Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

Метод чтения Ильи Франка

Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

Книгу подготовил Илья Франк

Mario Puzo

The Godfather

Book 1

Behind every great fortune there is a crime

За каждым крупным богатством скрывается преступление

- Balzac

Chapter 1

Amerigo Bonasera sat in New York Criminal Court (в уголовном суде) Number 3 and waited for justice (ждал правосудия); vengeance (мести [‘vendG∂ns]) on the men who had so cruelly hurt his daughter (жестоко надругались; to hurt - ранить), who had tried to dishonor her (обесчестить).

The judge, a formidably heavy-featured man (очень крупный человек с грубыми: «тяжелыми» чертами лица), rolled up the sleeves (засучил рукава) of his black robe as if to physically chastise (словно для того, чтобы физически покарать [t∫æ’staız]) the two young men standing before the bench (перед скамьей /подсудимых/). His face was cold with majestic contempt (от величественного презрения). But there was something false in all this that Amerigo Bonasera sensed but did not yet understand.

"You acted like the worst kind of degenerates," the judge said harshly (жестким голосом; degenerate [dı’dGen∂rıt]). Yes, yes, thought Amerigo Bonasera. Animals. Animals. The two young men, glossy hair crew cut (с блестящими волосами, коротко подстриженными; crew cut – подстриженный ежиком), scrubbed clean-cut faces (с гладко выбритыми лицами; to scrub – мыть, скрести) composed into humble contrition (принявшими: «сложенными в» смиренное, самоуничижительное выражение; contrite - кающийся), bowed their heads in submission (покорно: «в покорности»).

The judge went on. "You acted like wild beasts in a jungle and you are fortunate you did not sexually molest that poor girl (ваше счастье, что вы не изнасиловали; to molest– приставать; сексуально домогаться) or I'd put you behind bars (за решетку) for twenty years." The judge paused, his eyes beneath impressively thick brows (под выразительно густыми бровями) flickered slyly (хитро блеснули) toward the sallow-faced (в сторону мрачного: «с бледноватым, желтоватым лицом») Amerigo Bonasera, then lowered to a stack of probation reports before him (к стопке, кипе протоколов с просьбами об условном освобождении; probation – условное освобождение, испытательный срок; report - сообщение). He frowned (нахмурился) and shrugged (пожал плечами) as if convinced against his own natural desire (словно убежденный против своего собственного естественного желания). He spoke again.

"But because of your youth, your clean records (безукоризненное прошлое; record – запись, свидетельство), because of your fine families, and because the law in its majesty (закон в своем величии) does not seek vengeance (не ищет мести), I hereby sentence you (я этим приговариваю вас) to three years' confinement (заключения) to the penitentiary (в /каторжной/ тюрьме [penı’ten∫∂rı]). Sentence to be suspended (условно; to suspend - приостанавливать)."

Only forty years of professional mourning (профессионального траура; to mourn [mo:n] – скорбеть) kept the overwhelming frustration and hatred from showing (воспрепятствовали всеохватному отчаянию и ненависти показаться; to overwhelm - захватывать) on Amerigo Bonasera's face. His beautiful young daughter was still in the hospital with her broken jaw (со сломанной челюстью) wired together (скрепленной проволокой); and now these two animales (звери – итал.) went free? It had all been a farce. He watched the happy parents cluster around their darling sons (как обступили; cluster – кисть, пучок, гроздь). Oh, they were all happy now, they were smiling now.

The black bile (черная желчь), sourly bitter (кисло горькая), rose in Bonasera's throat, overflowed through tightly clenched teeth (перелилась, вылилась через тесно стиснутые зубы). He used his white linen pocket handkerchief (льняной носовой платок) and held it against his lips. He was standing so when the two young men strode freely up the aisle (прошагали в направлении к выходу: «по проходу, в боковом крыле зала»; to stride), confident (уверенно) and cool-eyed, smiling, not giving him so much as a glance (даже не взглянув на него). He let them pass (дал им пройти) without saying a word, pressing the fresh linen against his mouth.

The parents of the animales were coming by now, two men and two women his age (его возраста) but more American in their dress. They glanced at him, shamefaced (стыдливо), yet in their eyes was an odd, triumphant defiance (странный, триумфальный вызов).

Out of control (потеряв самообладание), Bonasera leaned forward (наклонился вперед) toward the aisle and shouted hoarsely (прокричал грубо), "You will weep as I have wept - I will make you weep as your children make me weep" - the linen at his eyes now. The defense attorneys (адвокаты защиты [∂’t∂:nı]) bringing up the rear (замыкая движение; rear – тыл; зад) swept their clients forward in tight little band (подталкивали своих клиентов вперед компактной: «сжатой» маленькой кучкой), enveloping (окружая: «окутывая») the two young men, who had started back down the aisle as if to protect their parents. A huge bailiff (служащий суда) moved quickly to block the row (заблокировать, перекрыть ряд) in which Bonasera stood. But it was not necessary.

All his years in America, Amerigo Bonasera had trusted in law and order. And he had prospered thereby (и потому: «при этом, через это» процветал). Now, though his brain smoked with hatred, though wild visions (видения) of buying a gun and killing the two young men jangled the very bones of his skull (отдались в самих костях = даже в костях его черепа; to jangle – звякать), Bonasera turned to his still uncomprehending wife (к своей до сих пор ничего не понявшей жене) and explained to her, "They have made fools of us (они оставили нас в дураках, поиздевались над нами)." He paused and then made his decision (решение), no longer fearing the cost (больше не боясь цены /которую за это придется заплатить/). "For justice we must go on our knees (за справедливостью мы на коленях поползем) to Don Corleone."

Amerigo Bonasera sat in New York Criminal Court Number 3 and waited for justice; vengeance on the men who had so cruelly hurt his daughter, who had tried to dishonor her.

The judge, a formidably heavy-featured man, rolled up the sleeves of his black robe as if to physically chastise the two young men standing before the bench. His face was cold with majestic contempt. But there was something false in all this that Amerigo Bonasera sensed but did not yet understand.

"You acted like the worst kind of degenerates," the judge said harshly. Yes, yes, thought Amerigo Bonasera. Animals. Animals. The two young men, glossy hair crew cut, scrubbed clean-cut faces composed into humble contrition, bowed their heads in submission.

The judge went on. "You acted like wild beasts in a jungle and you are fortunate you did not sexually molest that poor girl or I'd put you behind bars for twenty years." The judge paused, his eyes beneath impressively thick brows flickered slyly toward the sallow-faced Amerigo Bonasera, then lowered to a stack of probation reports before him. He frowned and shrugged as if convinced against his own natural desire. He spoke again.

"But because of your youth, your clean records, because of your fine families, and because the law in its majesty does not seek vengeance, I hereby sentence you to three years' confinement to the penitentiary. Sentence to be suspended."

Only forty years of professional mourning kept the overwhelming frustration and hatred from showing on Amerigo Bonasera's face. His beautiful young daughter was still in the hospital with her broken jaw wired together; and now these two animales went free? It had all been a farce. He watched the happy parents cluster around their darling sons. Oh, they were all happy now, they were smiling now.

