious of it, entirely absorbed in a new overwhelming sensation of life and strength that surged up suddenly within him. This sensation might be compared to that of a man condemned to death who has suddenly been pardoned. Halfway down the staircase he was overtaken by the priest on his way home; Raskolnikov let him pass, exchanging a silent greeting with him.

He was just descending the last steps when he heard rapid footsteps behind him. Someone overtook him; it was Polenka. She was running after him, calling “Wait! wait!” He turned round. She was at the bottom of the staircase and stopped short a step above him. A dim light came in from the yard. Raskolnikov could distinguish the child’s thin but pretty little face, looking at him with a bright childish smile.

She had run after him with a message which she was evidently glad to give. “Tell me, what is your name?... and where do you live?” she said hurriedly in a breathless voice. He laid both hands on her shoulders and looked at her with a sort of rapture. It was such a joy to him to look at her, he could not have said why. “Who sent you?” “Sister Sonia sent me,” answered the girl, smiling still more brightly.

“I knew it was sister Sonia sent you.” “Mamma sent me, too... when sister Sonia was sending me, mamma came up, too, and said ‘Run fast, Polenka.’” “Do you love sister Sonia?” “I love her more than anyone,” Polenka answered with a peculiar earnestness, and her smile became graver. “And will you love me?” By way of answer he saw the little girl’s face approaching him, her full lips naïvely held out to kiss him. Suddenly her arms as thin as sticks held him tightly, her head rested on his shoulder and the little girl wept softly, pressing her face against him.