PART 6 // chapter 8-1

[모나리자]

그가 소니아의 방으로 들어갔을 때, 이미 어두워지고 있었다. 소니아는 하루 종일 끔찍한 불안 속에 그를 기다리고 있었다. 두니아는 그녀와 함께 기다리고 있었다. 그녀는 그날 아침 그녀에게 와서 소니아가 알고 있는 스비드리가일로프의 말을 기억했다. 우리는 두 소녀의 대화와 눈물, 그리고 그들이 얼마나 친해졌는지에 대해서는 설명하지 않을 것이다. 두니아는 그 인터뷰에서 적어도 한 가지 위안을 얻었다. 그녀의 오빠가 혼자가 아닐 것이라는 것이다. 그는 고백을 하기 위해 먼저 그녀, 소니아에게 갔다. 그는 필요할 때 인간적인 교제를 위해 그녀에게 갔다. 그녀는 운명이 그를 어디로 보내든 그와 함께 갈 것이다.

두니아는 묻지 않았지만, 그렇게 될 것이라는 것을 알았다. 그녀는 거의 경건하게 소니아를 바라보았고, 처음에는 그녀를 거의 당황하게 했다. 소니아는 거의 눈물을 흘리기 직전이었다. 그녀는 반대로 자신이 두니아를 볼 자격이 없다고 느꼈다. 두니아가 라스콜니코프의 방에서 처음 만났을 때 매우 주의 깊고 정중하게 절을 했을 때의 은총 어린 모습은 그녀의 기억 속에 그녀의 인생에서 가장 아름다운 환상 중 하나로 남아 있었다. 두니아는 마침내 참을성을 잃고 소니아를 떠나 오빠의 방으로 가서 그곳에서 그를 기다렸다. 그녀는 오빠가 먼저 올 것이라고 계속 생각했다.

그녀가 떠난 후, 소니아는 오빠의 자살에 대한 공포에 시달리기 시작했고, 두니아 역시 그것을 두려워했다. 하지만 그들은 하루 종일 그럴 수 없다고 서로를 설득하려고 애썼고, 함께 있는 동안은 둘 다 덜 불안했다.

헤어지자마자 각자는 다른 생각을 하지 않았다. 소니아는 스비드리가일로프가 전날 라스콜니코프에게 시베리아나... 두 가지 대안이 있다고 그녀에게 말한 것을 기억했다. 게다가 그녀는 그의 허영심, 오만함, 믿음의 부족을 알고 있었다.

"그가 살아남을 수 있는 것은 비겁함과 죽음에 대한 두려움뿐일 수 있을까?" 그녀는 마침내 절망에 빠져 생각했다. 그러는 동안 해가 지고 있었다. 소냐는 낙담한 채로 서서 창밖을 열심히 바라보고 있었지만, 창밖으로는 옆집의 하얗게 칠하지 않은 빈 벽만 보였다. 마침내 그녀가 그의 죽음을 확신하기 시작했을 때—그는 방으로 걸어 들어왔다. 그녀는 기쁨의 외침을 했지만, 그의 얼굴을 주의 깊게 들여다보니 창백해졌다.

"그래요." 라스콜니코프가 미소를 지으며 말했다. "나는 당신의 십자가를 위해 왔어요, 소냐. 당신이 나에게 교차로로 가라고 했잖아요. 왜 지금 그렇게 된 거냐고요?" 소냐는 놀란 표정으로 그를 바라보았다. 그의 어조가 그녀에게 이상하게 들렸다. 차가운 떨림이 그녀를 덮쳤지만, 잠시 후 그녀는 그 어조와 말이 가면이라는 것을 알아챘다. 그는 마치 그녀의 눈을 마주치지 않으려는 듯 시선을 돌려 그녀에게 말했다. "보시다시피, 소냐, 나는 그렇게 하는 게 나을 거라고 결정했어. 한 가지 사실이 있어... 하지만 긴 이야기고, 논의할 필요도 없어. 하지만 내가 화가 나는 게 뭔지 알아? 그 멍청하고 야만스러운 얼굴들이 나를 똑바로 쳐다보고, 멍청한 질문으로 나를 괴롭히는 게 짜증나. 내가 대답해야 할 텐데. 그들은 나를 손가락질할 거야... 으악! 내가 포르피리에게 가지 않을 거라는 건 알잖아. 난 그놈이 싫거든.

