PART I // chapter 1-3

[모나리자]

그 노파는 침묵 속에 그를 마주보며 의아하게 바라보고 있었다. 그녀는 60대의 작고 말라빠진 노파로, 날카로운 악의에 찬 눈과 날카로운 작은 코를 가지고 있었다. 그녀의 무색의 다소 칙칙한 머리카락은 기름으로 두껍게 얼룩져 있었고, 그녀는 그 위에 손수건을 두르지 않았다. 암탉의 다리처럼 보이는 그녀의 얇고 긴 목에는 어떤 종류의 플란넬 천이 매듭지어져 있었고, 더위에도 불구하고 그녀의 어깨에는 노랗게 변한 엉성한 모피 망토가 펄럭이며 걸려 있었다. 그 노파는 매 순간 기침을 하고 신음했다. 그 청년은 그녀를 다소 특이한 표정으로 바라보았을 것이다. 그녀의 눈에 다시 불신의 빛이 번쩍였다. "라스콜니코프, 학생입니다. 저는 한 달 전에 여기에 왔습니다." 그 청년은 반쯤 절을 하며 서둘러 중얼거렸고, 더 정중하게 말해야 한다는 것을 기억했다. "저는 기억합니다, 선생님. 당신이 여기 온 것을 아주 잘 기억합니다." 노파가 여전히 그의 얼굴을 흘깃 쳐다보며 분명하게 말했다. "그리고 여기... 저는 또 같은 심부름을 하러 왔습니다." 라스콜니코프가 말을 이었다. 노파의 불신에 약간 당황하고 놀랐다. "어쩌면 그녀는 항상 그럴지도 모르지만, 저는 다른 때는 눈치채지 못했을 뿐" 그는 불안한 기분으로 생각했다. 노파는 망설이는 듯 잠시 멈췄다가 한쪽으로 걸어가 방 문을 가리키며 방문객이 그녀 앞으로 지나가도록 했다. "들어오세요, 선생님."

젊은이가 들어간 작은 방은 벽에 노란색 종이가 있고, 창문에는 제라늄과 모슬린 커튼이 있었는데, 그 순간 지는 해가 밝게 비쳤다. "그러니까 그때도 태양이 이렇게 빛날 거야!" 라스콜니코프의 머릿속에 마치 우연히 번쩍이는 듯했고, 그는 재빨리 눈을 돌려 방 안의 모든 것을 살펴보며 가능한 한 그 배치를 알아차리고 기억하려고 노력했다. 하지만 방 안에는 특별한 것이 없었다. 가구는 모두 매우 오래되었고 노란색 나무로 되어 있었는데, 커다란 구부러진 나무 등받이가 있는 소파, 소파 앞에 있는 타원형 테이블, 창문 사이에 거울이 고정된 화장대, 벽을 따라 놓인 의자, 손에 새를 든 독일 처녀를 표현한 노란색 액자에 든 반페니 인화 두세 장, 그게 전부였다. 구석에는 작은 이콘 앞에서 불이 타고 있었다. 모든 것이 매우 깨끗했다. 바닥과 가구는 밝게 닦여 있었고, 모든 것이 빛났다. "리자베타의 작품이군." 청년은 생각했다. 아파트 전체에 먼지 한 점 보이지 않았다. "이렇게 깨끗한 건 악의에 찬 늙은 과부의 집이야." 라스콜니코프는 다시 생각하며 문 위에 걸린 면 커튼을 호기심 어린 눈으로 훔쳐보았다. 그 커튼은 또 다른 작은 방으로 이어졌는데, 그 방에는 늙은 여자의 침대와 서랍장이 있었고 그는 전에 한 번도 본 적이 없었다. 이 두 방이 아파트 전체를 이루고 있었다. "무슨 일이야?" 늙은 여자가 엄하게 말하며 방으로 들어와서 예전처럼 그의 앞에 서서 그의 얼굴을 똑바로 바라보았다.