The black bile, sourly bitter, rose in Bonasera's throat, overflowed through tightly clenched teeth. He used his white linen pocket handkerchief and held it against his lips. He was standing so when the two young men strode freely up the aisle, confident and cool-eyed, smiling, not giving him so much as a glance. He let them pass without saying a word, pressing the fresh linen against his mouth.

The parents of the animales were coming by now, two men and two women his age but more American in their dress. They glanced at him, shamefaced, yet in their eyes was an odd, triumphant defiance.

Out of control, Bonasera leaned forward toward the aisle and shouted hoarsely, "You will weep as I have wept - I will make you weep as your children make me weep" - the linen at his eyes now. The defense attorneys bringing up the rear swept their clients forward in tight little band, enveloping the two young men, who had started back down the aisle as if to protect their parents. A huge bailiff moved quickly to block the row in which Bonasera stood. But it was not necessary.

All his years in America, Amerigo Bonasera had trusted in law and order. And he had prospered thereby. Now, though his brain smoked with hatred, though wild visions of buying a gun and killing the two young men jangled the very bones of his skull, Bonasera turned to his still uncomprehending wife and explained to her, "They have made fools of us." He paused and then made his decision, no longer fearing the cost. "For justice we must go on our knees to Don Corleone."

In a garishly (роскошно, крикливо) decorated Los Angeles hotel suite, Johnny Fontane was as jealously drunk (так же «ревниво пьян» = пьян из-за ревности) as any ordinary husband. Sprawled (развалившись) on a red couch, he drank straight (прямо) from the bottle of scotch in his hand, then washed the taste away by dunking (макая) his mouth in a crystal bucket of ice cubes and water. It was four in the morning and he was spinning drunken fantasies (плел = воображал пьяные фантазии) of murdering his trampy wife (что он убивает свою гулящую жену; to tramp - бродяжничать) when she got home, if she ever did come home (если вообще придет). It was too late to call his first wife and ask about the kids and he felt funny about calling any of his friends (ему было неловко, как-то не хотелось звонить кому-нибудь из друзей) now that his career was plunging downhill (летела: «падала вниз; ныряла» вниз по склону, с горки). There had been a time when they would have been delighted (были бы в восторге), flattered (польщены) by his calling them at four in the morning but now he bored them (он был им скучен = казался им занудой). He could even smile a little to himself as he thought that on the way up (когда дело шло в гору) Johnny Fontane's troubles had fascinated (привлекали, были интересны для) some of the greatest female stars in America.

Gulping (потягивaя: «глотая») at his bottle of scotch, he heard finally his wife's key in the door, but he kept drinking until she walked into the room and stood before him. She was to him so very beautiful, the angelic face, soulful (живые, «одушевленные») violet eyes, the delicately fragile (нежно-хрупкое) but perfectly formed body. On the screen her beauty was magnified, spiritualized (на экране ее красота была возвеличенной, одухотворенной). A hundred million men all over the world were in love with the face of Margot Ashton. And paid to see it on the screen.

"Where the hell were you?" Johnny Fontane asked.

"Out fucking (да потрахаться ходила)," she said.

She had misjudged his drunkenness (неверно оценила его опьянение = степень его опьянения). He sprang over the cocktail table and grabbed her by the throat (схватил за глотку). But close up to that magical face, the lovely violet eyes, he lost his anger (утратил свою злобу) and became helpless again. She made the mistake of smiling mockingly (насмешливо), saw his fist draw back (увидела, что он снова занес кулак). She screamed, "Johnny, not in the face, I'm making a picture."

She was laughing. He punched her (ударил ее; to punch – ударить кулаком) in the stomach and she fell to the floor. He fell on top of her. He could smell her fragrant breath (ароматное, благоуханное дыхание) as she gasped for air (ловила ртом воздух). He punched her on the arms and on the thigh muscles of her silky tanned legs (шелковистых загорелых ног). He beat her as he had beaten snotty (сопливых) smaller kids long ago when he had been a tough (крутым: «жестким, крепким») teenager in New York's Hell's Kitchen (в Адской Кухне = в одном из кварталов бедноты). A painful punishment (болезненное наказание) that would leave no lasting disfigurement of loosened teeth (никакого длящегося = надолго повреждения вроде выбитого зуба) or broken nose.

But he was not hitting her hard enough. He couldn't. And she was giggling (хихикала) at him. Spread-eagled (раскинувшись, распластавшись) on the floor, her brocaded gown (платье с бархатной оторочкой, с бархатными нашивками; brocade [br∂u’keıd]) hitched up (задранное) above her thighs, she taunted him (насмехалась над ним) between giggles. "Come on, stick it in (воткни его). Stick it in, Johnny, that's what you really want."

Johnny Fontane got up. He hated the woman on the floor but her beauty was a magic shield. Margot rolled away (откатилась в сторону), and in a dancer's spring (прыжком танцовщицы) was on her feet facing him (напротив него, перед ним). She went into a childish mocking dance (она начала по-детски насмешливо пританцовывать) and chanted (напевала), "Johnny never hurt me, Johnny never hurt me." Then almost sadly (почти грустно, с досадой) with grave beauty (со строгой красотой) she said, "You poor silly bastard (жалкий, глупый выродок), giving me cramps (судороги /сводящие ноги/) like a kid. Ah, Johnny, you always will be a dumb romantic guinea (тупым индюком, глупым романтичным итальяшкой; guinea-hen – цесарка ['gını]; /сленг, презрит./ итальяшка), you even make love like a kid. You still think screwing is really like those dopey songs (глуповатые, жалкие, пошлые; dopey также – находящийся под воздействием dope - наркотика) you used to sing." She shook her head and said, "Poor Johnny. Good-bye, Johnny." She walked into the bedroom and he heard her turn the key in the lock (в замке).

Johnny sat on the floor with his face in his hands. The sick, humiliating despair overwhelmed him (унизительное, унижающее отчаяние одолевало, захлестывало его). And then the gutter toughness (упрямство, крепость уличного мальчишки; gutter – водосток, канава) that had helped him survive the jungle of Hollywood made him pick up the phone and call for a car to take him to the airport. There was one person who could save him. He would go back to New York. He would go back to the one man with the power, the wisdom, he needed and a love he still trusted. His Godfather Corleone.

In a garishly decorated Los Angeles hotel suite, Johnny Fontane was as jealously drunk as any ordinary husband. Sprawled on a red couch, he drank straight from the bottle of scotch in his hand, then washed the taste away by dunking his mouth in a crystal bucket of ice cubes and water. It was four in the morning and he was spinning drunken fantasies of murdering his trampy wife when she got home, if she ever did come home. It was too late to call his first wife and ask about the kids and he felt funny about calling any of his friends now that his career was plunging downhill. There had been a time when they would have been delighted, flattered by his calling them at four in the morning but now he bored them. He could even smile a little to himself as he thought that on the way up Johnny Fontane's troubles had fascinated some of the greatest female stars in America.

Gulping at his bottle of scotch, he heard finally his wife's key in the door, but he kept drinking until she walked into the room and stood before him. She was to him so very beautiful, the angelic face, soulful violet eyes, the delicately fragile but perfectly formed body. On the screen her beauty was magnified, spiritualized. A hundred million men all over the world were in love with the face of Margot Ashton. And paid to see it on the screen.

"Where the hell were you?" Johnny Fontane asked.

"Out fucking," she said.

