PART 3 // chapter 2-1

[모나리자]

라주미힌은 다음날 아침 8시에 깨어났는데, 괴로워하고 심각했다. 그는 새롭고 예상치 못한 난제에 직면했다. 그는 자신이 그런 기분으로 깨어날 것이라고는 전혀 예상하지 못했다. 그는 전날의 모든 세부 사항을 기억했고, 완벽하게 새로운 경험이 자신에게 닥쳤다는 것을 알았고,

그 전에는 전혀 알지 못했던 인상을 받았다.

동시에 그는 상상력을 불러일으킨 꿈이 절망적으로 이룰 수 없는 것이라는 것을 분명히 알았다. 너무나 이룰 수 없어서 그는 그것을 부끄럽게 여겼고, 그는 "세 번 저주받은 어제"가 물려준 다른 더 실용적인 걱정과 어려움으로 서둘러 넘어갔다. 전날의 가장 끔찍한 기억은 그가 술에 취했기 때문일 뿐만 아니라, 어리석은 질투심으로 젊은 소녀의 지위를 이용해 그녀의 약혼자를 학대했기 때문에 자신을 "비열하고 못된" 사람으로 보여줬다는 것이다. 그는 그들의 상호 관계와 의무에 대해 전혀 알지 못했고, 그 남자 자신에 대해 거의 알지 못했다.

그리고 그가 그렇게 성급하고 방심한 방식으로 그를 비판할 권리가 무엇이었을까요? 누가 그의 의견을 물었을까요? 아브도티아 로마노브나 같은 생물이 돈 때문에 가치 없는 남자와 결혼할 수 있다고 생각할 수 있을까요? 그러니 그에게는 무언가가 있어야 합니다. 숙박 시설? 하지만 결국 숙박 시설의 성격을 어떻게 알 수 있을까요?

그는 아파트를 꾸미고 있었습니다... 푸! 얼마나 비열한 일입니까! 그리고 그가 취했다는 것을 어떻게 정당화할 수 있을까요? 그런 어리석은 변명은 더욱 모욕적이었습니다! 와인에는 진실이 있고 진실은 모두 드러났습니다. "즉, 그의 거칠고 시기하는 마음의 모든 더러움"! 그리고 그런 꿈이 그에게 허용될 수 있을까요, 라주미힌? 그런 여자 옆에 그는 무엇이었을까요? 그는 어젯밤의 술 취한 시끄러운 허풍쟁이였죠?

그렇게 터무니없고 냉소적인 대조를 상상할 수 있었을까요? 라주미힌은 그 생각에 필사적으로 얼굴을 붉혔고 갑자기 어제 밤 계단에서 집주인이 아브도티아 로마노브나를 질투할 것이라고 말한 기억이 생생하게 떠올랐다... 참을 수 없었다. 그는 주먹을 주방 난로에 세게 내리쳤고, 손을 다쳤고 벽돌 하나를 날려버렸다.

"물론이지." 그는 1분 후 자책감에 사로잡혀 중얼거렸다. "물론이지, 이 모든 불명예는 결코 지워지거나 매끈해질 수 없지... 그러니 생각하는 것조차 쓸모가 없고, 나는 조용히 그들에게 가서 내 의무를 다해야 해... 조용히... 용서를 구하지 않고, 아무 말도 하지 않아야 해... 이제 모든 것이 끝났으니까!"

하지만 그는 옷을 입으면서 평소보다 더 주의 깊게 자신의 옷을 살펴보았다. 그는 다른 정장을 가지고 있지 않았다. 만약 가지고 있었다면 아마 입지 않았을 것이다. "나는 그것을 입지 않기로 했을 거야." 하지만 어떤 경우든 그는 냉소주의자이자 더럽고 게으른 사람으로 남을 수 없었다. 그는 다른 사람들의 감정을 상하게 할 권리가 없었다. 특히 그들이 그의 도움이 필요하고 그를 만나달라고 부탁할 때 말이다.

그는 옷을 조심스럽게 빗었다. 그의 린넨은 항상 괜찮았다. 그 점에서 그는 특히 깨끗했다. 그는 그날 아침 꼼꼼하게 씻었다. 그는 나스타샤에게서 비누를 구했다. 그는 머리, 목, 특히 손을 씻었다.

그의 덥수룩한 턱을 면도할지 말지에 대한 질문에 (프라스코비야 파블로브나는 고인이 된 남편이 남긴 큰 면도날을 가지고 있었다), 그 질문은 화가 나서 부정적으로 대답했다. "그대로 두자! 그들이 내가 의도적으로 면도했다고 생각한다면...? 그들은 확실히 그렇게 생각할 것이다! 결코 그렇지 않다!" "그리고... 가장 나쁜 것은 그가 너무 거칠고 더러워서 술집 주인의 매너를 가지고 있었다는 것이다. 그리고... 심지어 신사의 필수 요소를 가지고 있다는 것을 알고 있다고 인정하더라도... 그게 자랑스러울 것이 무엇이 있겠는가?

