PART 3 // chapter 5-9

[모나리자]

"글쎄요, 알다시피... 저는 그것을 제대로 표현하는 방법을 정말 모르겠어요.... 장난기 어린 심리적인 생각이에요.... 당신이 기사를 쓸 때, 당신은 분명 도움이 될 수 없었을 거예요, 하하하! 자신을... 약간, '특별한' 사람으로 상상하면서, 당신의 의미에서 새로운 단어를 말하는... 그렇죠, 그렇지 않나요?" "아마도요." 라스콜니코프가 경멸조로 대답했다. 

라주미힌이 몸을 움직였다.

"그리고 만약 그렇다면, 세상적인 어려움과 고난이 있을 경우나 인류에 대한 어떤 봉사를 위해, 장애물을 넘어서는 데 나설 수 있나요?... ​​예를 들어, 강도질과 살인을 하는 것?" 그리고 그는 다시 왼쪽 눈으로 윙크를 하고, 예전처럼 소리 없이 웃었다. "만약 내가 말했다면, 나는 당신에게 말하지 않았을 거예요." 라스콜니코프가 도전적이고 거만한 경멸조로 대답했다. "아니요, 저는 당신의 기사 때문에만 관심이 있었어요, 문학적 관점에서..."

"푸! 얼마나 노골적이고 무례한가!" 라스콜니코프는 혐오감을 느끼며 생각했다. "제가 지적하고 싶은 것은," 그는 건조하게 대답했다. "저는 제 자신을 마호메트나 나폴레옹이라고 생각하지 않고, 그런 종류의 인물이라고 생각하지도 않습니다. 그리고 그들 중 하나가 아니기 때문에 제가 어떻게 행동해야 할지 말씀드릴 수 없습니다."

"아, 러시아에서는 우리 모두가 자신을 나폴레옹이라고 생각하지 않나요?" 포르피리 페트로비치가 놀라울 정도로 친숙하게 말했다.

그의 목소리의 어조에서 뭔가 이상한 것이 드러났다. "아마도 지난주에 알료나 이바노브나를 위해 한 미래의 나폴레옹 중 한 명이었을 겁니다." 자메토프가 구석에서 갑자기 말했다. 라스콜니코프는 말하지 않았지만, 포르피리를 단호하고 집중적으로 바라보았다. 라주미힌은 우울하게 눈살을 찌푸리고 있었다. 그는 그 전에 무언가를 알아차린 듯했다.

그는 화가 나서 주변을 둘러보았다. 잠시 우울한 침묵이 흘렀다. 라스콜니코프는 돌아서서 가려고 했다. "이미 가시나요?" 포르피리가 친절하게 말하며 지나치게 정중하게 손을 내밀었다. "당신을 알게 되어 정말, 정말 기쁩니다. 당신의 요청에 대해서는, 불안해하지 말고, 내가 말한 대로 써서 보내거나, 아니면 더 나은 방법으로, 하루나 이틀 후에 직접 내게 오세요... 내일이요. 저는 확실히 열한 시에 거기에 있을 겁니다. 우리가 모든 것을 준비하겠습니다. 이야기를 나누겠습니다. 당신이 거기에 있는 마지막 사람 중 하나이기 때문에, 아마도 우리에게 뭔가를 말할 수 있을 것입니다." 그는 가장 상냥한 표정으로 덧붙였습니다.

"당신은 나를 정식으로 정식으로 반대 심문하고 싶어합니까?" 라스콜니코프가 날카롭게 물었습니다. "아, 왜요? 지금은 그럴 필요가 없습니다. 당신은 나를 오해하고 있습니다. 저는 기회를 놓치지 않습니다. 그리고... 저는 약속을 한 모든 사람과 이야기를 나누었습니다.... 저는 그들 중 일부에게서 증거를 얻었고, 당신은 마지막입니다.... 네, 그런데요." 그는 갑자기 기뻐하는 듯 외쳤습니다. "저는 그저 기억할 뿐입니다. 제가 무슨 생각을 하고 있었을까요?" 그는 라주미힌에게 돌아섰다. "니콜라이에 대해 잔소리를 많이 했잖아... 물론, 알아, 잘 알아." 그는 라스콜니코프에게 돌아섰다. "그 녀석이 무고하다는 건 알지만, 어떡하지?

우리는 드미트리도 괴롭혀야 했어... 요점은, 이게 전부야. 네가 계단을 올라갔을 때는 일곱 시가 넘었지?" "그래." 라스콜니코프가 대답했다. 말할 필요도 없는 불쾌한 감정이 느껴졌다. "그러고 일곱 시에서 여덟 시 사이에 위층으로 올라갔을 때, 2층에 열린 아파트를 보지 않았어? 기억나? 두 명의 노동자, 아니면 적어도 한 명은 있었지? 그들이 거기서 그림을 그리고 있었어. 눈치채지 못했어? 그들에게는 정말, 정말 중요한 일이야."

"화가들이야? 아니, 못 봤어요." 라스콜니코프가 마치 기억을 더듬듯 천천히 대답했고, 동시에 그는 모든 신경을 짜내고, 가능한 한 빨리 함정이 어디에 있는지 추측하고 아무것도 간과하지 않으려고 불안에 거의 기절할 뻔했다.

"아니, 못 봤어요. 그리고 그런 열린 아파트도 본 적이 없는 것 같아요... 하지만 4층에서요" (그는 이제 함정을 마스터했고 승리감에 젖어 있었다) "이제 알료나 이바노브나 맞은편 아파트에서 누군가 이사를 가는 걸 기억해요... 기억나요... 선명하게 기억해요. 짐꾼들이 소파를 나르면서 나를 벽에 밀어붙였어요. 하지만 화가들은... 아니, 화가가 있었는지 기억이 나지 않고, 어디에도 열린 아파트가 있었던 것 같지 않아요. 아니, 없었어요."