She had misjudged his drunkenness. He sprang over the cocktail table and grabbed her by the throat. But close up to that magical face, the lovely violet eyes, he lost his anger and became helpless again. She made the mistake of smiling mockingly, saw his fist draw back. She screamed, "Johnny, not in the face, I'm making a picture."

She was laughing. He punched her in the stomach and she fell to the floor. He fell on top of her. He could smell her fragrant breath as she gasped for air. He punched her on the arms and on the thigh muscles of her silky tanned legs. He beat her as he had beaten snotty smaller kids long ago when he had been a tough teenager in New York's Hell's Kitchen. A painful punishment that would leave no lasting disfigurement of loosened teeth or broken nose.

But he was not hitting her hard enough. He couldn't. And she was giggling at him. Spread-eagled on the floor, her brocaded gown hitched up above her thighs, she taunted him between giggles. "Come on, stick it in. Stick it in, Johnny, that's what you really want."

Johnny Fontane got up. He hated the woman on the floor but her beauty was a magic shield. Margot rolled away, and in a dancer's spring was on her feet facing him. She went into a childish mocking dance and chanted, "Johnny never hurt me, Johnny never hurt me." Then almost sadly with grave beauty she said, "You poor silly bastard, giving me cramps like a kid. Ah, Johnny, you always will be a dumb romantic guinea, you even make love like a kid. You still think screwing is really like those dopey songs you used to sing." She shook her head and said, "Poor Johnny. Good-bye, Johnny." She walked into the bedroom and he heard her turn the key in the lock.

Johnny sat on the floor with his face in his hands. The sick, humiliating despair overwhelmed him. And then the gutter toughness that had helped him survive the jungle of Hollywood made him pick up the phone and call for a car to take him to the airport. There was one person who could save him. He would go back to New York. He would go back to the one man with the power, the wisdom, he needed and a love he still trusted. His Godfather Corleone.

The baker, Nazorine, pudgy (коротенький и толстый /о человеке/; маленький и плотный /о предмете/) and crusty (покрытый корочкой; раздражительный, неприветливый, грубый) as his great Italian loaves (буханки), still dusty with flour (все еще покрытый мучной пылью; dust – пыль; flour – мука [flau∂]), scowled at his wife (сердился, бросал сердитые взгляды, хмурился), his nubile (достигшую брачного возраста, созревшую [‘nju:bıl]) daughter, Katherine, and his baker's helper, Enzo. Enzo had changed into his prisoner-of-war uniform (переоделся в форму военнопленного) with its green-lettered armband (с повязкой с зелеными буквами, надписью) and was terrified (был в ужасе) that this scene would make him late (заставит его опоздать) reporting (доложить /о себе/ = явиться) back to Governor's Island. One of the many thousands of Italian Army prisoners paroled (освобожденный условно [p∂’r∂ul]) daily to work in the American economy, he lived in constant fear (в постоянном страхе) of that parole being revoked (отменено: «отозвано»). And so the little comedy being played now (которая сейчас разыгрывалась) was, for him, a serious business.

Nazorine asked fiercely (гневно), "Have you dishonored (обесчестил) my family? Have you given my daughter a little package (сверточек) to remember you by now that the war is over (теперь, когда война закончилась) and you know America will kick your ass (пнет твой зад = выбросит тебя пинком под зад) back to your village full of shit (в твою деревню, полную дерьма [‘vılıdG]) in Sicily?"

Enzo, a very short (низкорослый), strongly built boy («сильно сложенный» парень), put his hand over his heart and said almost in tears, yet cleverly (почти в слезах, но разумно), "Padrone, I swear by the Holy Virgin (клянусь Святой Девой) I have never taken advantage of your kindness (я никогда не злоупотреблял вашим великодушием; advantage [∂d’vα:ntıdG] – преимущество; выгода, польза; to take advantage of – обмануть, перехитрить кого-либо; воспользоваться чем-либо). I love your daughter with all respect. I ask for her hand with all respect. I know I have no right, but if they send me back to Italy I can never come back to America. I will never be able to marry Katherine."

Nazorine's wife, Filomena, spoke to the point (высказалась по сути, без дураков). "Stop all this foolishness (прекрати все эти глупости)," she said to her pudgy husband. "You know what you must do. Keep Enzo here, send him to hide (прятаться, скрываться) with our cousins in Long Island." Katherine was weeping. She was already plump (полной), homely (домашней, обычной = невзрачной) and sprouting a faint moustache (с пробивающимися легкими усиками; to sprout – давать ростки; faint – слабый, тусклый, нечеткий; moustache [m∂’stα:∫]). She would never get a husband as handsome as Enzo, never find another man who touched her body in secret places with such respectful love. "I'll go and live in Italy," she screamed at her father. "I'll run away if you don't keep Enzo here."

Nazorine glanced at her shrewdly (взглянул на нее пронзительно, видящим насквозь взглядом; shrewd – пронизывающий; проницательный). She was a "hot number" (горячая штучка) this daughter of his. He had seen her brush her swelling buttocks (как она терлась своими пухлыми, набухающими ягодицами) against Enzo's front (о «перёд» Энцо) when the baker's helper squeezed (протиснулся) behind her to fill the counter baskets (чтобы наполнить корзины для расфасовки) with hot loaves from the oven (из печи [Lvn]). The young rascal's hot loaf would be in her oven (горячий хлебец этого негодяя окажется в ее печке), Nazorine thought lewdly (развязно, цинично; lewd – похотливый, непристойный; распутный), if proper steps were not taken (если не будут предприняты надлежащие шаги). Enzo must be kept in America and be made an American citizen (и сделан американским гражданином [‘sıtızn]). And there was only one man who could arrange such an affair (уладить такое дело [∂'reındG]). The Godfather. Don Corleone.

The baker, Nazorine, pudgy and crusty as his great Italian loaves, still dusty with flour, scowled at his wife, his nubile daughter, Katherine, and his baker's helper, Enzo. Enzo had changed into his prisoner-of-war uniform with its green-lettered armband and was terrified that this scene would make him late reporting back to Governor's Island. One of the many thousands of Italian Army prisoners paroled daily to work in the American economy, he lived in constant fear of that parole being revoked. And so the little comedy being played now was, for him, a serious business.

Nazorine asked fiercely, "Have you dishonored my family? Have you given my daughter a little package to remember you by now that the war is over and you know America will kick your ass back to your village full of shit in Sicily?"

Enzo, a very short, strongly built boy, put his hand over his heart and said almost in tears, yet cleverly, "Padrone, I swear by the Holy Virgin I have never taken advantage of your kindness. I love your daughter with all respect. I ask for her hand with all respect. I know I have no right, but if they send me back to Italy I can never come back to America. I will never be able to marry Katherine."

Nazorine's wife, Filomena, spoke to the point. "Stop all this foolishness," she said to her pudgy husband. "You know what you must do. Keep Enzo here, send him to hide with our cousins in Long Island." Katherine was weeping. She was already plump, homely and sprouting a faint moustache. She would never get a husband as handsome as Enzo, never find another man who touched her body in secret places with such respectful love. "I'll go and live in Italy," she screamed at her father. "I'll run away if you don't keep Enzo here."

