PART 6 // chapter 5-5

[모나리자]

"알려줘, 하고 싶으면! 움직이지 마! 가까이 오지 마! 내가 쏠게! 네가 아내를 독살한 거 알아. 너도 살인자잖아!" 그녀는 리볼버를 준비하고 있었다. "내가 마르파 페트로브나를 독살했다고 확신해?" "그랬어! 넌 스스로 암시했어. 나한테 독에 대해 말했지.... 네가 가져가려고 했다는 걸 알아... 준비해 놓았어.... 네가 한 짓이야... 네가 한 짓일 거야.... 악당!" "그게 사실이라 하더라도, 그건 너를 위한 일이었을 거야... 네가 원인이었을 거야." "거짓말이야! 난 널 항상, 항상 미워했어..." "오호, 아브도티아 로마노브나! 선전의 열기 속에서 네가 내게 얼마나 부드럽게 대했는지 잊은 모양이구나. 네 눈에서 봤어.

나이팅게일이 노래하던 그 달밤을 기억하니?" "거짓말이야." 두니아의 눈에 분노가 번쩍였다. "거짓말이고 명예 훼손이야!" "거짓말? 글쎄, 원한다면 거짓말이야. 내가 지어낸 거야. 여자들은 그런 일을 떠올리면 안 돼." 그는 미소를 지었다. "네가 총을 쏠 거라는 걸 알아, 예쁜 야생 동물아. 그럼, 쏴버려!" 두니아는 리볼버를 들어올리고, 창백한 얼굴로 그를 응시하며 거리를 재고 그의 첫 움직임을 기다렸다. 그녀의 아랫입술은 하얗고 떨렸고, 그녀의 커다랗고 검은 눈은 불꽃처럼 번쩍였다. 그는 그녀가 그렇게 잘생긴 것을 본 적이 없었다.

그녀가 리볼버를 들어올리는 순간 그녀의 눈에서 타오르는 불꽃이 그를 불태우는 듯했고 그의 가슴에는 괴로움의 울림이 있었다. 그는 한 걸음 앞으로 나아가자 총소리가 울렸다. 총알이 그의

머리카락을 스쳐 지나가 뒤의 벽으로 날아들었다. 그는 가만히 서서 부드럽게 웃었다. "말벌이 날 쏘았어. 내 머리를 똑바로 겨누었어. 이게 뭐야? 피?" 그는 손수건을 꺼내 오른쪽 관자놀이를 따라 가느다란 흐름으로 흘러내린 피를 닦았다. 총알이 피부를 스쳐 지나간 것 같았다. 두니아는 리볼버를 내리고 스비드리가일로프를 공포에 질린 것이 아니라 일종의 거친 놀라움으로 바라보았다. 그녀는 자신이 무엇을 하고 있는지, 무슨 일이 일어나고 있는지 이해하지 못하는 듯했다.

"음, 빗나갔어! 다시 쏘렴, 기다리겠어." 스비드리가일로프가 부드럽게 말하며 여전히 웃고 있었지만 우울해 보였다. "그렇게 계속하면, 다시 장전하기 전에 널 잡을 시간이 생길 거야." 두니아가 놀라서 재빨리 권총을 장전하고 다시 들어올렸다. "그만둬." 그녀는 절망에 빠져 소리쳤다. "다시 쏠게. 난... 널 죽일 거야." "음... 세 걸음만 가면 참을 수 없겠지. 하지만 그러지 않으면... 그럼." 그의 눈이 번쩍였고 그는 두 걸음 앞으로 나아갔다. 두니아가 다시 쏘았다. 빗나갔다. "제대로 장전하지 않았어. 괜찮아, 또 장전했어. 준비해, 기다리겠어." 그는 두 걸음 떨어진 곳에서 그녀를 마주보며 서서, 그녀를 거칠고 단호한 결의로, 열렬하고, 완고하고, 굳은 눈으로 기다리고 응시했다. 두니아는 그가 그녀를 놓아주기보다는 차라리 죽을 것이라는 것을 알았다.

