PART 2 // chapter 1-7

[모나리자]

"그럼 그는 작가였나요?" "네, 선장님, 그리고 명예로운 집안에 신사답지 못한 손님이군요..." "자, 그럼! 그만! 이미 말씀드렸잖아요..." "일리야 페트로비치!" 서기가 의미심장하게 반복했다. 조수가 그를 재빨리 쳐다보았고, 서기가 살짝 고개를 저었다. "... 그러니까 저는 이 말씀을 드립니다, 존경하는 루이제 이바노브나 씨, 마지막으로 말씀드립니다." 조수가 계속했다. "명예로운 집안에서 또다시 스캔들이 일어난다면, 저는 당신을 감옥에 가두겠습니다. 예의 바른 사회에서 말하는 대로요. 알겠어요? 그러니까 문학가, 작가가 '명예로운 집안'에서 옷자락으로 5루블을 받았다는 말인가요? 멋진 세트군요, 이 작가들!" 그리고 그는 라스콜니코프를 경멸하는 듯한 눈빛으로 바라보았다.

"저번에 식당에서도 스캔들이 일어났어요. 작가가 저녁을 먹고 돈을 내지 않으려고 했어요. '당신에 대한 풍자를 써줄게요.' 그가 말했다. 그리고 지난주 증기선에서 또 다른 사람이 시민 의원의 존경받는 가족, 그의 아내와 딸에게 가장 수치스러운 언어를 사용했습니다. 그리고 얼마 전 제과점에서 나온 사람도 있었습니다. 그들은 작가, 문학가, 학생, 마을의 외침꾼과 같은 사람들입니다.... 푸! 잘 지내시네요! 언젠가 제가 직접 당신을 볼게. 그럼 조심하는 게 낫겠어요! 알겠어요?" 루이제 이바노브나는 서둘러 경의를 표하며 사방으로 절을 올리고 문으로 절을 올렸습니다.

하지만 문에서 그녀는 상큼하고 개방적인 얼굴과 멋진 굵고 아름다운 수염을 가진 잘생긴 장교에게 뒤로 비틀거리며 걸어갔습니다. 이 사람은 바로 그 지역의 감독관인 니코딤 포미치였습니다. 루이제 이바노브나는 거의 땅에 닿을 정도로 서둘러 절을 올리고, 삐걱거리는 작은 걸음걸이로 사무실 밖으로 나갔습니다. "또 천둥과 번개가 칩니다. 허리케인입니다!" Nikodim Fomitch가 Ilya Petrovitch에게 정중하고 친절한 어조로 말했습니다. "다시 흥분했군요. 다시 화가 났어요! 계단에서 들렸어요!"

"그럼요!" Ilya Petrovitch가 신사답게 태연하게 말을 더듬으며, 그는 몇 장의 서류를 들고 다른 테이블로 걸어갔고, 한 걸음 내딛을 때마다 어깨를 경쾌하게 흔들었습니다. "여기, 친절하게 봐주세요. 작가나 학생이 적어도 한 번은 그런 적이 있고, 빚을 갚지 않고, 대출금을 냈고, 방에서 나가지 않고, 끊임없이 그에 대한 불평이 제기되고 있고, 여기서 그는 제가 그의 앞에서 담배를 피우는 것에 항의하는 것을 기쁘게 여겼습니다! 그는 스스로도 얄밉게 행동하고, 그냥 그를 보세요.

이 사람이 바로 그 신사입니다. 그는 매우 매력적입니다!" "가난은 악덕이 아니야, 친구야. 하지만 네가 가루처럼 썩어가는 걸 알아. 모욕을 참을 수 없어. 네가 무언가에 화를 내고 너무 지나친 거겠지." 니코딤 포미치가 말을 이어가며 라스콜니코프에게 상냥하게 돌아섰다. "하지만 네가 틀렸어. 그는 엄청난 녀석이야. 내가 확신하지만, 폭발적이고 폭발적이야! 그는 뜨거워지고, 불타오르고, 끓어넘치고, 그를 막을 수 없어! 그리고 모든 게 끝나! 그리고 밑바닥에는 금의 심장이 있어! 연대에서 그의 별명은 폭발적인 중위였어..." "그리고 그 연대는 정말 대단했어." 일리야 페트로비치가 이 유쾌한 농담에 매우 만족해하며 소리쳤지만, 여전히 심술궂었다.

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“Then he was an author?” “Yes, Mr. Captain, and what an ungentlemanly visitor in an honourable house....” “Now then! Enough! I have told you already...” “Ilya Petrovitch!” the head clerk repeated significantly. The assistant glanced rapidly at him; the head clerk slightly shook his head. “... So I tell you this, most respectable Luise Ivanovna, and I tell it you for the last time,” the assistant went on. “If there is a scandal in your honourable house once again, I will put you yourself in the lock-up, as it is called in polite society. Do you hear? So a literary man, an author took five roubles for his coat-tail in an ‘honourable house’? A nice set, these authors!” And he cast a contemptuous glance at Raskolnikov.

“There was a scandal the other day in a restaurant, too. An author had eaten his dinner and would not pay; ‘I’ll write a satire on you,’ says he. And there was another of them on a steamer last week used the most disgraceful language to the respectable family of a civil councillor, his wife and daughter. And there was one of them turned out of a confectioner’s shop the other day. They are like that, authors, literary men, students, town-criers.... Pfoo! You get along! I shall look in upon you myself one day. Then you had better be careful! Do you hear?” With hurried deference, Luise Ivanovna fell to curtsying in all directions, and so curtsied herself to the door.

But at the door, she stumbled backwards against a good-looking officer with a fresh, open face and splendid thick fair whiskers. This was the superintendent of the district himself, Nikodim Fomitch. Luise Ivanovna made haste to curtsy almost to the ground, and with mincing little steps, she fluttered out of the office. “Again thunder and lightning—a hurricane!” said Nikodim Fomitch to Ilya Petrovitch in a civil and friendly tone. “You are aroused again, you are fuming again! I heard it on the stairs!”

“Well, what then!” Ilya Petrovitch drawled with gentlemanly nonchalance; and he walked with some papers to another table, with a jaunty swing of his shoulders at each step. “Here, if you will kindly look: an author, or a student, has been one at least, does not pay his debts, has given an I O U, won’t clear out of his room, and complaints are constantly being lodged against him, and here he has been pleased to make a protest against my smoking in his presence! He behaves like a cad himself, and just look at him, please.

Here’s the gentleman, and very attractive he is!” “Poverty is not a vice, my friend, but we know you go off like powder, you can’t bear a slight, I daresay you took offence at something and went too far yourself,” continued Nikodim Fomitch, turning affably to Raskolnikov. “But you were wrong there; he is a capital fellow, I assure you, but explosive, explosive! He gets hot, fires up, boils over, and no stopping him! And then it’s all over! And at the bottom he’s a heart of gold! His nickname in the regiment was the Explosive Lieutenant....” “And what a regiment it was, too,” cried Ilya Petrovitch, much gratified at this agreeable banter, though still sulky.