PART 3 // chapter 3-3

[모나리자]

"아마 그가 나를 거의 미친놈이라고 생각하는 건 정말 좋은 일일 거야." 라스콜니코프는 생각했다. "아, 건강한 사람도 똑같은 짓을 하잖아." 두니아가 불안한 표정으로 조시모프를 바라보며 말했다. "당신의 관찰에는 어느 정도 진실이 있어." 후자가 대답했다. "그런 의미에서 우리는 모두 종종 미친놈과 비슷하지만, 약간 다른 점이 있다면 미친 사람은 좀 더 미친 놈이라는 거야. 왜냐하면 우리는 선을 그어야 하거든. 정상적인 사람은 거의 없어. 수십 명, 아니 수십만 명 중에 한 명도 만날 수 없어." 조시모프가 좋아하는 주제에 대해 떠드는 중에 "미친놈"이라는 단어를 부주의하게 꺼내자 모두가 눈살을 찌푸렸다.

라스콜니코프는 주의를 기울이지 않는 듯 앉아 창백한 입술에 이상한 미소를 지으며 생각에 잠겼다. 그는 여전히 무언가에 대해 생각하고 있었다. "음, 차에 치인 사람은 어때? 내가 말을 가로채서!" 라주미힌이 급히 소리쳤다. "뭐라고?" 라스콜니코프는 깨어난 듯했다. "아... 그를 숙소로 데려가는 데 도움이 되어 피가 튀었어요. 그런데, 엄마, 어제 용서받을 수 없는 짓을 했어요. 정말 제정신이 아니었어요. 당신이 보내준 돈을 전부... 장례식을 위해 그의 아내에게 주었어요. 그녀는 지금 과부이고, 폐결핵에 걸렸고, 가난한 사람이에요... 세 명의 어린아이가 굶고 있고... 집에는 아무것도 없고... 딸도 있어요... 아마 당신이 그들을 봤다면 직접 주었을 거예요.

하지만 그럴 권리가 없었어요. 특히 당신이 돈이 얼마나 필요한지 알고 있었기 때문에요. 다른 사람을 돕기 위해서는 그럴 권리가 있어야 해요. 그렇지 않으면 Crevez, chiens, si vous n’êtes pas content." 그는 웃었다. "맞아요, 두니아?" "아니요, 그렇지 않아요." 두니아가 단호하게 대답했다. "어머! 당신도 이상이 있잖아요." 그는 그녀를 증오하는 듯한 표정으로 바라보며 비꼬는 듯한 미소를 지으며 중얼거렸다. "그걸 생각했어야 했는데.... 글쎄, 그건 칭찬할 만한 일이고, 당신에게 더 좋죠... 그리고 당신이 넘지 않는 선에 도달하면, 당신은 불행해질 거고... 만약 넘으면, 아마 당신은 더 불행해질 거예요... 하지만 그 모든 게 말도 안 되는 소리에요." 그는 짜증내며 덧붙여 말했고, 끌려가는 것에 화가 났다.

"저는 그저 당신의 용서를 구하고 싶었을 뿐이에요, 어머니." 그는 짧고 갑작스럽게 결론을 내렸다. "그만해요, 로디아, 당신이 하는 모든 일이 아주 훌륭하다는 걸 확신해요." 그의 어머니는 기뻐하며 말했다. "너무 확신하지 마." 그는 대답하며 입을 틀어 미소를 지었다. 침묵이 흘렀다. 이 모든 대화와 침묵, 화해, 용서에는 어떤 제약이 있었고, 모두가 그것을 느꼈다. "마치 그들이 나를 두려워하는 것 같아요." 라스콜니코프는 어머니와 누이를 곁눈질로 바라보며 생각했다. 풀케리아 알렉산드로브나는 침묵을 오래 지킬수록 실제로 더 소심해졌다.

"하지만 그들이 없는 동안 나는 그들을 너무나 사랑하는 듯했다." 그의 머릿속에 번쩍였다. "알고 있니, 로디아, 마르파 페트로브나가 죽었다." 풀케리아 알렉산드로브나가 갑자기 말했다.