"그리고... 이제, 물론 그녀는 그를 죽일 거야, 두 걸음 떨어진 곳에서!" 갑자기 그녀는 리볼버를 던졌다. "그녀가 떨어뜨렸어!" 스비드리가일로프가 놀라서 말했고, 그는 심호흡을 했다. 그의 심장에서 무게가 빠져나간 듯했다. 아마도

죽음에 대한 두려움뿐만 아니라; 사실 그는 그 순간에 그것을 거의 느끼지 못했을지도 모른다. 그것은 그가 스스로 정의할 수 없는 더 어둡고 더 쓰라린 다른 감정으로부터의 해방이었다. 그는 두니아에게 다가가 부드럽게 그녀의 허리에 팔을 두르었다. 그녀는 저항하지 않았지만, 나뭇잎처럼 떨면서 애원하는 눈으로 그를 바라보았다.

그는 무언가 말하려고 했지만, 그의 입술은 소리를 내지 못한 채 움직였다. "날 놓아줘." 두니아가 간청했다. 스비드리가일로프가 몸을 떨었다. 그녀의 목소리는 지금과는 완전히 달랐다. "그럼 당신은 나를 사랑하지 않는 거야?" 그는 부드럽게 물었다. 두니아는 고개를 저었다. "그리고... 그리고 당신은 사랑할 수 없어? 절대 안 돼?" 그는 절망에 빠져 속삭였다. "절대 안 돼!" 스비드리가일로프의 심장에서 끔찍하고 멍청한 몸부림이 잠시 이어졌다. 그는 형언할 수 없는 시선으로 그녀를 바라보았다. 갑자기 그는 팔을 빼고 재빨리 창문으로 돌아서서 창문을 마주보았다. 또 다른 순간이 지났다. "여기 열쇠가 있어." 그는 코트 왼쪽 주머니에서 열쇠를 꺼내서 뒤돌아보지도 않고 두니아를 보지도 않은 채 뒤에 있는 테이블에 놓았다.

"가져가! 서둘러!" 그는 완강하게 창밖을 바라보았다. 두니아는 열쇠를 받으려고 테이블로 다가갔다. "서둘러! 서둘러!" 스비드리가일로프가 되뇌었다. 돌아보지도 않고 움직이지도 않았다. 하지만 "서둘러"라는 말의 어조에는 끔찍한 의미가 있는 듯했다. 두니아는 그것을 이해하고 열쇠를 낚아채고 문으로 달려가 재빨리 자물쇠를 풀고 방에서 뛰쳐나갔다. 1분 후, 그녀는 정신을 차리고 X. 다리 방향으로 운하 제방으로 달려나갔다. 스비드리가일로프는 3분간 창문에 서 있었다. 마침내 그는 천천히 돌아서서 주변을 둘러보고 이마에 손을 대었다.

이상한 미소가 그의 얼굴을 뒤틀었다. 불쌍하고 슬프고 약한 미소, 절망의 미소. 이미 말라가고 있던 피가 그의 손을 더럽혔다. 그는 화가 나서 그것을 바라보다가 수건을 적셔 관자놀이를 씻었다. 두니아가 던져버린 리볼버가 문 근처에 있었고 갑자기 그의 눈을 사로잡았다. 그는 그것을 집어 들고 살펴보았다. 그것은 구식 구조의 작은 주머니용 3연장 리볼버였다. 여전히 두 개의 장전과 한 개의 캡슐이 남아 있었다. 다시 발사할 수 있었다. 그는 잠시 생각한 후 리볼버를 주머니에 넣고 모자를 쓰고 나갔다.

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“Inform, if you want to! Don’t stir! Don’t come nearer! I’ll shoot! You poisoned your wife, I know; you are a murderer yourself!” She held the revolver ready. “Are you so positive I poisoned Marfa Petrovna?” “You did! You hinted it yourself; you talked to me of poison.... I know you went to get it... you had it in readiness.... It was your doing.... It must have been your doing.... Scoundrel!” “Even if that were true, it would have been for your sake... you would have been the cause.” “You are lying! I hated you always, always....” “Oho, Avdotya Romanovna! You seem to have forgotten how you softened to me in the heat of propaganda. I saw it in your eyes.