모든 사람은 신사가 되어야 하고 그 이상이어야 합니다... 그리고 그래도

(그는 기억했다) 그도 작은 일을 저질렀다... 정확히 말해서 부정직하지는 않았지만... 그리고 그는 때때로 어떤 생각을 했는가; 흠... 그리고 그 모든 것을 아브도티아 로마노브나 옆에 두는 것! 혼란스러워! 그럴 수밖에 없어! 글쎄, 그는 매너에서 더럽고 기름지고 엉뚱한 짓을 하려고 했지만 신경 쓰지 않을 거야! 그는 더 나쁠 거야!”

그가 그런 독백에 빠져 있을 때 프라스코비야 파블로브나의 응접실에서 밤을 보낸 조시모프가 들어왔다. 그는 집에 가는 길이었고 먼저 병자를 보려고 서둘렀다. 라주미힌은 라스콜니코프가 잠꾸러기처럼 잠을 자고 있다고 그에게 알렸다. 조시모프는 그들이 그를 깨우지 말라고 명령했고 11시경에 다시 만나겠다고 약속했다.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER II

Razumihin waked up next morning at eight o’clock, troubled and serious. He found himself confronted with many new and unlooked-for perplexities. He had never expected that he would ever wake up feeling like that. He remembered every detail of the previous day and he knew that a perfectly novel experience had befallen him, that he had received

an impression unlike anything he had known before.

At the same time he recognised clearly that the dream which had fired his imagination was hopelessly unattainable—so unattainable that he felt positively ashamed of it, and he hastened to pass to the other more practical cares and difficulties bequeathed him by that “thrice accursed yesterday.” The most awful recollection of the previous day was the way he had shown himself “base and mean,” not only because he had been drunk, but because he had taken advantage of the young girl’s position to abuse her fiancé in his stupid jealousy, knowing nothing of their mutual relations and obligations and next to nothing of the man himself.

And what right had he to criticise him in that hasty and unguarded manner? Who had asked for his opinion? Was it thinkable that such a creature as Avdotya Romanovna would be marrying an unworthy man for money? So there must be something in him. The lodgings? But after all how could he know the character of the lodgings?

He was furnishing a flat... Foo! how despicable it all was! And what justification was it that he was drunk? Such a stupid excuse was even more degrading! In wine is truth, and the truth had all come out, “that is, all the uncleanness of his coarse and envious heart”! And would such a dream ever be permissible to him, Razumihin? What was he beside such a girl—he, the drunken noisy braggart of last night?

Was it possible to imagine so absurd and cynical a juxtaposition? Razumihin blushed desperately at the very idea and suddenly the recollection forced itself vividly upon him of how he had said last night on the stairs that the landlady would be jealous of Avdotya Romanovna... that was simply intolerable. He brought his fist down heavily on the kitchen stove, hurt his hand and sent one of the bricks flying.

“Of course,” he muttered to himself a minute later with a feeling of self-abasement, “of course, all these infamies can never be wiped out or smoothed over... and so it’s useless even to think of it, and I must go to them in silence and do my duty... in silence, too... and not ask forgiveness, and say nothing... for all is lost now!”

And yet as he dressed he examined his attire more carefully than usual. He hadn’t another suit—if he had had, perhaps he wouldn’t have put it on. “I would have made a point of not putting it on.” But in any case he could not remain a cynic and a dirty sloven; he had no right to offend the feelings of others, especially when they were in need of his assistance and asking him to see them.

He brushed his clothes carefully. His linen was always decent; in that respect he was especially clean. He washed that morning scrupulously—he got some soap from Nastasya—he washed his hair, his neck and especially his hands.

When it came to the question whether to shave his stubbly chin or not (Praskovya Pavlovna had capital razors that had been left by her late husband), the question was angrily answered in the negative. “Let it stay as it is! What if they think that I shaved on purpose to...? They certainly would think so! Not on any account!” “And... the worst of it was he was so coarse, so dirty, he had the manners of a pothouse; and... and even admitting that he knew he had some of the essentials of a gentleman... what was there in that to be proud of?

Everyone ought to be a gentleman and more than that... and all the same

(he remembered) he, too, had done little things... not exactly dishonest, and yet.... And what thoughts he sometimes had; hm... and to set all that beside Avdotya Romanovna! Confound it! So be it! Well, he’d make a point then of being dirty, greasy, pothouse in his manners and he wouldn’t care! He’d be worse!”

He was engaged in such monologues when Zossimov, who had spent the night in Praskovya Pavlovna’s parlour, came in. He was going home and was in a hurry to look at the invalid first. Razumihin informed him that Raskolnikov was sleeping like a dormouse. Zossimov gave orders that they shouldn’t wake him and promised to see him again about eleven.