PART I // chapter 7-4

[모나리자]

하지만 일종의 공허함, 심지어 몽상이 점차 그를 사로잡기 시작했다. 그는 때때로 자신을 잊거나, 아니, 중요한 것을 잊고 사소한 일에 사로잡혔다. 그러나 주방을 잠깐 들여다보고 벤치 위에 물이 반쯤 찬 양동이가 있는 것을 보고, 그는 손과 도끼를 씻는 것을 생각했다. 그의 손은 피로 끈적거렸다. 그는 칼날이 달린 도끼를 물 속에 떨어뜨리고, 창문의 깨진 접시에 있던 비누 조각을 낚아채서 양동이에서 손을 씻기 시작했다.

손이 깨끗해지자 그는 도끼를 꺼내 칼날을 씻고, 약 3분 동안 오랫동안 비누로 문지르며 피 얼룩이 있는 나무를 씻었다. 그런 다음 주방에 줄에 걸어 말리고 있던 린넨으로 모든 것을 닦고, 창문에 있는 도끼를 주의 깊게 오랫동안 살펴보았다. 도끼에는 아무런 흔적도 남지 않았고, 나무만 여전히 축축했다. 그는 조심스럽게 도끼를 코트 아래 올가미에 걸었다. 그런 다음 그는 가능한 한 주방의 희미한 불빛 속에서 외투, 바지, 부츠를 살펴보았다.

첫눈에 부츠에는 얼룩만 있는 듯했다. 그는 걸레를 적셔 부츠를 문질렀다. 하지만 그는 꼼꼼히 살피지 않고 있다는 것을 알았다. 그가 간과하고 있는 눈에 띄는 것이 있을지도 모른다. 그는 생각에 잠겨 방 한가운데에 서 있었다. 그의 머릿속에는 어둡고 괴로운 생각들이 떠올랐다. 자신이 미쳤다는 생각, 지금 이 순간은 이성적으로 판단하거나 자신을 보호할 수 없다는 생각, 지금 하고 있는 일과는 전혀 다른 일을 해야 한다는 생각이었다. "맙소사!" 그는 중얼거렸다. "날아가야 해, 날아가." 그는 현관으로 달려갔다.

하지만 여기서 전에는 결코 경험하지 못했던 공포의 충격이 그를 기다리고 있었다. 그는 서서 바라보았고 자신의 눈을 믿을 수 없었다. 문, 계단에서 나오는 바깥쪽 문, 그가 얼마 전에 기다리고 벨을 울렸던 문은 잠겨 있지 않고 적어도 6인치는 열려 있었다. 자물쇠도, 빗장도, 항상, 항상! 그 늙은 여자는 아마도 예방 차원에서 그가 문을 닫은 후에 닫지 않았을 것이다. 하지만, 세상에! 왜, 그는 나중에 리자베타를 보았던가! 그리고 그가, 어떻게, 어떻게 그녀가 어떻게 들어왔을지 생각하지 못했을까! 그녀는 벽을 뚫고 들어올 수 없었을 것이다!

그는 문으로 달려가 걸쇠를 걸었다. "하지만, 아니, 또 잘못된 거야! 나는 도망가야 해, 도망가야 해..." 그는 걸쇠를 풀고 문을 열고 계단에서 귀를 기울이기 시작했다. 그는 오랫동안 귀를 기울였다. 멀리 떨어진 어딘가, 아마도 관문에서 두 목소리가 크고 날카롭게 소리치고, 다투고, 꾸중하고 있었다. "그들은 뭐하는 거야?" 그는 참을성 있게 기다렸다. 마침내 모든 것이 고요해졌다. 마치 갑자기 끊어진 것처럼. 그들은 헤어졌다. 그는 나가려고 했지만, 갑자기 아래층에서 문이 시끄럽게 열리고 누군가가 노래를 부르며 아래층으로 내려가기 시작했다.

"왜 다들 그렇게 시끄러울까?" 그의 머릿속에 번쩍였다. 그는 다시 한 번 문을 닫고 기다렸다. 마침내 모든 것이 고요해졌고, 영혼 하나 움직이지 않았다. 그는 계단을 향해 한 걸음 내딛을 때 새로운 발소리가 들렸다. 발소리는 아주 멀리서, 계단의 맨 아래에서 들렸지만, 그는 첫 소리부터 어떤 이유에서인지 누군가가 4층으로, 늙은 여자에게 오는 것이라고 의심하기 시작했다는 것을 아주 분명하고도 분명하게 기억했다. 왜? 그 소리가 어떻게든 이상하고 의미심장한 것일까?

발소리는 무겁고 고르고 서두르지 않았다. 이제 그는 1층을 지나갔고, 이제 더 높이 올라가고 있었다. 점점 더 뚜렷해지고 있었다! 그는 그의 숨소리를 들을 수 있었다. 그리고 이제 3층에 도착했다. 여기로 오고 있다! 그리고 그는 갑자기 자신이 돌로 변한 것 같았다. 마치 누군가가 쫓기고, 거의 잡히고 죽을 것이고, 그 자리에 뿌리를 박고 팔조차 움직일 수 없는 꿈과 같았다.