Nazorine glanced at her shrewdly. She was a "hot number" this daughter of his. He had seen her brush her swelling buttocks against Enzo's front when the baker's helper squeezed behind her to fill the counter baskets with hot loaves from the oven. The young rascal's hot loaf would be in her oven, Nazorine thought lewdly, if proper steps were not taken. Enzo must be kept in America and be made an American citizen. And there was only one man who could arrange such an affair. The Godfather. Don Corleone.

All of these people and many others received engraved invitations (красиво отпечатанные приглашения; to engrave – гравировать, вырезать /по камню, дереву/) to the wedding (на свадьбу) of Miss Constanzia Corleone, to be celebrated (которая должна была быть отпразднована) on the last Saturday in August 1945. The father of the bride, Don Vito Corleone, never forgot his old friends and neighbors though he himself now lived in a huge house on Long Island. The reception would be held (прием будет проводиться) in that house and the festivities would go on all day (и празднование будет продолжаться весь день; festivity [fes’tıvıtı] – веселье; праздник). There was no doubt it would be a momentous occasion (важное событие (momentous [m∂u'ment∂s] – важный, весомый, влиятельный; occasion [∂’keıG∂n] – возможность, случай; событие, происшествие). The war with the Japanese had just ended so there would not be any nagging fear (так что не будет никакого мучающего, докучающего страха; to nag - придираться, изводить; болеть, ныть) for their sons fighting in the Army to cloud these festivities (омрачить = который бы омрачил). A wedding was just what people needed to show their joy.

And so on that Saturday morning the friends of Don Corleone streamed out (повалили) of New York City to do him honor. They bore cream-colored (кремового = светло-желтого цвета) envelopes (конверты ['env∂l∂up]) stuffed with cash (набитые наличными) as bridal gifts (в качестве свадебных подарков), no checks. Inside each envelope a card established (устанавливала = сообщала о) the identity of the giver and the measure (степень [‘meG∂]) of his respect for the Godfather. A respect truly earned (уважение подлинно заслуженное, заслуженно заработанное).

Don Vito Corleone was a man to whom everybody came for help, and never were they disappointed (разочарованы). He made no empty promises (пустых обещаний; promise [‘promıs]), nor the craven excuse (малодушную отговорку [‘kreıv∂n]) that his hands were tied by more powerful forces (связаны более могущественными силами) in the world than himself. It was not necessary (необходимым [‘nesıs∂rı]) that he be your friend, it was not even important (даже не было важно) that you had no means (средств = возможностей) with which to repay him (отплатить). Only one thing was required (требовалось). That you, you yourself, proclaim your friendship (заявлял о своей дружбе, о своих дружеских чувствах /к нему/ [pr∂'kleım]). And then, no matter (не важно) how poor or powerless (бессилен) the supplicant (проситель [‘sLplık∂nt]), Don Corleone would take that man's troubles to his heart (примет беды это человека к сердцу = поможет ему). And he would let nothing stand in the way (не позволит ничему встать на пути = помешать) to a solution of that man's woe (решению бед того человека; woe [w∂u] – горе, несчастья). His reward (награда [rı’wo:d])? Friendship, the respectful title of "Don," and sometimes the more affectionate salutation (более сердечное приветствие [∂'fek∫nıt]) of "Godfather." And perhaps, to show respect only, never for profit (никогда, вовсе не для пользы, прибыли), some humble gift (простой, незатейливый; humble - смиренный) - a gallon of homemade wine or a basket of peppered taralles specially baked to grace (чтобы украсить) his Christmas table. It was understood (понималось = все понимали, конечно), it was mere good manners (всего лишь вежливость: «хорошие манеры»), to proclaim that you were in his debt (в долгу у него) and that he had the right to call upon you (прийти к тебе: «навестить тебя) at any time to redeem (to redeem - возвращать, получать обратно; искупать) your debt by some small service.

Now on this great day, his daughter's wedding day, Don Vito Corleone stood in the doorway (на пороге, в дверях) of his Long Beach home to greet his guests, all of them known (из которых он всех знал: «все из них знаемые»), all of them trusted (которым он доверял). Many of them owed their good fortune (были обязаны своим успехом; to owe [∂u] – быть должным, в долгу) in life to the Don and on this intimate occasion felt free to call him "Godfather" to his face. Even the people performing festal services (исполняющие «праздничное обслуживание») were his friends. The bartender (бармен) was an old comrade (приятель) whose gift was all the wedding liquors ([lık∂]) and his own expert skills («опытные» умения, навыки). The waiters (официанты) were the friends of Don Corleone's sons. The food on the garden picnic tables had been cooked by the Don's wife and her friends and the gaily festooned (весело наряженный гирляндами; festoon – гирлянда, фестон) one-acre garden itself had been decorated (был разукрашен) by the young girl-chums of the bride (подружками невесты; chum – близкий друг, приятель).

Don Corleone received everyone (принимал всех [rı’sı:v]) - rich and poor, powerful and humble - with an equal show of love (с одинаковым выражением любви ['ıkw∂l]). He slighted no one (никому не выказал пренебрежения, никем не пренебрег, никого не обидел). That was his character. And the guests so exclaimed (так восклицали [ıks'kleım]) at how well he looked in his tux (= tuxedo [tLk’sıd∂u] - смокинг) that an inexperienced observer (неопытный = сторонний наблюдатель; experience [ıks’pı∂rı∂ns] - опыт) might easily have thought (мог бы легко подумать) the Don himself was the lucky groom (счастливый жених).

All of these people and many others received engraved invitations to the wedding of Miss Constanzia Corleone, to be celebrated on the last Saturday in August 1945. The father of the bride, Don Vito Corleone, never forgot his old friends and neighbors though he himself now lived in a huge house on Long Island. The reception would be held in that house and the festivities would go on all day. There was no doubt it would be a momentous occasion. The war with the Japanese had just ended so there would not be any nagging fear for their sons fighting in the Army to cloud these festivities. A wedding was just what people needed to show their joy.

And so on that Saturday morning the friends of Don Corleone streamed out of New York City to do him honor. They bore cream-colored envelopes stuffed with cash as bridal gifts, no checks. Inside each envelope a card established the identity of the giver and the measure of his respect for the Godfather. A respect truly earned.

Don Vito Corleone was a man to whom everybody came for help, and never were they disappointed. He made no empty promises, nor the craven excuse that his hands were tied by more powerful forces in the world than himself. It was not necessary that he be your friend, it was not even important that you had no means with which to repay him. Only one thing was required. That you, you yourself, proclaim your friendship. And then, no matter how poor or powerless the supplicant, Don Corleone would take that man's troubles to his heart. And he would let nothing stand in the way to a solution of that man's woe. His reward? Friendship, the respectful title of "Don," and sometimes the more affectionate salutation of "Godfather." And perhaps, to show respect only, never for profit, some humble gift - a gallon of homemade wine or a basket of peppered taralles specially baked to grace his Christmas table. It was understood, it was mere good manners, to proclaim that you were in his debt and that he had the right to call upon you at any time to redeem your debt by some small service.

Now on this great day, his daughter's wedding day, Don Vito Corleone stood in the doorway of his Long Beach home to greet his guests, all of them known, all of them trusted. Many of them owed their good fortune in life to the Don and on this intimate occasion felt free to call him "Godfather" to his face. Even the people performing festal services were his friends. The bartender was an old comrade whose gift was all the wedding liquors and his own expert skills. The waiters were the friends of Don Corleone's sons. The food on the garden picnic tables had been cooked by the Don's wife and her friends and the gaily festooned one-acre garden itself had been decorated by the young girl-chums of the bride.

