에필로그 2-3

[모나리자]

어느 날 저녁, 라스콜니코프는 거의 나았을 때 잠이 들었습니다. 깨어나서 우연히 창문으로 가보니 병원 문에서 멀리 소냐가 보였습니다. 그녀는 누군가를 기다리고 있는 듯했습니다. 그 순간 무언가가 그의 심장을 찔렀습니다. 그는 몸을 떨며 창문에서 멀어졌습니다. 다음날도, 그다음 날도 소냐는 오지 않았습니다. 그는 불안하게 그녀를 기다리고 있다는 것을 알았습니다.

마침내 그는 풀려났습니다. 감옥에 도착했을 때 그는 죄수들로부터 소피아 세묘노브나가 집에서 병을 앓고 있고 외출할 수 없다는 것을 알게 되었습니다. 그는 매우 불안해져서 그녀를 찾아가게 했고, 곧 그녀의 병이 위험하지 않다는 것을 알게 되었습니다. 그가 그녀를 걱정한다는 말을 듣고, 소냐는 연필로 쓴 메모를 보내서 그녀가 훨씬 나아졌고, 가벼운 감기에 걸렸으며, 곧, 아주 곧 그의 직장에 와서 볼 것이라고 말했습니다. 그는 메모를 읽으면서 가슴이 쿵쾅거렸습니다.

다시 따뜻하고 밝은 날이었습니다. 이른 아침, 여섯 시에 그는 강둑에서 일하러 나갔다. 그곳에서 사람들은 설화석고를 두들기고, 헛간에는 그것을 굽는 가마가 있었다. 그들은 세 명만 파견되었다. 죄수 중 한 명은 경비원과 함께 요새로 가서 도구를 가져왔고, 다른 한 명은 나무를 준비하고 가마에 넣기 시작했다. 라스콜니코프는 헛간에서 강둑으로 나와 헛간 옆 통나무 더미에 앉아서 넓고 황량한 강을 바라보기 시작했다.

높은 둑에서 넓은 풍경이 그의 앞에 펼쳐졌고, 다른 둑에서 노래하는 소리가 희미하게 들렸다. 햇살에 쬐인 광활한 대초원에서 그는 유목민의 천막을 검은 점처럼 볼 수 있었다. 거기에는 자유가 있었고, 다른 사람들이 살고 있었고, 여기 사람들과는 전혀 달랐다. 거기에서는 시간

그 자체가 멈춘 듯했다. 마치 아브라함과 그의 양 떼의 시대가 지나지 않은 것처럼. 라스콜니코프는 응시하며 앉아 있었고, 그의 생각은 백일몽으로, 숙고로 옮겨갔다. 그는 아무것도 생각하지 않았지만, 막연한 불안이 그를 흥분시키고 괴롭혔다.

갑자기 그는 소냐를 옆에 두었다. 그녀는 소리 없이 일어나 그의 옆에 앉았다. 아직 꽤 이른 시간이었다. 아침의 추위가 여전히 매서웠다. 그녀는 그녀의 초라한 낡은 버누스와 녹색 숄을 걸쳤다. 그녀의 얼굴은 여전히 ​​병의 징후를 보였고, 더 얇고 창백했다. 그녀는 그에게 환영의 기쁜 미소를 지었지만, 평소처럼 소심하게 손을 내밀었다. 그녀는 항상 그에게 손을 내밀기를 소심하게 여겼고, 때로는 그가 손을 내밀지 않을까 두려워하는 듯 전혀 내밀지 않았다.  

그는 항상 그녀의 손을 마치 혐오감을 느낀 듯이 잡았고, 그녀를 만나고 싶어서 항상 짜증이 난 듯 보였으며, 그녀가 방문하는 동안 때때로 완강하게 침묵했다. 때때로 그녀는 그의 앞에서 떨며 깊은 슬픔에 잠겨 돌아갔다. 하지만 지금은 그들의 손이 떨어지지 않았다. 그는 그녀를 재빨리 흘깃 쳐다보고 아무 말 없이 눈을 땅에 떨어뜨렸다. 그들은 혼자였고, 아무도 그들을 보지 못했다. 경비원은 잠시 동안 돌아섰다. 어떻게 된 일인지 그는 몰랐다. 하지만 갑자기 무언가가 그를 붙잡아 그녀의 발치에 던지는 듯했다. 그는 울며 그녀의 무릎을 끌어안았다.

