PART 6 // chapter 1-1

[모나리자]

라스콜니코프에게는 이상한 시기가 시작되었습니다. 마치 안개가 그에게 내려와 벗어날 수 없는 쓸쓸한 고독 속에 갇힌 것 같았습니다. 그 시기를 오래 후에 회상하면서 그는 때때로 마음이 흐려졌고, 간헐적으로 최후의 재앙이 올 때까지 계속 흐려졌다고 믿었습니다. 그는 그 당시에 많은 것에 대해 착각했다고 확신했습니다. 예를 들어 특정 사건의 날짜에 대해 말입니다. 어쨌든 나중에 기억을 조각해 보려고 했을 때, 그는 다른 사람들이 그에게 한 말에서 자신에 대해 많은 것을 알게 되었습니다. 그는 사건을 뒤섞어 놓고 사건이 자신의 상상 속에만 존재하는 상황 때문이라고 설명했습니다.

때때로 그는 병적인 불안의 고통에 시달렸고, 때로는 공황 상태에 빠졌습니다. 하지만 그는 또한 이전의 공포에 대한 반응으로 그에게 찾아온 완전한 무관심의 순간, 시간, 아마도 하루 종일을 기억했고, 때때로 죽어가는 사람에게서 볼 수 있는 비정상적인 무감각과 비교될 수 ​​있었습니다. 그는 후반에 자신의 입장을 완전하고 명확하게 이해하지 못한 채 벗어나려고 애쓰는 듯했다. 즉각적으로 고려해야 할 필수적인 사실들이 그에게 특히 성가셨다. 그는 어떤 걱정거리에서 자유로워질 수 있어서 얼마나 기뻤을까. 그 걱정거리를 소홀히 하면 완전히 피할 수 없는 파멸로 위협받았을 것이다. 그는 특히 스비드리가일로프를 걱정했다. 그는 스비드리가일로프를 끊임없이 생각하고 있다고 할 수 있다.

스비드리가일로프가 카테리나 이바노브나가 죽을 때 소냐의 방에서 너무나 위협적이고 틀림없는 말을 한 이후로 그의 정신은 정상적으로 작동하지 않는 듯했다. 하지만 이 새로운 사실이 그에게 극심한 불안을 안겨주었지만, 라스콜니코프는 그것에 대한 설명을 서두르지 않았다. 때때로 그는 마을의 외딴 지역, 어떤 비참한 식당에서 혼자 앉아 생각에 잠겨서 자신이 어떻게 거기에 왔는지도 모른 채 갑자기 스비드리가일로프를 생각했다.

그는 갑자기, 분명하게, 그리고 당혹스러움과 함께 그 남자와 즉시 합의에 도달하고 그가 할 수 있는 조건을 제시해야 한다는 것을 깨달았습니다. 어느 날 도시 문 밖으로 걸어 나가면서 그는 그들이 그곳에서 만남을 정했고, 그가 스비드리가일로프를 기다리고 있다고 긍정적으로 생각했습니다. 또 다른 때 그는 새벽 전에 덤불 아래 바닥에 누워서 깨어났고 처음에는 그가 어떻게 거기에 왔는지 이해할 수 없었습니다. 하지만 카테리나 이바노브나가 죽은 후 이틀이나 사흘 동안 그는 소니아의 숙소에서 스비드리가일로프를 두세 번 만났고, 그는 잠시 아무 생각 없이 그곳에 갔습니다.

그들은 몇 마디를 주고받았고, 마치 잠시 동안 그 문제에 대해 말하지 않기로 암묵적으로 합의한 것처럼 중요한 주제에 대해서는 언급하지 않았습니다.

