PART 6 // chapter 8-2

[모나리자]

출장이라면 좀 이르시네요.[*] 제가 여기 있을 가능성은 있지만... 하지만 제가 할 수 있는 일은 하겠습니다. 솔직히 말해서, 저는... 뭐야, 뭐야? 실례합니다....” [*] 도스토옙스키는 지금이 해가 진 후라는 사실과 라스콜니코프가 오후 2시에 마지막으로 경찰서를 방문했을 때 너무 늦게 왔다고 꾸중을 들었다는 사실을 잊은 듯합니다.—번역가. “라스콜니코프.” “물론이죠, 라스콜니코프. 제가 잊었다고 생각하지 못하셨나요? 제가 그럴 거라고 생각하지 마세요... 로디온 로—로—로디오노비치, 그거 맞죠?”

“로디온 로마노비치.” “그렇죠, 그렇죠, 로디온 로마노비치! 방금 시작했을 뿐이에요. 당신에 대해 여러 가지 질문을 했어요. 그 이후로 진심으로 슬퍼했습니다... 제가 그렇게 행동한 이후로... 나중에 당신이 문학가이고... 학식이 풍부하다는 것을 알게 되었습니다... 말하자면 첫걸음이었습니다... 우리에게 자비를 베푸소서! 어떤 문학가나 과학가가 행동의 독창성으로 시작하지 않겠습니까! 아내와 저는 문학에 대한 가장 큰 존경심을 가지고 있습니다. 아내에게는 문학이 진정한 열정입니다! 문학과 예술! 남자가 신사라면 나머지는 모두 재능, 학식, 상식, 천재성으로 얻을 수 있습니다.

모자에 대해 말씀드리자면, 글쎄요, 모자가 뭐 중요하겠어요? 모자는 빵만큼이나 쉽게 살 수 있지만 모자 아래에 무엇이 있는지, 모자가 무엇을 가리는지 살 수 없어요! 사과하러 가려고 했는데, 혹시 당신이... 하지만 물어보는 것을 잊었어요. 정말 원하는 게 있나요? 당신 가족이 왔다고 들었어요?" "네, 제 어머니와 누이입니다."

"나는 당신의 자매를 만나는 영광과 행복을 누렸습니다. 그녀는 교양 있고 매력적인 사람입니다. 당신과 너무 흥분해서 미안했습니다.

바로 그것입니다! 하지만 당신의 기절을 의심스럽게 바라보는 것에 대해 말씀드리자면, 그 일은 훌륭하게 해결되었습니다! 편견과 광신주의! 당신의 분노를 이해합니다. 가족이 도착해서 숙소를 바꾸는 건가요?" "아니요, 저는 그냥 들여다봤을 뿐입니다... 물어보려고 왔습니다... 저는 자메토프가 여기 있을 거라고 생각했습니다." "아, 맞아요! 물론, 당신은 친구를 사귀었다고 들었습니다. 글쎄요, 자메토프는 여기 없습니다.

네, 자메토프를 잃었습니다. 그는 어제부터 여기 없었습니다... 그는 떠날 때 모든 사람과 가장 무례한 방식으로 다투었습니다. 그는 머리가 좋은 젊은이일 뿐입니다. 그에게서 무언가를 기대할 수도 있었지만, 거기에는 우리의 뛰어난 젊은이들이 있습니다. 그는 검사를 받으러 가고 싶어했지만, 그저 떠벌리고 자랑할 뿐이고 그 이상은 안 될 거야. 물론 당신이나 라주미힌 씨, 당신의 친구는 전혀 다른 문제야.

당신의 경력은 지적인 것이고, 실패에 굴하지 않을 거야. 당신에게는, 누군가가 말하겠지만, 인생의 모든 매력은 니힐 에스트(nihil est)—당신은 금욕주의자, 승려, 은둔자야!... 책, 귀 뒤에 펜, 학문적 연구—그게 당신의 정신이 날아오르는 곳이야! 나도 똑같아... 리빙스턴의 여행기를 읽어봤어?" "아니." "아, 읽어봤어. 요즘은 니힐리스트가 정말 많아, 사실 놀랄 일이 아니야. 요즘은 어떤 시대지? 물어볼게. 하지만 우리는 생각했어... 당신은 니힐리스트가 아니잖아?