Don Corleone received everyone - rich and poor, powerful and humble - with an equal show of love. He slighted no one. That was his character. And the guests so exclaimed at how well he looked in his tux that an inexperienced observer might easily have thought the Don himself was the lucky groom.

Standing at the door with him were two of his three sons. The eldest, baptized (окрещенный) Santino but called Sonny by everyone except his father, was looked at askance (наклонно, косо; неодобрительно, с подозрением [∂s'kæns]) by the older Italian men; with admiration by the younger. Sonny Corleone was tall for a first-generation American (для американца первого поколения) of Italian parentage (['pe∂r∂ntıdG] – происхождение), almost six feet, and his crop of bushy, curly hair (шевелюра кудрявых волос; crop – шарообразное вздутие; верхняя часть /например у растений/; урожай) made him look even taller. His face was that of a gross Cupid (тучного; грубого Купидона), the features even (черты ровные = правильные) but the bow-shaped lips (дугообразные губы) thickly sensual (чувственные ['sensju∂l]), the dimpled cleft chin (раздвоенный подбородок с ямочкой; dimple – ямочка; cleft – расселина; расщепленный) in some curious way (неким странным образом = создавали почему-то впечатление) obscene (/чего-то/ непристойного [ob'si:n]). He was built as powerfully as a bull (мощно, как бык) and it was common knowledge (все знали: «это было общим знанием») that he was so generously endowed by nature (так щедро одарен природой; to endow [ın’dau] – наделять, одарять) that his martyred wife (жена-мученица) feared the marriage bed as unbelievers once feared the rack (как неверующие некогда боялись дыбы). It was whispered (шепотом поговаривали) that when as a youth he had visited houses of ill fame (злачные места: «дома плохой репутации»), even the most hardened and fearless putain (даже наиболее закаленные и бесстрашные шлюхи, путаны), after an awed inspection (осмотрев с испугом, благоговением; to awe [o:] – вызывать испуг, благоговение) of his massive organ, demanded double price (требовали двойной оплаты). Here at the wedding feast, some young matrons, widehipped (широкобедрые), wide-mouthed, measured (мерили, рассматривали [‘meG∂]) Sonny Corleone with coolly confident eyes (холодно-уверенными глазами). But on this particular day (но именно в этот день: «в этот особенный, частный день») they were wasting their time (напрасно тратили, теряли время). Sonny Corleone, despite the presence of his wife (несмотря на присутствие) and three small children, had plans for his sister's maid of honor (относительно подружки сестры /на свадьбе/: «почетной девы»), Lucy Mancini. This young girl, fully aware (полностью сознающая /это/ [∂'we∂]), sat at a garden table in her pink formal gown (в розовом парадном платье), a tiara of flowers in her glossy (в блестящих) black hair. She had flirted with Sonny in the past week of rehearsals (репетиций [rı’h∂:s∂l]) and squeezed his hand that morning at the altar. A maiden could do no more (для девицы это немало).

She did not care (ее не волновало: «не заботилась») that he would never be the great man his father had proved to be (каким стал его отец: «доказал быть»). Sonny Corleone had strength (силу), he had courage (смелость [‘kLrıdG]). He was generous (великодушный, добрый, щедрый [‘dGen∂r∂s]) and his heart was admitted (как было признано, считалось; to admit – допускать, соглашаться; считать [∂d'mıt]) to be as big as his organ. Yet he did not have his father's humility (смирения) but instead a quick, hot temper (темперамент, характер) that led him into errors of judgment (вводил в «ошибки суждения»). Though he was a great help in his father's business, there were many who doubted that he would become the heir to it (наследником [e∂]).

The second son, Frederico, called Fred or Fredo, was a child every Italian prayed to the saints for (о котором каждый итальянец молил святых = желал бы иметь). Dutiful (исполнительный: «полный долга»; duty – долг, обязанность), loyal, always at the service of his father, living with his parents at age thirty. He was short and burly (плотный, крепкий, большой и сильный), not handsome but with the same Cupid head of the family, the curly helmet of hair (шлем, каска) over the round face and sensual bow-shaped lips. Only, in Fred, these lips were not sensual but granitelike (словно высечены из гранита: «подобны граниту»). Inclined to dourness (склонный к меланхолии, депрессии; dour [du∂] – мрачный; строгий, суровый), he was still a crutch to his father (все же был опорой; crutch – стойка, опора; костыль), never disputed him, never embarrassed him (никогда не доставлял ему неприятностей, не ставил его в неприятное положение; to embarass [ım’bær∂s] – затруднять, стеснять; ставить в неудобное положение) by scandalous behavior with women (скандальным поведением [bı’heıvj∂]; to behave [bı’heıv] – вести себя). Despite all these virtues (достоинства ['v∂:tju:]) he did not have that personal magnetism, that animal force, so necessary for a leader of men, and he too was not expected to inherit the family business (не ожидалось = не предполагали, что унаследует [ın’herıt]).

Standing at the door with him were two of his three sons. The eldest, baptized Santino but called Sonny by everyone except his father, was looked at askance by the older Italian men; with admiration by the younger. Sonny Corleone was tall for a first-generation American of Italian parentage, almost six feet, and his crop of bushy, curly hair made him look even taller. His face was that of a gross Cupid, the features even but the bow-shaped lips thickly sensual, the dimpled cleft chin in some curious way obscene. He was built as powerfully as a bull and it was common knowledge that he was so generously endowed by nature that his martyred wife feared the marriage bed as unbelievers once feared the rack. It was whispered that when as a youth he had visited houses of ill fame, even the most hardened and fearless putain, after an awed inspection of his massive organ, demanded double price. Here at the wedding feast, some young matrons, widehipped, wide-mouthed, measured Sonny Corleone with coolly confident eyes. But on this particular day they were wasting their time. Sonny Corleone, despite the presence of his wife and three small children, had plans for his sister's maid of honor, Lucy Mancini. This young girl, fully aware, sat at a garden table in her pink formal gown, a tiara of flowers in her glossy black hair. She had flirted with Sonny in the past week of rehearsals and squeezed his hand that morning at the altar. A maiden could do no more.

She did not care that he would never be the great man his father had proved to be. Sonny Corleone had strength, he had courage. He was generous and his heart was admitted to be as big as his organ. Yet he did not have his father's humility but instead a quick, hot temper that led him into errors of judgment. Though he was a great help in his father's business, there were many who doubted that he would become the heir to it.

The second son, Frederico, called Fred or Fredo, was a child every Italian prayed to the saints for. Dutiful, loyal, always at the service of his father, living with his parents at age thirty. He was short and burly, not handsome but with the same Cupid head of the family, the curly helmet of hair over the round face and sensual bow-shaped lips. Only, in Fred, these lips were not sensual but granitelike. Inclined to dourness, he was still a crutch to his father, never disputed him, never embarrassed him by scandalous behavior with women. Despite all these virtues he did not have that personal magnetism, that animal force, so necessary for a leader of men, and he too was not expected to inherit the family business.