카테리나 이바노브나의 시신은 여전히 ​​관 속에 누워 있었고, 스비드리가일로프는 장례식을 준비하는 데 바빴습니다. 소니아 역시 매우 바빴습니다. 마지막 만남에서 스비드리가일로프는 라스콜니코프에게 카테리나 이바노브나의 아이들을 위해 매우 만족스러운 약속을 했다고 알렸습니다. 그는 특정한 인맥을 통해 세 고아를 즉시 매우 적합한 기관에 배치할 수 있는 특정 인물을 확보하는 데 성공했습니다. 그가 그들에게 정한 돈은 큰 도움이 되었는데, 가난한 고아보다 재산이 있는 고아를 배치하는 것이 훨씬 쉽기 때문입니다.

그는 소냐에 대해서도 뭔가 말했고, 하루나 이틀 후에 라스콜니코프를 만나러 직접 오겠다고 약속하면서 "그와 상의하고 싶습니다. 그들이 이야기해야 할 일이 있습니다..."라고 말했습니다. 이 대화는 계단의 통로에서 이루어졌습니다. 스비드리가일로프는 라스콜니코프를 뚫어지게 바라보았고, 잠시 멈춘 후 갑자기 목소리를 낮추고 물었습니다. "하지만 어때요, 로디온 로마노비치. 당신답지 않은 것 같군요? 당신은 보고 듣고 있지만 이해하지 못하는 것 같아요. 힘내세요! 이야기해 봅시다. 미안합니다. 제 일과 다른 사람들의 일이 너무 많아서요.

아, 로디온 로마노비치," 그는 갑자기 덧붙여 말했습니다. "모든 사람에게 필요한 건 신선한 공기, 신선한 공기... 그 무엇보다요!" 그는 한쪽으로 가서 계단을 올라오는 신부와 서빙하는 사람을 위해 길을 비웠습니다. 그들은 레퀴엠 예배를 위해 왔습니다. 스비드리가일로프의 명령에 따라 하루에 두 번씩 정각에 노래를 불렀습니다. 스비드리가일로프는 자기 길로 갔습니다. 라스콜니코프는 잠시 멈춰 서서 생각에 잠긴 후 신부를 따라 소니아의 방으로 들어갔습니다. 그는 문 앞에 섰습니다. 그들은 조용히, 천천히, 애절하게 예배를 부르기 시작했습니다.

어린 시절부터 죽음과 죽음의 존재에 대한 생각은 억압적이고 신비롭게 무서운 무언가를 가지고 있었습니다. 그리고 그는 레퀴엠 예배를 들은 지 오래되었습니다. 그리고 여기에는 너무 무섭고 불안한 다른 무언가가 있었습니다. 그는 아이들을 바라보았습니다. 그들은 모두 관 옆에 무릎을 꿇고 있었습니다. 폴렌카는 울고 있었습니다. 그 뒤에서 소냐는 부드럽게, 마치 소심하게 울면서 기도하고 있었습니다. "지난 이틀 동안 그녀는 나에게 한마디도 하지 않았고, 나를 쳐다보지도 않았어." 라스콜니코프는 갑자기 생각했습니다. 방 안에는 햇살이 밝았고, 향이 구름처럼 피어올랐습니다. 사제는 "휴식을 취하세요, 오 로르

그가 축복하고 떠날 때, 신부는 이상하게 주변을 둘러보았다. 예배가 끝난 후, 라스콜니코프는 소냐에게 다가갔다. 그녀는 그의 두 손을 잡고 머리를 그의 어깨에 얹었다. 이 가벼운 우호적인 몸짓은 라스콜니코프를 당황하게 했다. 그녀의 손에 혐오감이나 혐오감, 떨림이 전혀 없는 것이 그에게 이상하게 보였다. 그것은 자기 부정의 가장 먼 한계였다. 적어도 그는 그렇게 해석했다. 소냐는 아무 말도 하지 않았다. 라스콜니코프는 그녀의 손을 잡고 나갔다. 그는 매우 비참한 기분이었다.