솔직하게 대답해,

솔직히!” “아니, 아니..." “믿어, 나한테도 솔직하게 말할 수 있어! 공식적인 의무는 한 가지지만... 우정은 전혀 다른 것이라고 생각하니? 아니, 틀렸어! 우정이 아니라 인간으로서의 감정, 인간성과 전능하신 분에 대한 사랑의 감정이야. 나는 공무원일지 몰라도, 나는 항상 나 자신을 인간으로서, 시민으로서 느낄 수밖에 없어... 자메토프에 대해 물었지.

자메토프는 명성이 나쁜 집에서 샴페인 한 잔을 마시며 프랑스식으로 스캔들을 만들 거야... 그게 자메토프가 할 수 있는 전부야! 어쩌면 나는 헌신과 고상한 감정으로 불타고 있을 수도 있고, 게다가 계급과 결과, 직위도 있어! 나는 결혼했고 아이들도 있고, 인간으로서, 시민으로서의 의무를 다하고 있지만, 그는 누구일까? 물어볼 수 있을까?

저는 교육으로 고귀해진 사람으로서 당신에게 호소합니다... 그렇다면 이 조산사들도 엄청나게 많아졌군요." 라스콜니코프는 눈썹을 의아하게 치켜올렸다. 식사를 하고 있었던 일리야 페트로비치의 말은 그에게는 대부분 공허한 소리의 흐름이었다. 하지만 그 중 일부는 알아들을 수 있었다. 그는 어떻게 끝날지 모른 채 그를 의아하게 바라보았다. "저는 그 짧은 머리의 여자들을 말하는 거예요." 수다스러운 일리야 페트로비치가 말을 이었다. "조산사라는 게 제 이름이에요.

제 생각에는 아주 만족스러운 이름이에요, 하하! 그들은 아카데미에 가서 해부학을 공부해요. 제가 병이 들면 젊은 아가씨를 불러서 치료해 달라고 해야 하나요? 뭐라고 하세요? 하하!" 일리야 페트로비치는 자신의 재치에 만족하며 웃었다. "교육에 대한 지나친 열의지만, 일단 교육을 받으면 그만이에요. 왜 그걸 남용해야 하나요?

왜 그 악당 자메토프가 하는 것처럼 명예로운 사람들을 모욕하는 거지? 왜 나를 모욕하는 거지? 이 자살도 봐, 얼마나 흔한지 상상도 못할 거야! 사람들은 마지막 반페니를 쓰고 자살해, 소년 소녀 노인들이나. 오늘 아침에야 마을에 온 신사에 대한 이야기를 들었어.

닐 파블리치, 내가 말했지, 자살한 그 신사의 이름이 뭐였지?" "스비드리가일로프," 다른 방에서 누군가가 졸린 듯한 무기력함으로 대답했다. 라스콜니코프가 입을 열었다. "스비드리가일로프! 스비드리가일로프가 자살했어!" 그는 소리쳤다. "뭐, 스비드리가일로프를 알아?" "그래... 나는 그를 알고 있어.... 그는 여기 온 지 얼마 안 됐어." "그래, 맞아. 그는 아내를 잃었고, 무모한 습관을 가진 사람이었고, 갑자기 자살했고, 정말 충격적인 방식으로... 그는 노트에 몇 마디를 남겼습니다. 그는 자신의 능력을 온전히 발휘하여 죽고, 아무도 그의 죽음에 대해 책임을 져야 하지 않는다고.

그는 돈이 있었다고 합니다. 어떻게 그를 알게 되었습니까?" "저는... 알고 있었습니다... 제 누이가 그의 집에서 가정교사로 일했습니다." "바바바! 그럼 그에 대해 뭔가 말할 수 있을 겁니다. 의심하지 않으셨습니까?" "어제 봤어요... 그는... 와인을 마시고 있었어요. 저는 아무것도 몰랐어요." 라스콜니코프는 무언가가 자신에게 떨어져 숨이 막히는 것 같은 기분을 느꼈습니다. "당신은 다시 창백해졌어요. 여기는 너무 답답해요..."

왜 그 악당 자메토프가 하는 것처럼 명예로운 사람들을 모욕하는 건가요?