그녀는 처음에는 몹시 무서워서 창백해졌다. 그녀는 벌떡 일어나 떨면서 그를 바라보았다. 하지만 동시에 그녀는 이해했고 무한한 행복의 빛이 그녀의 눈에 들어왔다. 그녀는 그가 모든 것보다 그녀를 사랑한다는 것을 알고 있었고 의심의 여지가 없었다. 그리고 마침내 그 순간이 왔다... 그들은 말하고 싶었지만 말할 수 없었다. 그들의 눈에는 눈물이 고여 있었다. 그들은 둘 다 창백하고 여위었다. 하지만 그 병든 창백한 얼굴은 새로운 미래, 새로운 삶으로의 완전한 부활의 새벽으로 밝았습니다.

그들은 사랑으로 새로워졌습니다. 각자의 마음은 다른 사람의 마음을 위한 무한한 생명의 원천을 가지고 있었습니다. 그들은 기다리고 인내하기로 결심했습니다. 그들은 7년을 더 기다려야 했고, 그들 앞에는 얼마나 끔찍한 고통과 무한한 행복이 기다리고 있었을까요! 하지만 그는 다시 일어났고, 그는 그것을 알고 존재 전체에서 느꼈지만, 그녀는 그의 삶 속에서만 살았습니다. 같은 날 저녁, 막사가 잠겼을 때, 라스콜니코프는 판자 침대에 누워 그녀를 생각했습니다.

그는 그날 자신의 적이었던 모든 죄수들이 자신을 다르게 바라보는 것을 상상했습니다. 그는 심지어 그들과 이야기를 나누었고 그들은 친절하게 대답했습니다. 그는 지금 그것을 기억했고, 그럴 수밖에 없다고 생각했습니다. 이제 모든 것이 바뀌어야 하지 않을까요? 그는 그녀를 생각했습니다. 그는 얼마나 끊임없이 그녀를 괴롭히고 그녀의 마음을 다치게 했는지 기억했습니다. 그는 그녀의 창백하고 마른 얼굴을 기억했습니다. 하지만 이런 추억은 지금 그를 괴롭히지 않았다. 그는 이제 그녀의 모든 고통에 무한한 사랑으로 보답할 것이라는 것을 알았다.

그리고 과거의 모든 고통은 무엇이었는가! 모든 것, 심지어 그의 범죄, 그의 형량, 투옥조차도 그에게는 지금 첫 번째 감정의 돌진으로 보였고, 그는 전혀 관심이 없었다. 하지만 그는 그날 저녁에 오랫동안 아무것도 생각할 수 없었고, 의식적으로 아무것도 분석할 수 없었다. 그는 그저 느끼고 있었다. 삶은 이론의 자리에 들어섰고, 완전히 다른 것이 그의 마음속에서 스스로를 작동시킬 것이다. 그의 베개 아래에는 신약성서가 놓여 있었다. 그는 기계적으로 그것을 집어들었다. 그 책은 소냐의 것이었다. 그녀가 그에게 나사로의 부활을 읽어준 책이었다.


처음에는 그녀가 종교에 대해 걱정하고, 복음에 대해 이야기하고, 책으로 그를 괴롭힐까 봐 두려웠다. 하지만 놀랍게도 그녀는 한 번도 그 주제에 접근하지 않았고, 심지어 그에게 신약성서를 제공하지도 않았다. 그는 병이 들기 얼마 전에 직접 그녀에게 책을 달라고 부탁했고, 그녀는 아무 말 없이 그에게 책을 가져왔다. 지금까지 그는 책을 펴보지 않았다. 그는 지금도 책을 펴보지 않았지만, 한 가지 생각이 그의 머릿속을 스쳐 지나갔다. "그녀의 신념이 이제 내 것이 될 수 없을까? 그녀의 감정, 적어도 그녀의 열망은..." 그녀도 그날 몹시 흥분했고, 밤에는 다시 병이 들었다.

하지만 그녀는 너무 행복했고, 예상치 못하게 행복해서 자신의 행복이 두려웠다. 7년, 겨우 7년! 행복이 시작될 무렵, 어떤 순간에는 둘 다 그 7년을 마치 7일인 것처럼 바라보고 있었다. 그는 새로운 삶이 그에게 공짜로 주어지지 않을 것이라는 사실, 그가 비싼 값을 치러야 할 것이라는 사실, 그가 엄청난 노력과 엄청난 고통을 겪어야 할 것이라는 사실을 몰랐다.

하지만 그것이 새로운 이야기의 시작이다. 한 남자가 점차 새롭게 태어나는 이야기, 그의 점진적 재생, 한 세상에서 다른 세상으로의 이동, 새로운 미지의 삶으로의 입문에 대한 이야기. 새로운 이야기의 주제가 될 수도 있지만, 우리의 현재 이야기는 끝났습니다.