나는 내 친구, 폭발물 중위에게 가고 싶다. 얼마나 그를 놀라게 할지, 얼마나 센세이션을 일으킬지! 하지만 나는 차분해야 한다. 요즘 너무 짜증이 나거든. 방금 누나에게 주먹을 흔들려고 했던 걸 알잖아. 누나가 마지막으로 나를 보려고 돌아섰거든. 정말 잔인한 상황이야! 아! 난 뭘 하고 있는 거지! 그럼, 십자가는 어디 있지?" 그는 자신이 무엇을 하고 있는지 거의 모르는 듯했다. 그는 가만히 있을 수도 없고, 어떤 것에도 주의를 집중할 수도 없었다. 그의 생각은 잇따라 질주하는 듯했고, 그는 횡설수설했고, 손은 살짝 떨렸다.

소냐는 아무 말 없이 서랍에서 두 개의 십자가를 꺼냈다. 하나는 사이프러스 나무로 만든 것이고 하나는 구리로 만든 것이었다. 그녀는 자신과 그에게 십자가 표시를 하고, 나무 십자가를 그의 목에 걸었다.

"그게 내가 십자가를 지는 상징이야." 그는 웃었다. "마치 지금까지 별로 고통받지 않은 것처럼! 나무 십자가, 그게 바로 농부의 십자가야. 구리색은 리자베타의 것입니다. 직접 입어보세요. 보여주세요! 그러니까 그녀는 그것을 입고 있었죠... 그 순간? 저는 이런 것도 두 가지 기억납니다. 은색과 작은 아이콘.

저는 그것들을 늙은 여자의 목에 다시 걸었습니다. 지금 당장은 적절할 겁니다. 지금 제가 입어야 할 것은 바로 그것입니다... 하지만 저는 헛소리를 하고 중요한 것을 잊고 있습니다. 저는 어떻게든 잊기 쉽습니다.... 저는 당신에게 경고하기 위해 왔습니다, 소냐. 당신이 알 수 있도록... 그게 전부입니다. 제가 온 이유는 전부입니다. 하지만 저는 더 말할 것이 있다고 생각했습니다. 당신은 제가 직접 가기를 원했습니다. 글쎄요, 이제 저는 감옥에 갈 것이고 당신은 당신의 소원을 이룰 것입니다. 글쎄요, 당신은 왜 울고 있습니까? 당신도? 그러지 마세요. 그만둬요! 오, 저는 그것이 얼마나 싫은지!" 하지만 그의 감정은 흔들렸습니다. 그는 그녀를 바라보면서 가슴이 아팠습니다.

"그녀도 왜 슬퍼하는 거지?" 그는 스스로 생각했습니다. "나는 그녀에게 무엇이지? 그녀는 왜 울고 있는 거지? 그녀가 어머니나 두니아처럼 나를 돌보는 이유는 뭐야? 그녀가 내 유모가 될 거야." "십자가를 그어, 적어도 한 번은 기도해." 소냐가 소심하고 끊어진 목소리로 간청했다. "물론이지, 원하는 만큼! 그리고 진심으로, 소냐, 진심으로..." 하지만 그는 완전히 다른 말을 하고 싶었다. 그는 여러 번 십자를 그었다. 소냐는 숄을 집어 머리 위로 덮었다. 마르멜라도프가 말했던 녹색 드랍 드 담 숄, "가족 숄"이었다.

라스콜니코프는 그것을 보면서 그것을 생각했지만, 묻지는 않았다. 그는 자신이 확실히 무언가를 잊고 있다는 것을 느끼기 시작했고

역겹게 흥분했다. 그는 그것이 무서웠다. 그는 소냐가 그와 함께 갈 것이라는 생각에 갑자기 충격을 받았다. "뭐 하는 거야? 어디 가는 거야? 여기 있어, 있어! 혼자 갈게." 그는 비겁하게 짜증내며 외쳤고, 거의 분개한 듯 문쪽으로 다가갔다. "행렬을 지어 가는 게 무슨 소용이야?" 그는 나가면서 중얼거렸다. 소니아는 방 한가운데에 서 있었다.