왜 저를 모욕했을까요? 이런 자살도 보세요. 얼마나 흔한 일인지 상상도 못하실 겁니다! 사람들은 마지막 반페니를 쓰고 자살합니다. 소년, 소녀, 노인 모두요. 오늘 아침에야 마을에 온 신사에 대한 이야기를 들었습니다. 닐 파블리치, 제가 묻겠습니다. 자살한 그 신사의 이름은 뭐였죠?" "스비드리가일로프," 다른 방에서 졸린 듯한 무기력함으로 누군가가 대답했습니다. 라스콜니코프가 깜짝 놀랐습니다.

"스비드리가일로프! 스비드리가일로프가 자살했어!" 그는 소리쳤다. "뭐, 스비드리가일로프를 알아?" "네... 알았어요... 오래 살지 않았거든요." "네, 맞아요. 아내를 잃었고, 무모한 습관을 가진 사람이었는데 갑자기 자살했어요. 정말 충격적인 방식으로요... 그는 노트에 몇 마디 남겼어요. 그는 정신을 차리고 죽었고, 아무도 그의 죽음에 대해 책임을 져야 하지 않는다고요. 돈이 있었다고 하더군요. 어떻게 알게 되셨어요?" "저는... 알고 있었어요... 제 누이가 그의 집에서 가정교사로 일했어요." "바-바-바! 그럼 그에 대해 뭔가 말할 수 있을 거예요. 전혀 의심하지 않았나요?" "어제 봤어요... 그는... 와인을 마시고 있었어요. 저는 아무것도 몰랐어요."

라스콜니코프는 무언가가 자신에게 떨어져 숨이 막히는 것 같은 기분을 느꼈다. "다시 창백해졌네요. 여기 너무 답답해..."

"그래, 가야겠어." 라스콜니코프가 중얼거렸다. "방해해서 미안해..." "아, 전혀, 원하는 만큼 자주 갈 수 있어. 널 보고 기쁘고, 그렇게 말할 수 있어서 기뻐." 일리야 페트로비치가 손을 내밀었다. "난 그저... 자메토프를 보고 싶었을 뿐이야." "알겠어, 알아. 널 보고 기쁘다." "난... 정말 기뻐... 안녕." 라스콜니코프가 미소를 지었다. 그는 나갔다. 그는 비틀거렸고, 어지러움에 휩싸여 무엇을 하고 있는지 몰랐다.

그는 계단을 내려가기 시작했고, 오른손을 벽에 대고 몸을 지탱했다. 그는 위층 경찰서로 가는 길에 짐꾼이 자신을 밀쳐내고, 아래층의 개가 날카롭게 짖고, 여자가 밀대를 던지고 소리를 지르는 것을 상상했다. 그는 아래층으로 내려가 마당으로 나갔다. 거기, 입구에서 멀지 않은 곳에 소냐가 창백하고 공포에 질려 서 있었습니다. 그녀는 그를 사납게 바라보았습니다. 그는 그녀 앞에 가만히 서 있었습니다.

그녀의 얼굴에는 가슴 아픈 고통과 절망의 표정이 있었습니다. 그녀는 손을 꽉 잡았습니다. 그의 입술은 추하고 의미 없는 미소를 띠었습니다. 그는 잠시 가만히 서서 싱긋 웃고 경찰서로 돌아갔습니다. 일리야 페트로비치는 앉아서 몇 장의 종이를 뒤지고 있었습니다. 그의 앞에는 계단을 밀고 지나간 그 농부가 서 있었습니다. "안녕! 다시 왔어! 뭔가 두고 왔어? 뭐가 문제야?" 하얀 입술과 응시하는 눈을 가진 라스콜니코프가 천천히 다가왔습니다.

그는 바로 테이블로 걸어가서 손을 테이블에 기대고 무언가를 말하려고 했지만 할 수 없었습니다. 불분명한 소리만 들렸습니다. "몸이 아프시군요, 의자! 여기, 앉으세요! 물 좀 주세요!"

라스콜니코프는 의자에 주저앉았지만, 그는 불쾌한 놀라움을 표하는 일리야 페트로비치의 얼굴에 시선을 고정했다. 둘은 잠시 서로를 바라보고 기다렸다. 물이 나왔다. "나야..." 라스콜니코프가 말을 시작했다.

"물을 마셔." 라스콜니코프는 손으로 물을 거부하고 부드럽고 깨지기 쉬운 어조로, 하지만 분명하게 말했다. "나야, 늙은 전당포 여자와 그녀의 여동생 리자베타를 도끼로 죽이고 강도질을 했어." 일리야 페트로비치가 입을 열었다. 사람들이 사방에서 달려왔다. 라스콜니코프는 자신의 말을 반복했다.