The third son, Michael Corleone, did not stand with his father and his two brothers but sat at a table in the most secluded corner (в самом безлюдном уголке; to seclude [sı’klu:d] – отстранять, изолировать) of the garden. But even there he could not escape the attentions (избежать знаков внимания) of the family friends.

Michael Corleone was the youngest son of the Don and the only child who had refused the great man's direction (отказался следовать указаниям этого великого человека). He did not have the heavy, Cupid-shaped face of the other children, and his jet black hair (черные, как смоль; jet – гагат, черный янтарь) was straight rather than curly (скорее прямые, чем вьющиеся). His skin was a clear olive-brown that would have been called beautiful in a girl. He was handsome in a delicate way (красив тонкой, изящной красотой). Indeed there had been a time when the Don had worried about his youngest son's masculinity (беспокоился о «мужеских качествах» = не слишком ли женственен его сын). A worry that was put to rest (беспокойство это отпало, было снято: «было успокоено») when Michael Corleone became seventeen years old.

Now this youngest son sat at a table in the extreme corner (в наиболее удаленном) of the garden to proclaim his chosen alienation (избранную им непричастность; alienation [eılj∂’neı∫∂n] - отдаление, отчужденность) from father and family. Beside him sat the American girl everyone had heard about but whom no one had seen until this day. He had, of course, shown the proper respect (выказал надлежащее уважение) and introduced her (представил ее) to everyone at the wedding, including (включая) his family. They were not impressed with her (она не произвела на них большого впечатления: «не были впечатлены ею»). She was too thin, she was too fair (светлая), her face was too sharply intelligent («остро-умные») for a woman, her manner too free for a maiden. Her name, too, was outlandish (было чуждым, иностранным) to their ears; she called herself Kay Adams. If she had told them that her family had settled (поселилась) in America two hundred years ago and her name was a common one (обычное), they would have shrugged (пожали бы /плечами/).

Every guest noticed that the Don paid no particular attention (не уделил особого внимания) to this third son. Michael had been his favorite before the war and obviously (очевидно) the chosen heir to run the family business (вести семейное дело, управлять делом) when the proper moment came (когда придет надлежащий момент). He had all the quiet force and intelligence of his great father, the born instinct to act in such a way that men had no recourse but to respect him (что людям не оставалось ничего иного, как уважать его; recourse [rı'ko:s] – прибежище, пристанище). But when World War II broke out, Michael Corleone volunteered for the Marine Corps (пошел добровольцем во флот [vol∂n’tı∂]; Marine [m∂’ri:n] – государственный морской флот). He defied his father's express command (он пренебрег явным, недвусмысленно выраженным указанием отца; to defy [dı'faı] – бросать вызов; игнорировать, не обращать внимания) when he did so.

Don Corleone had no desire (никакого желания [dı'zaı∂]), no intention (намерения), of letting his youngest son be killed (допустить, чтобы его сын был убит: «быть убитым») in the service of a power foreign to himself (за чужую, чуждую ему власть: «на службе у власти = державы, иностранной по отношению к нему»). Doctors had been bribed (были подкуплены), secret arrangements (договоренности) had been made. A great deal of money (большое количество) had been spent to take the proper precautions (неоходимые меры предосторожности; precaution [prı'ko:∫∂n] - предосторожность). But Michael was twenty-one years of age and nothing could be done against his own willfulness (своеволие, упрямство). He enlisted (записался) and fought (бился; to fight) over the Pacific Ocean. He became a Captain and won medals. In 1944 his picture was printed in Life magazine with a photo layout of his deeds («с фотографическим изображением» его деяний = подвигов; layout – планировка, расположение; выставка, показ). A friend had shown Don Corleone the magazine (his family did not dare (не осмеливалась)), and the Don had grunted disdainfully (крякнул презрительно; to grunt – хрюкать; ворчать, мычать; disdain [dıs’deın] – презрение, пренебрежение) and said, "He performs those miracles for strangers (выполняет те чудеса для чужаков, иностранцев; miracle ['mır∂kl])."

When Michael Corleone was discharged (демобилизован) early in 1945 to recover (чтобы поправиться, прийти в себя; to recover [rı’kLv∂] – вновь обретать; прийти в себя; выздороветь) from a disabling wound (от раны, мешающей ему продолжать службу; to disable – делать неспособным, непригодным), he had no idea that his father had arranged his release (устроил его освобождение). He stayed home for a few weeks, then, without consulting anyone, entered Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire, and so he left his father's house. To return for the wedding of his sister and to show his own future wife to them, the washed-out rag of an American girl (бесцветную американку: the washed-out rag – застиранная тряпка).

The third son, Michael Corleone, did not stand with his father and his two brothers but sat at a table in the most secluded corner of the garden. But even there he could not escape the attentions of the family friends.

Michael Corleone was the youngest son of the Don and the only child who had refused the great man's direction. He did not have the heavy, Cupid-shaped face of the other children, and his jet black hair was straight rather than curly. His skin was a clear olive-brown that would have been called beautiful in a girl. He was handsome in a delicate way. Indeed there had been a time when the Don had worried about his youngest son's masculinity. A worry that was put to rest when Michael Corleone became seventeen years old.

Now this youngest son sat at a table in the extreme corner of the garden to proclaim his chosen alienation from father and family. Beside him sat the American girl everyone had heard about but whom no one had seen until this day. He had, of course, shown the proper respect and introduced her to everyone at the wedding, including his family. They were not impressed with her. She was too thin, she was too fair, her face was too sharply intelligent for a woman, her manner too free for a maiden. Her name, too, was outlandish to their ears; she called herself Kay Adams. If she had told them that her family had settled in America two hundred years ago and her name was a common one, they would have shrugged.

Every guest noticed that the Don paid no particular attention to this third son. Michael had been his favorite before the war and obviously the chosen heir to run the family business when the proper moment came. He had all the quiet force and intelligence of his great father, the born instinct to act in such a way that men had no recourse but to respect him. But when World War II broke out, Michael Corleone volunteered for the Marine Corps. He defied his father's express command when he did so.

Don Corleone had no desire, no intention, of letting his youngest son be killed in the service of a power foreign to himself. Doctors had been bribed, secret arrangements had been made. A great deal of money had been spent to take the proper precautions. But Michael was twenty-one years of age and nothing could be done against his own willfulness. He enlisted and fought over the Pacific Ocean. He became a Captain and won medals. In 1944 his picture was printed in Life magazine with a photo layout of his deeds. A friend had shown Don Corleone the magazine (his family did not dare), and the Don had grunted disdainfully and said, "He performs those miracles for strangers."

When Michael Corleone was discharged early in 1945 to recover from a disabling wound, he had no idea that his father had arranged his release. He stayed home for a few weeks, then, without consulting anyone, entered Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire, and so he left his father's house. To return for the wedding of his sister and to show his own future wife to them, the washed-out rag of an American girl.