끝

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One evening, when he was almost well again, Raskolnikov fell asleep. On waking up he chanced to go to the window, and at once saw Sonia in the distance at the hospital gate. She seemed to be waiting for someone. Something stabbed him to the heart at that minute. He shuddered and moved away from the window. Next day Sonia did not come, nor the day after; he noticed that he was expecting her uneasily.

At last he was discharged. On reaching the prison he learnt from the convicts that Sofya Semyonovna was lying ill at home and was unable to go out. He was very uneasy and sent to inquire after her; he soon learnt that her illness was not dangerous. Hearing that he was anxious about her, Sonia sent him a pencilled note, telling him that she was much better, that she had a slight cold and that she would soon, very soon come and see him at his work. His heart throbbed painfully as he read it.

Again it was a warm bright day. Early in the morning, at six o’clock, he went off to work on the river bank, where they used to pound alabaster and where there was a kiln for baking it in a shed. There were only three of them sent. One of the convicts went with the guard to the fortress to fetch a tool; the other began getting the wood ready and laying it in the kiln. Raskolnikov came out of the shed on to the river bank, sat down on a heap of logs by the shed and began gazing at the wide deserted river.

From the high bank a broad landscape opened before him, the sound of singing floated faintly audible from the other bank. In the vast steppe, bathed in sunshine, he could just see, like black specks, the nomads’ tents. There there was freedom, there other men were living, utterly unlike those here; there time

itself seemed to stand still, as though the age of Abraham and his flocks had not passed. Raskolnikov sat gazing, his thoughts passed into day-dreams, into contemplation; he thought of nothing, but a vague restlessness excited and troubled him.

Suddenly he found Sonia beside him; she had come up noiselessly and sat down at his side. It was still quite early; the morning chill was still keen. She wore her poor old burnous and the green shawl; her face still showed signs of illness, it was thinner and paler. She gave him a joyful smile of welcome, but held out her hand with her usual timidity. She was always timid of holding out her hand to him and sometimes did not offer it at all, as though afraid he would repel it.

He always took her hand as though with repugnance, always seemed vexed to meet her and was sometimes obstinately silent throughout her visit. Sometimes she trembled before him and went away deeply grieved. But now their hands did not part. He stole a rapid glance at her and dropped his eyes on the ground without speaking. They were alone, no one had seen them. The guard had turned away for the time. How it happened he did not know. But all at once something seemed to seize him and fling him at her feet. He wept and threw his arms round her knees.

For the first instant she was terribly frightened and she turned pale. She jumped up and looked at him trembling. But at the same moment she understood, and a light of infinite happiness came into her eyes. She knew and had no doubt that he loved her beyond everything and that at last the moment had come.... They wanted to speak, but could not; tears stood in their eyes. They were both pale and thin; but those sick pale faces were bright with the dawn of a new future, of a full resurrection into a new life.

They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other. They resolved to wait and be patient. They had another seven years to wait, and what terrible suffering and what infinite happiness before them! But he had risen again and he knew it and felt it in all his being, while she—she only lived in his life. On the evening of the same day, when the barracks were locked, Raskolnikov lay on his plank bed and thought of her.

He had even fancied that day that all the convicts who had been his enemies looked at him differently; he had even entered into talk with them and they answered him in a friendly way. He remembered that now, and thought it was bound to be so. Wasn’t everything now bound to be changed? He thought of her. He remembered how continually he had tormented her and wounded her heart. He remembered her pale and thin little face. But these recollections scarcely troubled him now; he knew with what infinite love he would now repay all her sufferings.

And what were all, all the agonies of the past! Everything, even his crime, his sentence and imprisonment, seemed to him now in the first rush of feeling an external, strange fact with which he had no concern. But he could not think for long together of anything that evening, and he could not have analysed anything consciously; he was simply feeling. Life had stepped into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself out in his mind. Under his pillow lay the New Testament. He took it up mechanically. The book belonged to Sonia; it was the one from which she had read the raising

of Lazarus to him.

At first he was afraid that she would worry him about religion, would talk about the gospel and pester him with books. But to his great surprise she had not once approached the subject and had not even offered him the Testament. He had asked her for it himself not long before his illness and she brought him the book without a word. Till now he had not opened it. He did not open it now, but one thought passed through his mind: “Can her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations at least....” She too had been greatly agitated that day, and at night she was taken ill again.

But she was so happy—and so unexpectedly happy—that she was almost frightened of her happiness. Seven years, only seven years! At the beginning of their happiness at some moments they were both ready to look on those seven years as though they were seven days. He did not know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would have to pay dearly for it, that it would cost him great striving, great suffering.

But that is the beginning of a new story—the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world into another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended.

                                                                   The End