어느 정도 고립으로 벗어날 수 있었다면, 평생 그곳에서 보내야 하더라도 운이 좋았다고 생각했을 것이다. 하지만 최근에는 거의 항상 혼자였지만, 결코 혼자라고 느낄 수 없었다. 가끔 그는 마을을 빠져나와 큰길로 걸어갔고, 작은 숲에 도착했을 때도 있었지만, 그곳이 외로울수록 그는 가까이에 불안한 존재가 있다는 것을 더 잘 알고 있는 듯했다. 그것은 그를 두렵게 하지 않았지만, 그를 크게 짜증나게 했기 때문에 그는 서둘러 마을로 돌아가 군중과 어울리고, 식당과 선술집에 들어가고, 번잡한 도로를 걸었습니다. 그곳에서 그는 더 쉽고 더욱 고립된 기분을 느꼈습니다.

어느 날 해가 지면서 그는 선술집에서 노래를 들으며 한 시간 동안 앉아 있었고, 그는 그것이 긍정적으로 즐거웠다는 것을 기억해냈습니다. 하지만 마침내 그는 마치 그의 양심이 그를 때리는 것처럼 갑자기 같은 불안감을 다시 느꼈습니다. "여기 앉아 노래하는 것을 듣는데, 내가 해야 할 일이 이거냐?" 그는 생각했습니다. 하지만 그는 그것이 그의 불안감의 유일한 원인이 아니라는 것을 즉시 느꼈습니다. 즉각적인 결정이 필요한 것이 있었지만, 그가 명확하게 이해하거나 말로 표현할 수 없는 것이었습니다. 그것은 희망 없는 얽힘이었습니다.

"아니, 다시 싸우는 것이 낫겠어! 다시 포르피리가 낫겠어... 아니면 스비드리가일로브....

다시 도전하는 것이 낫겠어... 공격하는 것이 낫겠어. 그래, 그래!" 그는 생각했습니다. 그는 선술집에서 나와 거의 달리듯이 달려갔다. 두니아와 그의 어머니에 대한 생각이 갑자기 그를 거의 공황 상태로 만들었다. 그날 밤 그는 크레스토프스키 섬의 덤불 사이에서 아침 전에 깨어났고, 열로 온몸을 떨었다. 그는 걸어서 집으로 돌아왔고, 그가 도착했을 때는 이른 아침이었다.

PART VI

CHAPTER I

A strange period began for Raskolnikov: it was as though a fog had fallen upon him and wrapped him in a dreary solitude from which there was no escape. Recalling that period long after, he believed that his mind had been clouded at times, and that it had continued so, with intervals, till the final catastrophe. He was convinced that he had been mistaken about many things at that time, for instance as to the date of certain events. Anyway, when he tried later on to piece his recollections together, he learnt a great deal about himself from what other people told him. He had mixed up incidents and had explained events as due to circumstances which existed only in his imagination.

At times he was a prey to agonies of morbid uneasiness, amounting sometimes to panic. But he remembered, too, moments, hours, perhaps whole days, of complete apathy, which came upon him as a reaction from his previous terror and might be compared with the abnormal insensibility, sometimes seen in the dying. He seemed to be trying in that latter stage to escape from a full and clear understanding of his position. Certain essential facts which required immediate consideration were particularly irksome to him. How glad he would have been to be free from some cares, the neglect of which would have threatened him with complete, inevitable ruin. He was particularly worried about Svidrigaïlov, he might be said to be permanently thinking of Svidrigaïlov.

From the time of Svidrigaïlov’s too menacing and unmistakable words in Sonia’s room at the moment of Katerina Ivanovna’s death, the normal working of his mind seemed to break down. But although this new fact caused him extreme uneasiness, Raskolnikov was in no hurry for an explanation of it. At times, finding himself in a solitary and remote part of the town, in some wretched eating-house, sitting alone lost in thought, hardly knowing how he had come there, he suddenly thought of Svidrigaïlov.

He recognised suddenly, clearly, and with dismay that he ought at once to come to an understanding with that man and to make what terms he could. Walking outside the city gates one day, he positively fancied that they had fixed a meeting there, that he was waiting for Svidrigaïlov. Another time he woke up before daybreak lying on the ground under some bushes and could not at first understand how he had come there. But during the two or three days after Katerina Ivanovna’s death, he had two or three times met Svidrigaïlov at Sonia’s lodging, where he had gone aimlessly for a moment.