그는 그녀에게 작별 인사도 하지 않았다. 그녀를 잊었다. 가슴에 뭉클하고 반항적인 의심이 솟구쳤다. "이게 옳은 일인가, 옳은 일인가, 이 모든 게?" 그는 계단을 내려가면서 다시 생각했다. "그는 멈춰서서 모든 걸 철회하고... 가지 않을 수 없었을까?" 하지만 그는 여전히 갔다. 그는 갑자기 자신에게 질문을 해서는 안 된다는 것을 느꼈다. 거리로 들어서자 그는 소니아에게 작별 인사를 하지 않았다는 것, 그녀를 녹색 숄을 두른 채 방 한가운데에 남겨두고, 그녀에게 소리를 지른 후 감히 움직이지도 못했다는 것을 기억해냈고, 잠시 멈췄다.

동시에 또 다른 생각이 떠올랐다. 마치 그때 그를 때리려고 기다리고 있었던 것 같았다. "왜, 방금 무슨 목적으로 그녀에게 갔을까? 그녀에게 말했어. 용무가 있어서; 무슨 용무가 있어서? 나는 용무가 전혀 없었어! 그녀에게 간다고 말하려고; 하지만 필요가 어디에 있었을까? 내가 그녀를 사랑할까? 아니, 아니, 방금 그녀를 개처럼 쫓아냈어. 그녀의 십자가를 원했을까? 오, 얼마나 깊이 빠졌을까! 아니, 그녀의 눈물을 원했어, 그녀의 공포를 보고 싶었어, 그녀의 마음이 얼마나 아픈지 보고 싶었어! 붙잡을 무언가, 나를 늦출 무언가, 볼 만한 친절한 얼굴이 필요했어! 그리고 나는 나 자신을 믿고, 내가 무엇을 할지 꿈꾸는 것을 감히 했어! 나는 거지 같은 멸시받는 놈이야, 멸시받는 놈이야!"

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CHAPTER VIII

When he went into Sonia’s room, it was already getting dark. All day Sonia had been waiting for him in terrible anxiety. Dounia had been waiting with her. She had come to her that morning, remembering Svidrigaïlov’s words that Sonia knew. We will not describe the conversation and tears of the two girls, and how friendly they became. Dounia gained one comfort at least from that interview, that her brother would not be alone. He had gone to her, Sonia, first with his confession; he had gone to her for human fellowship when he needed it; she would go with him wherever fate might send him.

Dounia did not ask, but she knew it was so. She looked at Sonia almost with reverence and at first almost embarrassed her by it. Sonia was almost on the point of tears. She felt herself, on the contrary, hardly worthy to look at Dounia. Dounia’s gracious image when she had bowed to her so attentively and respectfully at their first meeting in Raskolnikov’s room had remained in her mind as one of the fairest visions of her life. Dounia at last became impatient and, leaving Sonia, went to her brother’s room to await him there; she kept thinking that he would come there first.

When she had gone, Sonia began to be tortured by the dread of his committing suicide, and Dounia too feared it. But they had spent the day trying to persuade each other that that could not be, and both were less anxious while they were together.

As soon as they parted, each thought of nothing else. Sonia remembered how Svidrigaïlov had said to her the day before that Raskolnikov had two alternatives—Siberia or... Besides she knew his vanity, his pride and his lack of faith.

“Is it possible that he has nothing but cowardice and fear of death to make him live?” she thought at last in despair. Meanwhile the sun was setting. Sonia was standing in dejection, looking intently out of the window, but from it she could see nothing but the unwhitewashed blank wall of the next house. At last when she began to feel sure of his death—he walked into the room. She gave a cry of joy, but looking carefully into his face she turned pale.