"무슨 말이에요?" 라주미힌이 갑자기 소리쳤다. 마치 숙고하고 깨달은 듯. "왜요, 살인 당일에 화가들이 일하고 있었고, 그는 3일 전에 거기에 있었어요? 무슨 말을 하는 거예요?" "푸! 제가 잘못 이해했어요!" 포르피리는 이마를 때렸다. "이봐요, 알아! 이 일로 머리가 아프네요!" 그는 라스콜니코프에게 다소 사과하듯 말했다.

"아파트에서 일곱 시에서 여덟 시 사이에 그들을 본 사람이 있는지 알아내는 건 정말 좋은 일이 될 텐데, 당신이 뭔가 말해줄 수 있을 것 같았어요... 제가 잘못 이해했어요." "그럼 좀 더 조심해야겠어요." 라주미힌이 엄숙하게 말했다. 마지막 말이 그 통로에서 나왔다. 포르피리 페트로비치가 지나치게 정중하게 그들을 문까지 배웅했다. 그들은 우울하고 침울한 표정으로 거리로 나갔고, 몇 걸음 동안은 아무 말도 하지 않았다. 라스콜니코프는 심호흡을 했다.

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4904 p

“Well, you see... I really don’t know how to express it properly.... It’s a playful, psychological idea.... When you were writing your article, surely you couldn’t have helped, he-he! fancying yourself... just a little, an ‘extraordinary’ man, uttering a new word in your sense.... That’s so, isn’t it?” “Quite possibly,” Raskolnikov answered contemptuously. Razumihin made a movement.

“And, if so, could you bring yourself in case of worldly difficulties and hardship or for some service to humanity—to overstep obstacles?... For instance, to rob and murder?” And again he winked with his left eye, and laughed noiselessly just as before. “If I did I certainly should not tell you,” Raskolnikov answered with defiant and haughty contempt. “No, I was only interested on account of your article, from a literary point of view...”

“Foo! how obvious and insolent that is!” Raskolnikov thought with repulsion. “Allow me to observe,” he answered dryly, “that I don’t consider myself a Mahomet or a Napoleon, nor any personage of that kind, and not being one of them I cannot tell you how I should act.”

“Oh, come, don’t we all think ourselves Napoleons now in Russia?” Porfiry Petrovitch said with alarming familiarity.

Something peculiar betrayed itself in the very intonation of his voice. “Perhaps it was one of these future Napoleons who did for Alyona Ivanovna last week?” Zametov blurted out from the corner. Raskolnikov did not speak, but looked firmly and intently at Porfiry. Razumihin was scowling gloomily. He seemed before this to be noticing something.

He looked angrily around. There was a minute of gloomy silence. Raskolnikov turned to go. “Are you going already?” Porfiry said amiably, holding out his hand with excessive politeness. “Very, very glad of your acquaintance. As for your request, have no uneasiness, write just as I told you, or, better still, come to me there yourself in a day or two... to-morrow, indeed. I shall be there at eleven o’clock for certain. We’ll arrange it all; we’ll have a talk. As one of the last to be there, you might perhaps be able to tell us something,” he added with a most good-natured expression‎.

“You want to cross-examine me officially in due form?” Raskolnikov asked sharply. “Oh, why? That’s not necessary for the present. You misunderstand me. I lose no opportunity, you see, and... I’ve talked with all who had pledges.... I obtained evidence from some of them, and you are the last.... Yes, by the way,” he cried, seemingly suddenly delighted, “I just remember, what was I thinking of?” he turned to Razumihin, “you were talking my ears off about that Nikolay... of course, I know, I know very well,” he turned to Raskolnikov, “that the fellow is innocent, but what is one to do?

We had to trouble Dmitri too.... This is the point, this is all: when you went up the stairs it was past seven, wasn’t it?” “Yes,” answered Raskolnikov, with an unpleasant sensation at the very moment he spoke that he need not have said it. “Then when you went upstairs between seven and eight, didn’t you see in a flat that stood open on a second storey, do you remember? two workmen or at least one of them? They were painting there, didn’t you notice them? It’s very, very important for them.”

“Painters? No, I didn’t see them,” Raskolnikov answered slowly, as though ransacking his memory, while at the same instant he was racking every nerve, almost swooning with anxiety to conjecture as quickly as possible where the trap lay and not to overlook anything.

“No, I didn’t see them, and I don’t think I noticed a flat like that open.... But on the fourth storey” (he had mastered the trap now and was triumphant) “I remember now that someone was moving out of the flat opposite Alyona Ivanovna’s.... I remember... I remember it clearly. Some porters were carrying out a sofa and they squeezed me against the wall. But painters... no, I don’t remember that there were any painters, and I don’t think that there was a flat open anywhere, no, there wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Razumihin shouted suddenly, as though he had reflected and realised. “Why, it was on the day of the murder the painters were at work, and he was there three days before? What are you asking?” “Foo! I have muddled it!” Porfiry slapped himself on the forehead. “Deuce take it! This business is turning my brain!” he addressed Raskolnikov somewhat apologetically.

“It would be such a great thing for us to find out whether anyone had seen them between seven and eight at the flat, so I fancied you could perhaps have told us something.... I quite muddled it.” “Then you should be more careful,” Razumihin observed grimly. The last words were uttered in the passage. Porfiry Petrovitch saw them to the door with excessive politeness. They went out into the street gloomy and sullen, and for some steps they did not say a word. Raskolnikov drew a deep breath.