If it’s on business you are rather early.[*] It’s only a chance that I am here... however I’ll do what I can. I must admit, I... what is it, what is it? Excuse me....” [*] Dostoevsky appears to have forgotten that it is after      sunset, and that the last time Raskolnikov visited the      police office at two in the afternoon he was reproached for      coming too late.—TRANSLATOR. “Raskolnikov.” “Of course, Raskolnikov. You didn’t imagine I’d forgotten? Don’t think I am like that... Rodion Ro—Ro—Rodionovitch, that’s it, isn’t it?”

“Rodion Romanovitch.” “Yes, yes, of course, Rodion Romanovitch! I was just getting at it. I made many inquiries about you. I assure you I’ve been genuinely grieved since that... since I behaved like that... it was explained to me afterwards that you were a literary man... and a learned one too... and so to say the first steps... Mercy on us! What literary or scientific man does not begin by some originality of conduct! My wife and I have the greatest respect for literature, in my wife it’s a genuine passion! Literature and art! If only a man is a gentleman, all the rest can be gained by talents, learning, good sense, genius.

As for a hat—well, what does a hat matter? I can buy a hat as easily as I can a bun; but what’s under the hat, what the hat covers, I can’t buy that! I was even meaning to come and apologise to you, but thought maybe you’d... But I am forgetting to ask you, is there anything you want really? I hear your family have come?” “Yes, my mother and sister.”

“I’ve even had the honour and happiness of meeting your sister—a highly cultivated and charming person. I confess I was sorry I got so hot with you.

There it is! But as for my looking suspiciously at your fainting fit—that affair has been cleared up splendidly! Bigotry and fanaticism! I understand your indignation. Perhaps you are changing your lodging on account of your family’s arriving?” “No, I only looked in... I came to ask... I thought that I should find Zametov here.” “Oh, yes! Of course, you’ve made friends, I heard. Well, no, Zametov is not here.

Yes, we’ve lost Zametov. He’s not been here since yesterday... he quarrelled with everyone on leaving... in the rudest way. He is a feather-headed youngster, that’s all; one might have expected something from him, but there, you know what they are, our brilliant young men. He wanted to go in for some examination, but it’s only to talk and boast about it, it will go no further than that. Of course it’s a very different matter with you or Mr. Razumihin there, your friend.

Your career is an intellectual one and you won’t be deterred by failure. For you, one may say, all the attractions of life nihil est—you are an ascetic, a monk, a hermit!... A book, a pen behind your ear, a learned research—that’s where your spirit soars! I am the same way myself.... Have you read Livingstone’s Travels?” “No.” “Oh, I have. There are a great many Nihilists about nowadays, you know, and indeed it is not to be wondered at. What sort of days are they? I ask you. But we thought... you are not a Nihilist of course?

Answer me openly,

openly!” “N-no...” “Believe me, you can speak openly to me as you would to yourself! Official duty is one thing but... you are thinking I meant to say friendship is quite another? No, you’re wrong! It’s not friendship, but the feeling of a man and a citizen, the feeling of humanity and of love for the Almighty. I may be an official, but I am always bound to feel myself a man and a citizen.... You were asking about Zametov.

Zametov will make a scandal in the French style in a house of bad reputation, over a glass of champagne... that’s all your Zametov is good for! While I’m perhaps, so to speak, burning with devotion and lofty feelings, and besides I have rank, consequence, a post! I am married and have children, I fulfil the duties of a man and a citizen, but who is he, may I ask?

I appeal to you as a man ennobled by education... Then these midwives, too, have become extraordinarily numerous.” Raskolnikov raised his eyebrows inquiringly. The words of Ilya Petrovitch, who had obviously been dining, were for the most part a stream of empty sounds for him. But some of them he understood. He looked at him inquiringly, not knowing how it would end. “I mean those crop-headed wenches,” the talkative Ilya Petrovitch continued. “Midwives is my name for them.

I think it a very satisfactory one, ha-ha! They go to the Academy, study anatomy. If I fall ill, am I to send for a young lady to treat me? What do you say? Ha-ha!” Ilya Petrovitch laughed, quite pleased with his own wit. “It’s an immoderate zeal for education, but once you’re educated, that’s enough. Why abuse it?

