PART I // chapter 5-3

[모나리자]

그리고 이제 그는 아버지와 함께 선술집을 지나 묘지로 가는 길을 걷는 꿈을 꾸었습니다. 그는 아버지의 손을 잡고 선술집을 공포에 질려 바라보고 있었습니다. 이상한 상황이 그의 주의를 끌었습니다. 어떤 종류의 축제가 벌어지고 있는 듯했고, 화려하게 차려입은 마을 사람들, 시골 여성들, 그들의 남편들, 그리고 온갖 종류의 잡동사니들이 모여 노래를 부르고 모두 다소 취해 있었습니다.

선술집 입구 근처에 수레가 서 있었지만, 이상한 수레였습니다. 그것은 보통 무거운 수레말이 끌고 와인이나 다른 무거운 물건이 담긴 통을 실은 그런 큰 수레 중 하나였습니다. 그는 항상 긴 갈기, 두꺼운 다리, 느리고 고른 걸음걸이를 가진 그 큰 수레말들이 짐을 싣고 가는 것보다 짐을 싣지 않고 가는 것이 더 쉬운 것처럼, 아무런 노력 없이 완벽한 산을 따라 나아가는 것을 보는 것을 좋아했습니다.

하지만 이상하게도, 그런 수레의 갱도에서 그는 가느다란 밤색 짐승을 보았습니다. 그는 종종 무거운 나무나 건초 짐을 지고 힘겹게 움직이는 농부의 잔소리꾼 중 하나였습니다. 특히 바퀴가 진흙 속에 빠지거나 틀에 박혔을 때 말입니다. 농부들은 그들을 너무 잔인하게 때렸고, 때로는 코와 눈까지 때렸습니다. 그는 너무 불쌍하고 불쌍해서 거의 울 뻔했고, 그의 어머니는 항상 그를 창문에서 데려갔습니다.

갑자기 큰 소리로 외치고, 노래하고, 발랄라이카를 연주하는 큰 소동이 일어났고, 선술집에서 크고 매우 취한 농부들이 어깨에 빨간색과 파란색 셔츠와 코트를 걸친 채로 나왔습니다. "들어와, 들어와!" 그들 중 한 명이 소리쳤습니다. 당근처럼 붉은 살찐 얼굴을 한 두꺼운 목의 젊은 농부였습니다. "모두 데려갈게, 들어와!"

하지만 군중 속에서는 즉시 폭소와 환호가 터져 나왔습니다.

"저런 짐승으로 우리 모두를 데려가!" "왜, 미콜카, 그런 잔소리꾼을 그런 수레에 태울 만큼 미쳤어?" "그리고 이 암말은 하루면 스무 살이야, 친구들!" "타라, 내가 다 데려갈게." 미콜카가 다시 소리치며 수레에 먼저 뛰어들어 고삐를 잡고 똑바로 앞에 섰다. "마우스가 마트비와 함께 사라졌어." 그는 수레에서 소리쳤다. "그리고 이 짐승, 친구들, 내 가슴을 아프게 만들고 있어. 죽일 수 있을 것 같아.

그녀는 머리를 뜯어먹고 있어. 타라, 내가 말해! 내가 그녀를 질주하게 만들 거야! 질주할 거야!" 그리고 그는 채찍을 집어들고 작은 암말을 채찍질할 준비를 했다. "타라! 어서!" 군중이 웃었다. "들었어, 질주할 거야!" "진짜 질주해! 그녀는 지난 10년 동안 질주해 본 적이 없어!" "그녀는 조깅할 거야!" "그녀가 싫지 않아, 친구들, 각자 채찍 하나씩 가져와, 준비!" "좋아! 그녀에게 줘!" 그들은 모두 미콜카의 수레에 올라타 웃고 농담을 했다.

여섯 남자가 올라탔고 더 많은 사람을 태울 자리가 남았다. 그들은 살찐, 붉은 뺨의 여자를 끌고 왔다. 그녀는 붉은 면으로 된 옷을 입고, 뾰족한 구슬 장식 머리 장식을 하고 두꺼운 가죽 신발을 신고 있었다. 그녀는 견과류를 깨고 웃고 있었다. 그들을 둘러싼 군중도 웃고 있었다.

그리고 실제로, 어떻게 웃지 않을 수 있었을까? 그 비참한 잔소리꾼이 그들을 가득 실은 수레를 질주로 끌고 갈 것이다!

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And now he dreamt that he was walking with his father past the tavern on the way to the graveyard; he was holding his father’s hand and looking with dread at the tavern. A peculiar circumstance attracted his attention: there seemed to be some kind of festivity going on, there were crowds of gaily dressed townspeople, peasant women, their husbands, and riff-raff of all sorts, all singing and all more or less drunk.

Near the entrance of the tavern stood a cart, but a strange cart. It was one of those big carts usually drawn by heavy cart-horses and laden with casks of wine or other heavy goods. He always liked looking at those great cart-horses, with their long manes, thick legs, and slow even pace, drawing along a perfect mountain with no appearance of effort, as though it were easier going with a load than without it.

But now, strange to say, in the shafts of such a cart he saw a thin little sorrel beast, one of those peasants’ nags which he had often seen straining their utmost under a heavy load of wood or hay, especially when the wheels were stuck in the mud or in a rut. And the peasants would beat them so cruelly, sometimes even about the nose and eyes, and he felt so sorry, so sorry for them that he almost cried, and his mother always used to take him away from the window. 

All of a sudden there was a great uproar of shouting, singing and the balalaïka, and from the tavern a number of big and very drunken peasants came out, wearing red and blue shirts and coats thrown over their shoulders. “Get in, get in!” shouted one of them, a young thick-necked peasant with a fleshy face red as a carrot. “I’ll take you all, get in!”

But at once there was an outbreak of laughter and exclamations in the crowd.

“Take us all with a beast like that!” “Why, Mikolka, are you crazy to put a nag like that in such a cart?” “And this mare is twenty if she is a day, mates!” “Get in, I’ll take you all,” Mikolka shouted again, leaping first into the cart, seizing the reins and standing straight up in front. “The bay has gone with Matvey,” he shouted from the cart—“and this brute, mates, is just breaking my heart, I feel as if I could kill her.

She’s just eating her head off. Get in, I tell you! I’ll make her gallop! She’ll gallop!” and he picked up the whip, preparing himself with relish to flog the little mare. “Get in! Come along!” The crowd laughed. “D’you hear, she’ll gallop!” “Gallop indeed! She has not had a gallop in her for the last ten years!” “She’ll jog along!” “Don’t you mind her, mates, bring a whip each of you, get ready!” “All right! Give it to her!” They all clambered into Mikolka’s cart, laughing and making jokes.

Six men got in and there was still room for more. They hauled in a fat, rosy-cheeked woman. She was dressed in red cotton, in a pointed, beaded headdress and thick leather shoes; she was cracking nuts and laughing. The crowd round them was laughing

too and indeed, how could they help laughing? That wretched nag was to drag all the cartload of them at a gallop!