마침내 알려지지 않은 사람이 4층으로 올라가자 그는 갑자기 움직이기 시작했고, 깔끔하고 빠르게 아파트로 다시 미끄러져 들어가 문을 닫는 데 성공했습니다. 그러고 나서 그는 갈고리를 잡고 부드럽게, 소리 없이 걸쇠에 고정했습니다. 본능이 그를 도왔습니다. 그가 그렇게 한 후, 그는 숨을 참고 문 옆에 웅크리고 있었습니다. 알려지지 않은 방문객도 이제 문 앞에 있었습니다. 그들은 이제 서로 마주 서 있었는데, 그가 방금 전에 늙은 여자와 함께 서 있었을 때와 마찬가지로 문이 그들을 갈라놓았고 그는 귀를 기울이고 있었습니다. 방문객은 여러 번 헐떡거렸습니다. "그는 크고 뚱뚱한 남자일 거야." 라스콜니코프가 생각하며 손에 도끼를 꽉 쥐었습니다. 정말 꿈 같았습니다. 방문객은 종을 잡고 큰 소리로 울렸습니다.

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But a sort of blankness, even dreaminess, had begun by degrees to take possession of him; at moments he forgot himself, or rather, forgot what was of importance, and caught at trifles. Glancing, however, into the kitchen and seeing a bucket half full of water on a bench, he bethought him of washing his hands and the axe. His hands were sticky with blood. He dropped the axe with the blade in the water, snatched a piece of soap that lay in a broken saucer on the window, and began washing his hands in the bucket.

When they were clean, he took out the axe, washed the blade and spent a long time, about three minutes, washing the wood where there were spots of blood rubbing them with soap. Then he wiped it all with some linen that was hanging to dry on a line in the kitchen and then he was a long while attentively examining the axe at the window. There was no trace left on it, only the wood was still damp. He carefully hung the axe in the noose under his coat. Then as far as was possible, in the dim light in the kitchen, he looked over his overcoat, his trousers and his boots.

At the first glance there seemed to be nothing but stains on the boots. He wetted the rag and rubbed the boots. But he knew he was not looking thoroughly, that there might be something quite noticeable that he was overlooking. He stood in the middle of the room, lost in thought. Dark agonising ideas rose in his mind—the idea that he was mad and that at that moment he was incapable of reasoning, of protecting himself, that he ought perhaps to be doing something utterly different from what he was now doing. “Good God!” he muttered “I must fly, fly,” and he rushed into the entry.

But here a shock of terror awaited him such as he had never known before. He stood and gazed and could not believe his eyes: the door, the outer door from the stairs, at which he had not long before waited and rung, was standing unfastened and at least six inches open. No lock, no bolt, all the time, all that time! The old woman had not shut it after him perhaps as a precaution. But, good God! Why, he had seen Lizaveta afterwards! And how could he, how could he have failed to reflect that she must have come in somehow! She could not have come through the wall!

He dashed to the door and fastened the latch. “But no, the wrong thing again! I must get away, get away....” He unfastened the latch, opened the door and began listening on the staircase. He listened a long time. Somewhere far away, it might be in the gateway, two voices were loudly and shrilly shouting, quarrelling and scolding. “What are they about?” He waited patiently. At last all was still, as though suddenly cut off; they had separated. He was meaning to go out, but suddenly, on the floor below, a door was noisily opened and someone began going downstairs humming a tune.

“How is it they all make such a noise?” flashed through his mind. Once more he closed the door and waited. At last all was still, not a soul stirring. He was just taking a step towards the stairs when he heard fresh footsteps. The steps sounded very far off, at the very bottom of the stairs, but he remembered quite clearly and distinctly that from the first sound he began for some reason to suspect that this was someone coming there, to the fourth floor, to the old woman. Why? Were the sounds somehow peculiar, significant?

The steps were heavy, even and unhurried. Now he had passed the first floor, now he was mounting higher, it was growing more and more distinct! He could hear his heavy breathing. And now the third storey had been reached. Coming here! And it seemed to him all at once that he was turned to stone, that it was like a dream in which one is being pursued, nearly caught and will be killed, and is rooted to the spot and cannot even move one’s arms.

At last when the unknown was mounting to the fourth floor, he suddenly started, and succeeded in slipping neatly and quickly back into the flat and closing the door behind him. Then he took the hook and softly, noiselessly, fixed it in the catch. Instinct helped him. When he had done this, he crouched holding his breath, by the door. The unknown visitor was by now also at the door. They were now standing opposite one another, as he had just before been standing with the old woman, when the door divided them and he was listening. The visitor panted several times. “He must be a big, fat man,” thought Raskolnikov, squeezing the axe in his hand. It seemed like a dream indeed. The visitor took hold of the bell and rang it loudly.