Why insult honourable people, as that scoundrel Zametov does? Why did he insult me, I ask you? Look at these suicides, too, how common they are, you can’t fancy! People spend their last halfpenny and kill themselves, boys and girls and old people. Only this morning we heard about a gentleman who had just come to town.

Nil Pavlitch, I say, what was the name of that gentleman who shot himself?” “Svidrigaïlov,” someone answered from the other room with drowsy listlessness. Raskolnikov started. “Svidrigaïlov! Svidrigaïlov has shot himself!” he cried. “What, do you know Svidrigaïlov?” “Yes... I knew him.... He hadn’t been here long.” “Yes, that’s so. He had lost his wife, was a man of reckless habits and all of a sudden shot himself, and in such a shocking way.... He left in his notebook a few words: that he dies in full possession of his faculties and that no one is to blame for his death.

He had money, they say. How did you come to know him?” “I... was acquainted... my sister was governess in his family.” “Bah-bah-bah! Then no doubt you can tell us something about him. You had no suspicion?” “I saw him yesterday... he... was drinking wine; I knew nothing.” Raskolnikov felt as though something had fallen on him and was stifling him. “You’ve turned pale again. It’s so stuffy here...”

Why insult honourable people, as that scoundrel Zametov does?

Why did he insult me, I ask you? Look at these suicides, too, how common they are, you can’t fancy! People spend their last halfpenny and kill themselves, boys and girls and old people. Only this morning we heard about a gentleman who had just come to town. Nil Pavlitch, I say, what was the name of that gentleman who shot himself?” “Svidrigaïlov,” someone answered from the other room with drowsy listlessness. Raskolnikov started.

“Svidrigaïlov! Svidrigaïlov has shot himself!” he cried. “What, do you know Svidrigaïlov?” “Yes... I knew him.... He hadn’t been here long.” “Yes, that’s so. He had lost his wife, was a man of reckless habits and all of a sudden shot himself, and in such a shocking way.... He left in his notebook a few words: that he dies in full possession of his faculties and that no one is to blame for his death. He had money, they say. How did you come to know him?” “I... was acquainted... my sister was governess in his family.” “Bah-bah-bah! Then no doubt you can tell us something about him. You had no suspicion?” “I saw him yesterday... he... was drinking wine; I knew nothing.”

Raskolnikov felt as though something had fallen on him and was stifling him. “You’ve turned pale again. It’s so stuffy here...”

“Yes, I must go,” muttered Raskolnikov. “Excuse my troubling you....” “Oh, not at all, as often as you like. It’s a pleasure to see you and I am glad to say so.” Ilya Petrovitch held out his hand. “I only wanted... I came to see Zametov.” “I understand, I understand, and it’s a pleasure to see you.” “I... am very glad... good-bye,” Raskolnikov smiled. He went out; he reeled, he was overtaken with giddiness and did not know what he was doing.

He began going down the stairs, supporting himself with his right hand against the wall. He fancied that a porter pushed past him on his way upstairs to the police office, that a dog in the lower storey kept up a shrill barking and that a woman flung a rolling-pin at it and shouted. He went down and out into the yard. There, not far from the entrance, stood Sonia, pale and horror-stricken. She looked wildly at him. He stood still before her.

There was a look of poignant agony, of despair, in her face. She clasped her hands. His lips worked in an ugly, meaningless smile. He stood still a minute, grinned and went back to the police office. Ilya Petrovitch had sat down and was rummaging among some papers. Before him stood the same peasant who had pushed by on the stairs. “Hulloa! Back again! have you left something behind? What’s the matter?” Raskolnikov, with white lips and staring eyes, came slowly nearer.

He walked right to the table, leaned his hand on it, tried to say something, but could not; only incoherent sounds were audible. “You are feeling ill, a chair! Here, sit down! Some water!”

Raskolnikov dropped on to a chair, but he kept his eyes fixed on the face of Ilya Petrovitch, which expressed unpleasant surprise. Both looked at one another for a minute and waited. Water was brought. “It was I...” began Raskolnikov.

“Drink some water.” Raskolnikov refused the water with his hand, and softly and brokenly, but distinctly said: “It was I killed the old pawnbroker woman and her sister Lizaveta with an axe and robbed them.” Ilya Petrovitch opened his mouth. People ran up on all sides. Raskolnikov repeated his statement.

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