Do you remember that moonlight night, when the nightingale was singing?” “That’s a lie,” there was a flash of fury in Dounia’s eyes, “that’s a lie and a libel!” “A lie? Well, if you like, it’s a lie. I made it up. Women ought not to be reminded of such things,” he smiled. “I know you will shoot, you pretty wild creature. Well, shoot away!” Dounia raised the revolver, and deadly pale, gazed at him, measuring the distance and awaiting the first movement on his part. Her lower lip was white and quivering and her big black eyes flashed like fire. He had never seen her so handsome.

The fire glowing in her eyes at the moment she raised the revolver seemed to kindle him and there was a pang of anguish in his heart. He took a step forward and a shot rang out. The bullet grazed his

hair and flew into the wall behind. He stood still and laughed softly. “The wasp has stung me. She aimed straight at my head. What’s this? Blood?” he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the blood, which flowed in a thin stream down his right temple. The bullet seemed to have just grazed the skin. Dounia lowered the revolver and looked at Svidrigaïlov not so much in terror as in a sort of wild amazement. She seemed not to understand what she was doing and what was going on.

“Well, you missed! Fire again, I’ll wait,” said Svidrigaïlov softly, still smiling, but gloomily. “If you go on like that, I shall have time to seize you before you cock again.” Dounia started, quickly cocked the pistol and again raised it. “Let me be,” she cried in despair. “I swear I’ll shoot again. I... I’ll kill you.” “Well... at three paces you can hardly help it. But if you don’t... then.” His eyes flashed and he took two steps forward. Dounia shot again: it missed fire. “You haven’t loaded it properly. Never mind, you have another charge there. Get it ready, I’ll wait.” He stood facing her, two paces away, waiting and gazing at her with wild determination, with feverishly passionate, stubborn, set eyes. Dounia saw that he would sooner die than let her go.

“And... now, of course she would kill him, at two paces!” Suddenly she flung away the revolver. “She’s dropped it!” said Svidrigaïlov with surprise, and he drew a deep breath. A weight seemed to have rolled from his heart—perhaps not only

the fear of death; indeed he may scarcely have felt it at that moment. It was the deliverance from another feeling, darker and more bitter, which he could not himself have defined. He went to Dounia and gently put his arm round her waist. She did not resist, but, trembling like a leaf, looked at him with suppliant eyes.

He tried to say something, but his lips moved without being able to utter a sound. “Let me go,” Dounia implored. Svidrigaïlov shuddered. Her voice now was quite different. “Then you don’t love me?” he asked softly. Dounia shook her head. “And... and you can’t? Never?” he whispered in despair. “Never!” There followed a moment of terrible, dumb struggle in the heart of Svidrigaïlov. He looked at her with an indescribable gaze. Suddenly he withdrew his arm, turned quickly to the window and stood facing it. Another moment passed. “Here’s the key.” He took it out of the left pocket of his coat and laid it on the table behind him, without turning or looking at Dounia.

“Take it! Make haste!” He looked stubbornly out of the window. Dounia went up to the table to take the key. “Make haste! Make haste!” repeated Svidrigaïlov, still without turning or moving. But there seemed a terrible significance in the tone of that “make haste.” Dounia understood it, snatched up the key, flew to the door, unlocked it quickly and rushed out of the room. A minute later, beside herself, she ran out on to the canal bank in the direction of X. Bridge. Svidrigaïlov remained three minutes standing at the window. At last he slowly turned, looked about him and passed his hand over his forehead.

A strange smile contorted his face, a pitiful, sad, weak smile, a smile of despair. The blood, which was already getting dry, smeared his hand. He looked angrily at it, then wetted a towel and washed his temple. The revolver which Dounia had flung away lay near the door and suddenly caught his eye. He picked it up and examined it. It was a little pocket three-barrel revolver of old-fashioned construction. There were still two charges and one capsule left in it. It could be fired again. He thought a little, put the revolver in his pocket, took his hat and went out.

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