PART I // chapter 7-2

"은 같지는 않은데.... 어떻게 감아 놓았는지!" 끈을 풀려고 창문 쪽으로, 빛 쪽으로 돌아선 그녀는 몇 초 동안 그를 완전히 떠나 그에게 등을 돌린 채 서 있었다. 그는 코트 단추를 풀고 도끼를 올가미에서 풀었지만, 아직 완전히 꺼내지는 않고, 코트 아래에 오른손으로 잡고 있었다. 그의 손은 무섭게 약해져서, 매 순간 점점 더 무감각해지고 나무처럼 굳어지는 것을 느꼈다. 그는 도끼가 미끄러져 떨어질까 봐 두려웠다.... 갑자기 어지러움이 밀려왔다. "하지만 왜 이렇게 묶어 놓은 거지?" 늙은 여자가 짜증을 내며 소리치며 그에게 다가갔다. 그는 더 이상 시간을 낭비할 수 없었다. 그는 도끼를 완전히 뽑아내어 두 팔로 휘둘렀고, 거의 의식하지 못한 채, 거의 기계적으로 그녀의 머리 위로 둔한 쪽을 내렸다. 그는 이 일에 자신의 힘을 쓰지 않는 듯했다. 하지만 그가 도끼를 내리자마자 그의 힘이 돌아왔다. 그 노파는 언제나처럼 맨머리였다. 그녀의 얇고 밝은 머리카락은 회색 줄무늬가 있고 기름이 두껍게 묻어 있었고, 쥐꼬리 모양으로 땋아져 있었고 목덜미에 튀어나온 부러진 뿔 빗으로 고정되어 있었다. 그녀가 너무 키가 작았기 때문에 그 타격은 그녀의 두개골 꼭대기에 떨어졌다. 그녀는 비명을 질렀지만 아주 희미했고, 갑자기 바닥에 뭉툭하게 주저앉아 두 손을 머리 위로 들어올렸다. 그녀는 한 손에 여전히 "서약"을 쥐고 있었다. 그러자 그는 그녀에게 둔한 면으로 또 한 번, 또 한 번 타격을 가했고, 같은 자리에 타격을 가했다. 뒤집힌 유리에서 피가 뿜어져 나오자, 시체가 뒤로 넘어졌다. 그는 뒤로 물러나서, 그것을 떨어뜨리고, 즉시 그녀의 얼굴 위로 몸을 숙였다. 그녀는 죽었다. 그녀의 눈은 눈구멍에서 나오는 듯했고, 이마와 얼굴 전체가 경련하듯이 삐죽삐죽하게 ... 그는 도끼를 시체 근처의 바닥에 놓고 그녀의 주머니에서 (흘러내리는 시체를 피하려고 애쓰며) 즉시 만져보았다. 그녀가 지난번에 방문했을 때 열쇠를 꺼낸 것과 같은 오른쪽 주머니였다. 그는 정신을 차리고 혼란이나 현기증은 없었지만 손은 여전히 떨리고 있었다. 그는 나중에 자신이 특별히 조심스럽고 신중하게, 항상 피가 묻지 않으려고 노력했다는 것을 기억해냈다... 그는 즉시 열쇠를 꺼냈다. 모두 예전처럼 강철 고리에 한데 뭉쳐 있었다. 그는 즉시 열쇠를 가지고 침실로 달려갔다. 성스러운 이미지로 가득한 사당이 있는 아주 작은 방이었다. 다른 벽에는 매우 깨끗한 큰 침대가 서 있었고, 실크 패치워크 솜이불로 덮여 있었다. 세 번째 벽에는 서랍장이 있었다. 이상하게도, 그가 열쇠를 서랍장에 넣기 시작하자마자, 열쇠가 딸랑거리는 소리를 듣자마자, 경련성 떨림이 그를 덮쳤다. 그는 갑자기 모든 것을 포기하고 떠나고 싶은 유혹을 느꼈다. 하지만 그것은 잠깐일 뿐이었다. 돌아갈 수 있는 시간은 너무 늦었다. 그는 스스로에게 긍정적으로 미소를 지었다. 그런데 갑자기 또 다른 무서운 생각이 그의 마음에 떠올랐다. 그는 갑자기 늙은 여자가 아직 살아 있고 정신을 차릴지도 모른다고 생각했다. 그는 열쇠를 상자에 넣은 채로 시체로 달려가 도끼를 집어 들고 늙은 여자 위로 다시 들어올렸지만, 내리치지는 않았다. 그녀가 죽었다는 것은 의심의 여지가 없었다. 몸을 굽혀 그녀를 다시 자세히 살펴보니 두개골이 깨지고 한쪽이 멍이 든 것이 분명했다. 그는 손가락으로 만져보려고 했지만, 손을 빼자 실제로는 그렇지 않아도 분명했다. 그러는 동안 완벽한 피 웅덩이가 있었다. 그는 갑자기 그녀의 목에 끈이 있는 것을 알아챘다. 그는 그것을 잡아당겼지만, 그 끈은 튼튼해서 끊어지지 않았고, 게다가 피로 젖어 있었다. 그는 드레스 앞에서 그것을 빼내려고 했지만, 무언가가 그것을 붙잡고 있어서 그것이 나오는 것을 막았다. 그는 참을성이 없어서 도끼를 다시 들어 몸 위에서 끈을 자르려고 했지만, 감히 그러지 못했고, 손과 도끼를 피에 묻히고 2분간 서둘러 노력한 끝에 끈을 자르고 도끼로 몸을 만지지 않고 떼어냈다. 그는 착각하지 않았다. 지갑이었다. 끈에는 키프로스 나무와 구리로 만든 십자가 두 개가 있었고, 은색 세공으로 만든 이미지가 있었고, 강철 테두리와 고리가 달린 기름진 샤무아 가죽 지갑이 함께 있었다. 지갑은 매우 가득 차 있었다. 라스콜니코프는 그것을 보지 않고 주머니에 쑤셔넣고, 늙은 여자의 몸에 십자가를 던진 다음 이번에는 도끼를 가지고 침실로 달려갔다. ------------------------------------------------------------------------“It does not seem somehow like silver.... How he has wrapped it up!” Trying to untie the string and turning to the window, to the light (all her windows were shut, in spite of the stifling heat), she left him altogether for some seconds and stood with her back to him. He unbuttoned his coat and freed the axe from the noose, but did not yet take it out altogether, simply holding it in his right hand under the coat.  His hands were fearfully weak, he felt them every moment growing more numb and more wooden. He was afraid he would let the axe slip and fall.... A sudden giddiness came over him. “But what has he tied it up like this for?” the old woman cried with vexation and moved towards him. He had not a minute more to lose. He pulled the axe quite out, swung it with both arms, scarcely conscious of himself, and almost without effort, almost mechanically, brought the blunt side down on her head.  