Michael Corleone was amusing Kay Adams (развлекал) by telling her little stories about some of the more colorful wedding guests (о наиболее колоритных). He was, in turn (в свою очередь), amused by her finding (что она находила) these people exotic, and, as always, charmed by her intense interest (очарован ее живым интересом) in anything new and foreign to her experience. Finally her attention was caught (ее внимание было привлечено) by a small group of men gathered around a wooden barrel (собравшихся вокруг деревянной бочки) of homemade wine. The men were Amerigo Bonasera, Nazorine the Baker, Anthony Coppola and Luca Brasi. With her usual alert intelligence (со свойственной ей живой, острой наблюдательностью; alert [∂'l∂:t] – бдительный, настороженный) she remarked (заметила, высказала наблюдение) on the fact that these four men did not seem particularly happy (не кажутся особенно счастливыми). Michael smiled. "No, they're not," he said. "They're waiting to see my father in private (наедине). They have favors to ask (хотят просить об одолжении, помощи)." And indeed it was easy to see that all four men constantly followed the Don with their eyes.

As Don Corleone stood greeting guests, a black Chevrolet sedan came to a stop on the far side of the paved mall (мощеной аллеи). Two men in the front seat pulled notebooks from their jackets and, with no attempt at concealment (не таясь: «без попытки укрывания, утаивания»; to conceal - утаивать), jotted down (начали записывать; jot – йота, ничтожное количество; to jot – кратко записать, бегло набросать) license numbers of the other cars parked around the mall. Sonny turned to his father and said, "Those guys over there must be cops (те парни вон там, должно быть, полицейские)."

Don Corleone shrugged. "I don't own the street (не владею улицей = улица – не моя собственность). They can do what they please."

Sonny's heavy Cupid face grew red with anger (стало красным от гнева). "Those lousy bastards (вшивые выродки), they don't respect anything." He left the steps of the house and walked across the mall to where the black sedan was parked. He thrust his face angrily close to the face of the driver, who did not flinch (не отклонился, не дрогнул; to flinch – вздрагивать /от боли, испуга/; уклоняться, отступать) but flapped open (открыл: «распахнул»; to flap – хлопать, шлепать) his wallet (бумажник ['wolıt]) to show a green identification card (удостоверение). Sonny stepped back without saying a word. He spat (плюнул; to spit) so that the spittle hit the back door (что слюна попала на заднюю дверь) of the sedan and walked away. He was hoping the driver would get out of the sedan and come after him, on the mall, but nothing happened. When he reached the steps (дошел до ступеней: «достиг» ступеней) he said to his father, "Those guys are FBI men (FBI – Federal Bureau of Investigation /ФБР – Федеральное бюро расследований/). They're taking down all the license numbers. Snotty (сопливые; snot – сопли /груб./) bastards."

Don Corleone knew who they were. His closest and most intimate friends had been advised (его наиболее близким друзьям было посоветовано) to attend (посетить, присутствовать на [∂'tend]) the wedding in automobiles not their own. And though he disapproved (не одобрял) of his son's foolish display of anger (глупое выражение, демонстрацию гнева), the tantrum (вспышка раздражения [‘tæntr∂m]) served a purpose (/по/служило цели ['p∂:p∂s]). It would convince the interlopers (убедит непрошенных гостей; interloper – человек, вмешивающийся в чужие дела) that their presence was unexpected (что их присутствие было неожиданным = что их не ждали) and unprepared for (и к этому не были готовы). So Don Corleone himself was not angry. He had long ago learned that society imposes insults (наносит обиды: «накладывает оскорбления») that must be borne (которые нужно уметь стерпеть, снести: «которые должны быть носимы»), comforted (утешаясь) by the knowledge that in this world there comes a time when the most humble of men, if he keeps his eyes open, can take his revenge on the most powerful (может отомстить самому могущественному). It was this knowledge that prevented (предохранило, предупредило) the Don from losing the humility (от утраты смирения) all his friends admired in him (которым восхищались все его друзья [∂d'maı∂]).

But now in the garden behind the house, a four-piece band (квартет, оркестр из четырех музыкантов) began to play. All the guests had arrived. Don Corleone put the intruders out of his mind (выбросил из головы: «ума, памяти» мысли о незваных гостях) and led his two sons to the wedding feast (на свадебный пир).

Michael Corleone was amusing Kay Adams by telling her little stories about some of the more colorful wedding guests. He was, in turn, amused by her finding these people exotic, and, as always, charmed by her intense interest in anything new and foreign to her experience. Finally her attention was caught by a small group of men gathered around a wooden barrel of homemade wine. The men were Amerigo Bonasera, Nazorine the Baker, Anthony Coppola and Luca Brasi. With her usual alert intelligence she remarked on the fact that these four men did not seem particularly happy. Michael smiled. "No, they're not," he said. "They're waiting to see my father in private. They have favors to ask." And indeed it was easy to see that all four men constantly followed the Don with their eyes.

As Don Corleone stood greeting guests, a black Chevrolet sedan came to a stop on the far side of the paved mall. Two men in the front seat pulled notebooks from their jackets and, with no attempt at concealment, jotted down license numbers of the other cars parked around the mall. Sonny turned to his father and said, "Those guys over there must be cops."

Don Corleone shrugged. "I don't own the street. They can do what they please."

Sonny's heavy Cupid face grew red with anger. "Those lousy bastards, they don't respect anything." He left the steps of the house and walked across the mall to where the black sedan was parked. He thrust his face angrily close to the face of the driver, who did not flinch but flapped open his wallet to show a green identification card. Sonny stepped back without saying a word. He spat so that the spittle hit the back door of the sedan and walked away. He was hoping the driver would get out of the sedan and come after him, on the mall, but nothing happened. When he reached the steps he said to his father, "Those guys are FBI men. They're taking down all the license numbers. Snotty bastards."

Don Corleone knew who they were. His closest and most intimate friends had been advised to attend the wedding in automobiles not their own. And though he disapproved of his son's foolish display of anger, the tantrum served a purpose. It would convince the interlopers that their presence was unexpected and unprepared for. So Don Corleone himself was not angry. He had long ago learned that society imposes insults that must be borne, comforted by the knowledge that in this world there comes a time when the most humble of men, if he keeps his eyes open, can take his revenge on the most powerful. It was this knowledge that prevented the Don from losing the humility all his friends admired in him.

But now in the garden behind the house, a four-piece band began to play. All the guests had arrived. Don Corleone put the intruders out of his mind and led his two sons to the wedding feast.

There were, now, hundreds of guests in the huge garden, some dancing on the wooden platform bedecked (украшенной, убранной) with flowers, others sitting at long tables piled high with spicy food (заставленных острой, пикантной пищей; pile – куча, груда; to pile – сваливать в кучу) and gallon jugs (кувшинами. бутылями) of black, homemade wine. The bride, Connie Corleone, sat in splendor («в блеске, великолепии») at a special raised table with her groom, the maid of honor, bridesmaids and ushers (дружками и подружками; usher – швейцар; церемониймейстер; шафер). It was a rustic setting (сельская, деревенская атмосфера; setting – размещение, окружающая обстановка) in the old Italian style. Not to the bride's taste (не по вкусу), but Connie had consented (согласилась) to a "guinea" wedding to please her father because she had so displeasured him (так огорчила) in her choice of a husband (в выборе супруга).