"여기에 전당할 물건을 가져왔어." 그는 주머니에서 구식 납작한 은시계를 꺼냈는데, 시계 뒷면에는 지구본이 새겨져 있었고, 체인은 강철이었다. "하지만 마지막 담보 기간은 끝났어. 어제가 마지막 달이었어." "한 달치 이자를 줄게. 잠깐만 기다려." "하지만 그건 내가 마음대로 할 수 있는 일이야, 선생. 기다리든 담보를 당장 팔든." "알료나 이바노브나, 시계는 얼마 줄 거야?" "당신은 그런 사소한 물건을 가지고 오다니, 나의 좋은 선생님, 거의 가치가 없습니다. 지난번에 반지를 사려고 2루블을 줬는데 보석상에서 1루블 반에 새것으로 살 수 있을 겁니다." "4루블만 주세요. 제가 돌려드리겠습니다. 제 아버지의 것이었습니다. 곧 돈을 좀 받을 겁니다." "1루블 반에 이자를 선불로 주시면 좋겠어요!" "1루블 반!" 청년이 소리쳤다. "마음껏 하세요." 그러자 노파가 그에게 시계를 돌려주었다. 청년은 시계를 받고 너무 화가 나서 떠나려고 했지만, 갈 곳이 더 없다는 사실과 또 다른 목적이 있다는 사실을 기억하고는 즉시 자신을 제지했다. "내려주세요." 그는 거칠게 말했다.

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The old woman stood facing him in silence and looking inquiringly at him. She was a diminutive, withered up old woman of sixty, with sharp malignant eyes and a sharp little nose. Her colourless, somewhat grizzled hair was thickly smeared with oil, and she wore no kerchief over it. Round her thin long neck, which looked like a hen’s leg, was knotted some sort of flannel rag, and, in spite of the heat, there hung flapping on her shoulders, a mangy fur cape, yellow with age. The old woman coughed and groaned at every instant. The young man must have looked at her with a rather peculiar expression‎, for a gleam of mistrust came into her eyes again. “Raskolnikov, a student, I came here a month ago,” the young man made haste to mutter, with a half bow, remembering that he ought to be more polite. “I remember, my good sir, I remember quite well your coming here,” the old woman said distinctly, still keeping her inquiring eyes on his face. “And here... I am again on the same errand,” Raskolnikov continued, a little disconcerted and surprised at the old woman’s mistrust. “Perhaps she is always like that though, only I did not notice it the other time,” he thought with an uneasy feeling. The old woman paused, as though hesitating; then stepped on one side, and pointing to the door of the room, she said, letting her visitor pass in front of her: “Step in, my good sir.”

The little room into which the young man walked, with yellow paper on the walls, geraniums and muslin curtains in the windows, was brightly lighted up at that moment by the setting sun. “So the sun will shine like this then too!” flashed as it were by chance through Raskolnikov’s mind, and with a rapid glance he scanned everything in the room, trying as far as possible to notice and remember its arrangement. But there was nothing special in the room. The furniture, all very old and of yellow wood, consisted of a sofa with a huge bent wooden back, an oval table in front of the sofa, a dressing-table with a looking-glass fixed on it between the windows, chairs along the walls and two or three half-penny prints in yellow frames, representing German damsels with birds in their hands—that was all. In the corner a light was burning before a small ikon. Everything was very clean; the floor and the furniture were brightly polished; everything shone. “Lizaveta’s work,” thought the young man. There was not a speck of dust to be seen in the whole flat. “It’s in the houses of spiteful old widows that one finds such cleanliness,” Raskolnikov thought again, and he stole a curious glance at the cotton curtain over the door leading into another tiny room, in which stood the old woman’s bed and chest of drawers and into which he had never looked before. These two rooms made up the whole flat. “What do you want?” the old woman said severely, coming into the room and, as before, standing in front of him so as to look him straight in the face.

“I’ve brought something to pawn here,” and he drew out of his pocket an old-fashioned flat silver watch, on the back of which was engraved a globe; the chain was of steel. “But the time is up for your last pledge. The month was up the day before yesterday.” “I will bring you the interest for another month; wait a little.” “But that’s for me to do as I please, my good sir, to wait or to sell your pledge at once.” “How much will you give me for the watch, Alyona Ivanovna?” “You come with such trifles, my good sir, it’s scarcely worth anything. I gave you two roubles last time for your ring and one could buy it quite new at a jeweler’s for a rouble and a half.” “Give me four roubles for it, I shall redeem it, it was my father’s. I shall be getting some money soon.” “A rouble and a half, and interest in advance, if you like!” “A rouble and a half!” cried the young man. “Please yourself”—and the old woman handed him back the watch. The young man took it, and was so angry that he was on the point of going away; but checked himself at once, remembering that there was nowhere else he could go, and that he had had another object also in coming. “Hand it over,” he said roughly.