“Yes,” said Raskolnikov, smiling. “I have come for your cross, Sonia. It was you told me to go to the cross-roads; why is it you are frightened now it’s come to that?” Sonia gazed at him astonished. His tone seemed strange to her; a cold shiver ran over her, but in a moment she guessed that the tone and the words were a mask. He spoke to her looking away, as though to avoid meeting her eyes. “You see, Sonia, I’ve decided that it will be better so. There is one fact.... But it’s a long story and there’s no need to discuss it. But do you know what angers me? It annoys me that all those stupid brutish faces will be gaping at me directly, pestering me with their stupid questions, which I shall have to answer—they’ll point their fingers at me.... Tfoo! You know I am not going to Porfiry, I am sick of him.

I’d rather go to my friend, the Explosive Lieutenant; how I shall surprise him, what a sensation I shall make! But I must be cooler; I’ve become too irritable of late. You know I was nearly shaking my fist at my sister just now, because she turned to take a last look at me. It’s a brutal state to be in! Ah! what am I coming to! Well, where are the crosses?” He seemed hardly to know what he was doing. He could not stay still or concentrate his attention on anything; his ideas seemed to gallop after one another, he talked incoherently, his hands trembled slightly.

Without a word Sonia took out of the drawer two crosses, one of cypress wood and one of copper. She made the sign of the cross over herself and over him, and put the wooden cross on his neck.

“It’s the symbol of my taking up the cross,” he laughed. “As though I had not suffered much till now! The wooden cross, that is the peasant one; the copper one, that is Lizaveta’s—you will wear yourself, show me! So she had it on... at that moment? I remember two things like these too, a silver one and a little ikon.

I threw them back on the old woman’s neck. Those would be appropriate now, really, those are what I ought to put on now.... But I am talking nonsense and forgetting what matters; I’m somehow forgetful.... You see I have come to warn you, Sonia, so that you might know... that’s all—that’s all I came for. But I thought I had more to say. You wanted me to go yourself. Well, now I am going to prison and you’ll have your wish. Well, what are you crying for? You too? Don’t. Leave off! Oh, how I hate it all!” But his feeling was stirred; his heart ached, as he looked at her.

“Why is she grieving too?” he thought to himself. “What am I to her? Why does she weep? Why is she looking after me, like my mother or Dounia? She’ll be my nurse.” “Cross yourself, say at least one prayer,” Sonia begged in a timid broken voice. “Oh certainly, as much as you like! And sincerely, Sonia, sincerely....” But he wanted to say something quite different. He crossed himself several times. Sonia took up her shawl and put it over her head. It was the green drap de dames shawl of which Marmeladov had spoken, “the family shawl.”

Raskolnikov thought of that looking at it, but he did not ask. He began to feel himself that he was certainly forgetting things

and was disgustingly agitated. He was frightened at this. He was suddenly struck too by the thought that Sonia meant to go with him. “What are you doing? Where are you going? Stay here, stay! I’ll go alone,” he cried in cowardly vexation, and almost resentful, he moved towards the door. “What’s the use of going in procession?” he muttered going out. Sonia remained standing in the middle of the room.

He had not even said good-bye to her; he had forgotten her. A poignant and rebellious doubt surged in his heart. “Was it right, was it right, all this?” he thought again as he went down the stairs. “Couldn’t he stop and retract it all... and not go?” But still he went. He felt suddenly once for all that he mustn’t ask himself questions. As he turned into the street he remembered that he had not said good-bye to Sonia, that he had left her in the middle of the room in her green shawl, not daring to stir after he had shouted at her, and he stopped short for a moment.

At the same instant, another thought dawned upon him, as though it had been lying in wait to strike him then. “Why, with what object did I go to her just now? I told her—on business; on what business? I had no sort of business! To tell her I was going; but where was the need? Do I love her? No, no, I drove her away just now like a dog. Did I want her crosses? Oh, how low I’ve sunk! No, I wanted her tears, I wanted to see her terror, to see how her heart ached! I had to have something to cling to, something to delay me, some friendly face to see! And I dared to believe in myself, to dream of what I would do! I am a beggarly contemptible wretch, contemptible!”

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