He seemed not to use his own strength in this. But as soon as he had once brought the axe down, his strength returned to him. The old woman was as always bareheaded. Her thin, light hair, streaked with grey, thickly smeared with grease, was plaited in a rat’s tail and fastened by a broken horn comb which stood out on the nape of her neck. As she was so short, the blow fell on the very top of her skull.  She cried out, but very faintly, and suddenly sank all of a heap on the floor, raising her hands to her head. In one hand she still held “the pledge.” Then he dealt her another and another blow with the blunt side and on the same spot. The blood gushed as from an overturned glass, the body fell back. He stepped back, let it fall, and at once bent over her face; she was dead. Her eyes seemed to be starting out of their sockets, the brow and the whole face were drawn and contorted convulsively.  He laid the axe on the ground near the dead body and felt at once in her pocket (trying to avoid the streaming body)—the same right-hand pocket from which she had taken the key on his last visit. He was in full possession of his faculties, free from confusion or giddiness, but his hands were still trembling. He remembered afterwards that he had been particularly collected and careful, trying all the time not to get smeared with blood.... He pulled out the keys at once, they were all, as before, in one bunch on a steel ring. He ran at once into the bedroom with them.  It was a very small room with a whole shrine of holy images. Against the other wall stood a big bed, very clean and covered with a silk patchwork wadded quilt. Against a third wall was a chest of drawers. Strange to say, so soon as he began to fit the keys into the chest, so soon as he heard their jingling, a convulsive shudder passed over him. He suddenly felt tempted again to give it all up and go away. But that was only for an instant; it was too late to go back. He positively smiled at himself, when suddenly another terrifying idea occurred to his mind.  He suddenly fancied that the old woman might be still alive and might recover her senses. Leaving the keys in the chest, he ran back to the body, snatched up the axe and lifted it once more over the old woman, but did not bring it down. There was no doubt that she was dead. Bending down and examining her again more closely, he saw clearly that the skull was broken and even battered in on one side.  He was about to feel it with his finger, but drew back his hand and indeed it was evident without that. Meanwhile there was a perfect pool of blood.  All at once he noticed a string on her neck; he tugged at it, but the string was strong and did not snap and besides, it was soaked with blood. He tried to pull it out from the front of the dress, but something held it and prevented its coming. In his impatience he raised the axe again to cut the string from above on the body, but did not dare, and with difficulty, smearing his hand and the axe in the blood, after two minutes’ hurried effort, he cut the string and took it off without touching the body with the axe; he was not mistaken—it was a purse.  On the string were two crosses, one of Cyprus wood and one of copper, and an image in silver filigree, and with them a small greasy chamois leather purse with a steel rim and ring. The purse was stuffed very full; Raskolnikov thrust it in his pocket without looking at it, flung the crosses on the old woman’s body and rushed back into the bedroom, this time taking the axe with him.