"뭐, 마르파 페트로브나?" "맙소사, 마르파 페트로브나 스비드리가일로프. 그녀에 대해 너에게 너무 많은 편지를 썼어." "아-아-아! 네, 기억나.... 그녀가 죽었구나! 아, 정말?" 그는 마치 깨어난 듯이 갑자기 몸을 일으켰다. "그녀는 무엇 때문에 죽었어?" "상상해 봐, 아주 갑자기." 풀케리아 알렉산드로브나는 그의 호기심에 고무되어 서둘러 대답했다. "내가 그 편지를 보낸 바로 그날이야! 믿을 수 있겠어, 그 끔찍한 남자가 그녀의 죽음의 원인인 듯해. 그들은 그가 그녀를 끔찍하게 때렸다고 해."

"왜, 그들은 그렇게 사이가 나빴어?" 그는 여동생에게 말을 걸며 물었다. "전혀 그렇지 않아. 사실은 그 반대야. 그녀와 함께 있을 때, 그는 항상 매우 인내심이 많았고, 심지어 사려 깊었다. 사실, 결혼 생활의 7년 동안 그는 그녀에게 양보했고, 실제로 많은 경우에 너무 많이 양보했다. 갑자기 그는 인내심을 잃은 것 같다." "그럼 그가 7년 동안 스스로를 통제했다면 그렇게 끔찍할 수는 없었을 거야? 당신은 그를 변호하는 것 같아, 두니아?" "아니, 아니, 그는 끔찍한 남자야! 그보다 더 끔찍한 건 상상할 수 없어!" 두니아가 거의 몸을 떨며 눈썹을 찌푸리고 생각에 잠겼다.

"그 일은 아침에 일어났습니다." 풀케리아 알렉산드로브나가 서둘러 말을 이었다. "그리고 바로 그 후에 그녀는 말들을 저녁 식사 후 바로 마을로 몰고 가라고 명령했습니다. 그녀는 항상 그런 경우에 마을로 몰고 가곤 했습니다. 그녀는 아주 맛있는 저녁을 먹었다고 들었습니다..." "매를 맞은 후에요?" "그게 그녀의... 습관이었습니다. 그리고 저녁 식사 후 바로, 늦게 시작하지 않기 위해, 그녀는 목욕탕에 갔습니다.... 알다시피, 그녀는 목욕으로 어떤 치료를 받고 있었습니다. 그곳에는 차가운 샘이 있었고, 그녀는 매일 정기적으로 목욕을 했고, 물에 들어가자마자 갑자기 뇌졸중을 일으켰습니다!" "그럴 것 같습니다." 조시모프가 말했다.

"그리고 그는 그녀를 심하게 때렸나요?" "그게 무슨 상관이에요!" 두냐가 끼어들었다. "음! 하지만 왜 그런 소문을 우리에게 전하고 싶어 하는지 모르겠어요, 어머니." 라스콜니코프가 마치 자기도 모르게 짜증을 내며 말했다. "아, 자기야, 무슨 말을 해야 할지 모르겠어." 풀케리아 알렉산드로브나가 말을 끊었다. "왜, 다들 날 무서워하는 거야?" 그는 억지로 미소를 지으며 물었다. "그건 확실히 사실이야." 두니아가 말하며 오빠를 똑바로, 엄하게 바라보았다. "어머니는 계단을 올라오면서 공포에 질려 십자가를 그었다." 그의 얼굴은 경련을 일으킨 듯 움직였다.

4183 P

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“Perhaps it’s a good thing really that he should think me almost a madman,” thought Raskolnikov. “Why, people in perfect health act in the same way too,” observed Dounia, looking uneasily at Zossimov. “There is some truth in your observation,” the latter replied. “In that sense we are certainly all not infrequently like madmen, but with the slight difference that the deranged are somewhat madder, for we must draw a line. A normal man, it is true, hardly exists. Among dozens—perhaps hundreds of thousands—hardly one is to be met with.” At the word “madman,” carelessly dropped by Zossimov in his chatter on his favourite subject, everyone frowned.

