PART I // chapter 2-11

[모나리자]

"아!" 그녀는 흥분해서 소리쳤다. "그가 돌아왔다! 범죄자! 괴물!... 그리고 돈은 어디 있지? 주머니에 뭐가 들어 있지, 보여줘! 그리고 네 옷은 다 다르잖아! 옷은 어디 있지? 돈은 어디 있지! 말해!" 그리고 그녀는 그를 수색하기 시작했다. 마르멜라도프는 복종적이고 순종적으로 두 팔을 들어 수색을 도왔다. 돈 한 푼도 없었다.

"돈은 어디 있지?" 그녀가 소리쳤다. "우리에게 자비를, 그가 다 마셨을 수 있을까? 상자에 은화 12루블이 남았어!" 그리고 그녀는 격노해서 그의 머리카락을 잡고 방으로 끌고 들어갔다. 마르멜라도프는 무릎을 꿇고 온순하게 기어가며 그녀의 노력에 동참했다. "그리고 이게 나에게 위안이 돼! 이건 나를 다치게 하는 게 아니라 긍정적인 위로야, 호노우레드 선생님." 그는 머리카락을 흔들며 이리저리 흔들렸고 심지어 한 번은 이마로 땅을 쳤다.

바닥에서 잠자던 아이가 깨어나 울기 시작했습니다. 구석에 있던 모든 통제력을 잃은 소년이 떨고 비명을 지르며 자매에게 달려가며 격정적인 공포에 질려 거의 발작을 일으켰습니다. 가장 나이 많은 소녀는 나뭇잎처럼 떨고 있었습니다. "그는 마셨어요! 그는 다 마셨어요." 불쌍한 여인이 절망에 빠져 소리쳤습니다. "그리고 그의 옷은 없어졌어요! 그리고 그들은 배고프고, 배고프다!" 그리고 그녀는 손을 비비며 아이들을 가리켰습니다. "오, 저주받은 인생! 그리고 당신은 부끄럽지 않아요?" 그녀는 라스콜니코프에게 한꺼번에 달려들었습니다. "선술집에서! 그와 함께 술을 마셨어요? 당신도 그와 함께 술을 마셨어요! 꺼져!"

그 청년은 아무 말도 하지 않고 재빨리 떠났습니다. 안쪽 문이 활짝 열리고 호기심 어린 얼굴들이 문을 들여다보고 있었습니다. 파이프와 담배를 피우고 모자를 쓴 머리가 있는 거친 웃는 얼굴들이 문으로 들어왔습니다. 더 안쪽에서 드레싱 가운을 입은 사람들이 펄쩍펄쩍 뛰어올라, 보기 흉하게 빈약한 의상을 입고, 손에 카드를 든 사람들이 보였다.

그들은 특히 흥미를 느꼈는데, 마르멜라도프가 머리카락을 잡아 끌며, 그것이 자신에게 위안이 된다고 소리쳤기 때문이다. 그들은 심지어 방으로 들어오기 시작했다. 마침내 사악하고 날카로운 외침이 들렸다. 그것은 아말리아 리페베흐셀 자신이 그들 사이로 끼어들어서 그녀만의 방식으로 질서를 회복하려 하고, 불쌍한 여자에게 다음 날 방에서 나가라고 거친 욕설로 명령하여 백 번이나 겁을 주려고 한 것이었다.

그가 나갔을 때, 라스콜니코프는 주머니에 손을 넣고, 선술집에서 루블과 교환한 구리 동전을 낚아채서 눈에 띄지 않게 창문에 놓을 시간이 있었다. 그 후 계단에서 그는 마음을 바꾸어 다시 돌아갔을 것이다. "내가 한 일이 얼마나 어리석은가." 그는 스스로 생각했다. "그들은 소냐를 가지고 있고, 나는 그것을 원한다."

하지만 지금 되돌릴 수 없고, 어떤 경우든 그는 그것을 받지 않았을 것이라는 것을 생각하며, 그는 손을 흔들어 그것을 무시하고 숙소로 돌아갔다. "소니아도 포마툼을 원해." 그는 길을 걸으며 말했고, 그는 악의적으로 웃었다. "그런 영리함은 돈이 든다... 흠! 그리고 아마도 소니아 자신도 오늘은 파산할 거야. 큰 짐승을 사냥하는 건 항상 위험이 따르니까... 금을 파는 건... 그러면 내일은 내 돈만 빼고는 빵 한 조각도 없을 거야. 소니아 만세! 그들이 거기에서 파낸 광산이 얼마나 큰지!