They exchanged a few words and made no reference to the vital subject, as though they were tacitly agreed not to speak of it for a time.

Katerina Ivanovna’s body was still lying in the coffin, Svidrigaïlov was busy making arrangements for the funeral. Sonia too was very busy. At their last meeting Svidrigaïlov informed Raskolnikov that he had made an arrangement, and a very satisfactory one, for Katerina Ivanovna’s children; that he had, through certain connections, succeeded in getting hold of certain personages by whose help the three orphans could be at once placed in very suitable institutions; that the money he had settled on them had been of great assistance, as it is much easier to place orphans with some property than destitute ones.

He said something too about Sonia and promised to come himself in a day or two to see Raskolnikov, mentioning that “he would like to consult with him, that there were things they must talk over....” This conversation took place in the passage on the stairs. Svidrigaïlov looked intently at Raskolnikov and suddenly, after a brief pause, dropping his voice, asked: “But how is it, Rodion Romanovitch; you don’t seem yourself? You look and you listen, but you don’t seem to understand. Cheer up! We’ll talk things over; I am only sorry, I’ve so much to do of my own business and other people’s.

Ah, Rodion Romanovitch,” he added suddenly, “what all men need is fresh air, fresh air... more than anything!” He moved to one side to make way for the priest and server, who were coming up the stairs. They had come for the requiem service. By Svidrigaïlov’s orders it was sung twice a day punctually. Svidrigaïlov went his way. Raskolnikov stood still a moment, thought, and followed the priest into Sonia’s room. He stood at the door. They began quietly, slowly and mournfully singing the service.

From his childhood the thought of death and the presence of death had something oppressive and mysteriously awful; and it was long since he had heard the requiem service. And there was something else here as well, too awful and disturbing. He looked at the children: they were all kneeling by the coffin; Polenka was weeping. Behind them Sonia prayed, softly and, as it were, timidly weeping. “These last two days she hasn’t said a word to me, she hasn’t glanced at me,” Raskolnikov thought suddenly. The sunlight was bright in the room; the incense rose in clouds; the priest read, “Give rest, oh Lord....”Raskolnikov stayed all through the service.

As he blessed them and took his leave, the priest looked round strangely. After the service, Raskolnikov went up to Sonia. She took both his hands and let her head sink on his shoulder. This slight friendly gesture bewildered Raskolnikov. It seemed strange to him that there was no trace of repugnance, no trace of disgust, no tremor in her hand. It was the furthest limit of self-abnegation, at least so he interpreted it. Sonia said nothing. Raskolnikov pressed her hand and went out. He felt very miserable.

If it had been possible to escape to some solitude, he would have thought himself lucky, even if he had to spend his whole life there. But although he had almost always been by himself of late, he had never been able to feel alone. Sometimes he walked out of the town on to the high road, once he had even reached a little wood, but the lonelier the place was, the more he seemed to be aware of an uneasy presence near him. It did not frighten him, but greatly annoyed him, so that he made haste to return to the town, to mingle with the crowd, to enter restaurants and taverns, to walk in busy thoroughfares. There he felt easier and even more solitary.

One day at dusk he sat for an hour listening to songs in a tavern and he remembered that he positively enjoyed it. But at last he had suddenly felt the same uneasiness again, as though his conscience smote him. “Here I sit listening to singing, is that what I ought to be doing?” he thought. Yet he felt at once that that was not the only cause of his uneasiness; there was something requiring immediate decision, but it was something he could not clearly understand or put into words. It was a hopeless tangle.

“No, better the struggle again! Better Porfiry again... or Svidrigaïlov.... Better

some challenge again... some attack. Yes, yes!” he thought. He went out of the tavern and rushed away almost at a run. The thought of Dounia and his mother suddenly reduced him almost to a panic. That night he woke up before morning among some bushes in Krestovsky Island, trembling all over with fever; he walked home, and it was early morning when he arrived.

8042