Raskolnikov sat seeming not to pay attention, plunged in thought with a strange smile on his pale lips. He was still meditating on something. “Well, what about the man who was run over? I interrupted you!” Razumihin cried hastily. “What?” Raskolnikov seemed to wake up. “Oh... I got spattered with blood helping to carry him to his lodging. By the way, mamma, I did an unpardonable thing yesterday. I was literally out of my mind. I gave away all the money you sent me... to his wife for the funeral. She’s a widow now, in consumption, a poor creature... three little children, starving... nothing in the house... there’s a daughter, too... perhaps you’d have given it yourself if you’d seen them.

But I had no right to do it I admit, especially as I knew how you needed the money yourself. To help others one must have the right to do it, or else Crevez, chiens, si vous n’êtes pas contents.” He laughed, “That’s right, isn’t it, Dounia?” “No, it’s not,” answered Dounia firmly. “Bah! you, too, have ideals,” he muttered, looking at her almost with hatred, and smiling sarcastically. “I ought to have considered that.... Well, that’s praiseworthy, and it’s better for you... and if you reach a line you won’t overstep, you will be unhappy... and if you overstep it, maybe you will be still unhappier.... But all that’s nonsense,” he added irritably, vexed at being carried away.

“I only meant to say that I beg your forgiveness, mother,” he concluded, shortly and abruptly. “That’s enough, Rodya, I am sure that everything you do is very good,” said his mother, delighted. “Don’t be too sure,” he answered, twisting his mouth into a smile. A silence followed. There was a certain constraint in all this conversation, and in the silence, and in the reconciliation, and in the forgiveness, and all were feeling it. “It is as though they were afraid of me,” Raskolnikov was thinking to himself, looking askance at his mother and sister. Pulcheria Alexandrovna was indeed growing more timid the longer she kept silent.

“Yet in their absence I seemed to love them so much,” flashed through his mind. “Do you know, Rodya, Marfa Petrovna is dead,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna suddenly blurted out.

“What Marfa Petrovna?” “Oh, mercy on us—Marfa Petrovna Svidrigaïlov. I wrote you so much about her.” “A-a-h! Yes, I remember.... So she’s dead! Oh, really?” he roused himself suddenly, as if waking up. “What did she die of?” “Only imagine, quite suddenly,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna answered hurriedly, encouraged by his curiosity. “On the very day I was sending you that letter! Would you believe it, that awful man seems to have been the cause of her death. They say he beat her dreadfully.”

“Why, were they on such bad terms?” he asked, addressing his sister. “Not at all. Quite the contrary indeed. With her, he was always very patient, considerate even. In fact, all those seven years of their married life he gave way to her, too much so indeed, in many cases. All of a sudden he seems to have lost patience.” “Then he could not have been so awful if he controlled himself for seven years? You seem to be defending him, Dounia?” “No, no, he’s an awful man! I can imagine nothing more awful!” Dounia answered, almost with a shudder, knitting her brows, and sinking into thought.

“That had happened in the morning,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna went on hurriedly. “And directly afterwards she ordered the horses to be harnessed to drive to the town immediately after dinner. She always used to drive to the town in such cases. She ate a very good dinner, I am told....” “After the beating?” “That was always her... habit; and immediately after dinner, so as not to be late in starting, she went to the bath-house.... You see, she was undergoing some treatment with baths. They have a cold spring there, and she used to bathe in it regularly every day, and no sooner had she got into the water when she suddenly had a stroke!” “I should think so,” said Zossimov.

“And did he beat her badly?” “What does that matter!” put in Dounia. “H’m! But I don’t know why you want to tell us such gossip, mother,” said Raskolnikov irritably, as it were in spite of himself. “Ah, my dear, I don’t know what to talk about,” broke from Pulcheria Alexandrovna. “Why, are you all afraid of me?” he asked, with a constrained smile. “That’s certainly true,” said Dounia, looking directly and sternly at her brother. “Mother was crossing herself with terror as she came up the stairs.” His face worked, as though in convulsion.