그리고 그들은 그것을 최대한 활용하고 있어요! 그렇습니다, 그들은 그것을 최대한 활용하고 있어요! 그들은 그것에 대해 울었고 그것에 익숙해졌어요. 인간은 모든 것에 익숙해져요, 악당아!" 그는 생각에 잠겼습니다. "그리고 만약 내가 틀렸다면요." 그는 잠시 생각한 후 갑자기 외쳤습니다.

"만약 인간이 실제로 악당이 아니라면요, 인간 전체가 말이죠. 그러면 나머지는 모두 편견이고, 그저 인위적인 공포일 뿐이고, 장벽이 없고, 모든 것이 마땅한 대로 되는 거요."

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“Ah!” she cried out in a frenzy, “he has come back! The criminal! the monster!... And where is the money? What’s in your pocket, show me! And your clothes are all different! Where are your clothes? Where is the money! Speak!” And she fell to searching him. Marmeladov submissively and obediently held up both arms to facilitate the search. Not a farthing was there.

“Where is the money?” she cried—“Mercy on us, can he have drunk it all? There were twelve silver roubles left in the chest!” and in a fury she seized him by the hair and dragged him into the room. Marmeladov seconded her efforts by meekly crawling along on his knees. “And this is a consolation to me! This does not hurt me, but is a positive con-so-la-tion, ho-nou-red sir,” he called out, shaken to and fro by his hair and even once striking the ground with his forehead.

The child asleep on the floor woke up, and began to cry. The boy in the corner losing all control began trembling and screaming and rushed to his sister in violent terror, almost in a fit. The eldest girl was shaking like a leaf. “He’s drunk it! he’s drunk it all,” the poor woman screamed in despair—“and his clothes are gone! And they are hungry, hungry!”—and wringing her hands she pointed to the children. “Oh, accursed life! And you, are you not ashamed?”—she pounced all at once upon Raskolnikov—“from the tavern! Have you been drinking with him? You have been drinking with him, too! Go away!”

The young man was hastening away without uttering a word. The inner door was thrown wide open and inquisitive faces were peering in at it. Coarse laughing faces with pipes and cigarettes and heads wearing caps thrust themselves in at the doorway. Further in could be seen figures in dressing gowns flung open, in costumes of unseemly scantiness, some of them with cards in their hands.

They were particularly diverted, when Marmeladov, dragged about by his hair, shouted that it was a consolation to him. They even began to come into the room; at last a sinister shrill outcry was heard: this came from Amalia Lippevechsel herself pushing her way amongst them and trying to restore order after her own fashion and for the hundredth time to frighten the poor woman by ordering her with coarse abuse to clear out of the room next day.

As he went out, Raskolnikov had time to put his hand into his pocket, to snatch up the coppers he had received in exchange for his rouble in the tavern and to lay them unnoticed on the window. Afterwards on the stairs, he changed his mind and would have gone back. “What a stupid thing I’ve done,” he thought to himself, “they have Sonia and I want it myself.”

But reflecting that it would be impossible to take it back now and that in any case he would not have taken it, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand and went back to his lodging. “Sonia wants pomatum too,” he said as he walked along the street, and he laughed malignantly—“such smartness costs money.... Hm! And maybe Sonia herself will be bankrupt to-day, for there is always a risk, hunting big game... digging for gold... then they would all be without a crust to-morrow except for my money. Hurrah for Sonia! What a mine they’ve dug there!

And they’re making the most of it! Yes, they are making the most of it! They’ve wept over it and grown used to it. Man grows used to everything, the scoundrel!” He sank into thought. “And what if I am wrong,” he cried suddenly after a moment’s thought.

“What if man is not really a scoundrel, man in general, I mean, the whole race of mankind—then all the rest is prejudice, simply artificial terrors and there are no barriers and it’s all as it should be.”