The groom, Carlo Rizzi, was a half-breed (полукровка; to breed – порождать, выводить, разводить /животных/), born of a Sicilian father and the North Italian mother from whom he had inherited his blond hair and blue eyes. His parents lived in Nevada and Carlo had left that state because of a little trouble with the law (из-за небольшой неприятности с законом). In New York he met Sonny Corleone and so met the sister. Don Corleone, of course, sent trusted friends (надежных; to trust – доверять) to Nevada and they reported that Carlo's police trouble was a youthful indiscretion with a gun («юношеская неосторожность с пистолетом»), not serious, that could easily be wiped off (стереть) the books to leave the youth with a clean record (с чистым прошлым; record – запись, протокол; характеристика, биография). They also came back with detailed information on legal gambling (о «законных» азартных играх; to gamble – играть на деньги) in Nevada which greatly interested the Don and which he had been pondering over since (и о чем он размышлял, продолжал размышлять с тех пор: to ponder over). It was part of the Don's greatness (/неотъемлемой/ частью его величия = это была одна из тех вещей, которые делали его великим человеком) that he profited from everything (извлекал пользу из всего).

Connie Corleone was a not quite pretty girl (не больно: «не вполне» красива, красавицей не назовешь), thin and nervous and certain (наверняка, /пред/определенной/) to become shrewish (стать сварливой, вздорной) later in life. But today, transformed by her white bridal gown and eager virginity («страстной девственностью»; eager – страстно желающий, ждущий, напряженный), she was so radiant (лучащейся, излучающей радость) as to be almost beautiful. Beneath the wooden table her hand rested on the muscular thigh of her groom. Her Cupid-bow mouth pouted (дулся = выпячивался) to give him an airy kiss (воздушный поцелуй).

She thought him incredibly handsome (невероятно красивым). Carlo Rizzi had worked in the open desert air while very young – heavy laborer's work. Now he had tremendous forearms (жуткие = огромные, могучие предплечья) and his shoulders bulged (выпячивались, бугрились; bulge – выпуклость) the jacket of his tux. He basked (грелся; to bask – греться /на солнце, у огня/; наслаждаться /счастьем/) in the adoring eyes (в обожающих глазах; to adore) of his bride and filled her glass with wine. He was elaborately (усердно, скрупулезно: «выработанно» [ı’læ’b∂r∂tlı]) courteous (вежлив [‘k∂:tj∂s]) to her as if they were both (словно они оба были) actors in a play. But his eyes kept flickering (все время украдкой поглядывали, косились; to flicker – мигать, мерцать, мелькать) toward the huge silk purse (на огромный шелковый кошелек) the bride wore on her right shoulder and which was now stuffed full of money envelopes. How much did it hold (содержал /в себе/)? Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? Carlo Rizzi smiled. It was only the beginning. He had, after all, married into a royal family («женился в королевскую семью», породнился с королевской семьей). They would have to take care of him (им придется позаботиться о нем).

There were, now, hundreds of guests in the huge garden, some dancing on the wooden platform bedecked with flowers, others sitting at long tables piled high with spicy food and gallon jugs of black, homemade wine. The bride, Connie Corleone, sat in splendor at a special raised table with her groom, the maid of honor, bridesmaids and ushers. It was a rustic setting in the old Italian style. Not to the bride's taste, but Connie had consented to a "guinea" wedding to please her father because she had so displeasured him in her choice of a husband.

The groom, Carlo Rizzi, was a half-breed, born of a Sicilian father and the North Italian mother from whom he had inherited his blond hair and blue eyes. His parents lived in Nevada and Carlo had left that state because of a little trouble with the law. In New York he met Sonny Corleone and so met the sister. Don Corleone, of course, sent trusted friends to Nevada and they reported that Carlo's police trouble was a youthful indiscretion with a gun, not serious, that could easily be wiped off the books to leave the youth with a clean record. They also came back with detailed information on legal gambling in Nevada which greatly interested the Don and which he had been pondering over since. It was part of the Don's greatness that he profited from everything.

Connie Corleone was a not quite pretty girl, thin and nervous and certain to become shrewish later in life. But today, transformed by her white bridal gown and eager virginity, she was so radiant as to be almost beautiful. Beneath the wooden table her hand rested on the muscular thigh of her groom. Her Cupid-bow mouth pouted to give him an airy kiss.

She thought him incredibly handsome. Carlo Rizzi had worked in the open desert air while very young – heavy laborer's work. Now he had tremendous forearms and his shoulders bulged the jacket of his tux. He basked in the adoring eyes of his bride and filled her glass with wine. He was elaborately courteous to her as if they were both actors in a play. But his eyes kept flickering toward the huge silk purse the bride wore on her right shoulder and which was now stuffed full of money envelopes. How much did it hold? Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? Carlo Rizzi smiled. It was only the beginning. He had, after all, married into a royal family. They would have to take care of him.

In the crowd of guests a dapper (подвижный, проворный; щеголеватый, элегантный) young man with the sleek head of a ferret (с гладкой, прилизанной головой хорька) was also studying the silk purse. From sheer habit (чисто по привычке; sheer – абсолютный, полнейший) Paulie Gatto wondered just how he could go about hijacking (размышлял, как бы он мог похитить; to hijack [‘haıdGæk] – нападать с целью грабежа, похищать) that fat pocketbook (кошелек). The idea amused him. But he knew it was idle, innocent dreaming (праздное, невинное мечтание), as small children dream of knocking out tanks (подбивать танки, подбивания танков) with popguns (пугачами). He watched his boss, fat, middle-aged Peter Clemenza whirling (кружащего) young girls around the wooden dance floor in a rustic and lusty (в деревенской и чувственной, бойкой) Tarantella. Clemenza, immensely tall (очень высокий; immense [ı’mens] – безмерный, очень большой, огромный), immensely huge, danced with such skill (умением) and abandon (самозабвением, импульсивностью, страстностью; to abandon [∂'bænd∂n] – покидать, оставлять; отказываться, прекращать), his hard belly lecherously bumping («похотливо» ударялся; lecherous [‘let∫∂r∂s]) – распутный, развратный) the breasts of younger, tinier women (меньших /чем он/; tiny – очень маленький, крошечный), that all the guests were applauding him. Older women grabbed his arm (хватали) to become his next partner. The younger men respectfully cleared off the floor (освобождали место, расчищали /перед ним/ дорогу) and clapped their hands in time to the mandolin's wild strumming (в ритм бренчанию, треньканью). When Clemenza finally collapsed in a chair (плюхнулся, свалился), Paulie Gatto brought him a glass of icy black wine and wiped the perspiring Jovelike brow (потное юпитероподобное чело; brow – бровь; чело /высок./) with his silk handkerchief (платком ['hæŋk∂t∫ıf]). Clemenza was blowing like a whale (тяжело дышал: «дул», как кит) as he gulped down the wine (проглотил, хлебнул, хлебал). But instead of thanking Paulie he said curtly (коротко, резко, грубо), "Never mind being a dance judge («не беспокойся о том, чтобы быть танцевальным судьей» = нечего глазеть на танцы), do your job. Take a walk around the neighborhood (пройдись по окрестностям; neighborhood [‘neıb∂hud] – соседство, соседи; окрестности) and see everything is OK." Paulie slid away into the crowd (скользнул в толпу; to slide).

The band took a refreshment break (перерыв «для освежения»; refreshment – восстановление сил, отдых; refreshments – прохладительные напитки, закуска). A young man named Nino Valenti picked up a discarded mandolin (подобрал брошенную мандолину; to discard – отбрасывать что-то, избавляться от чего-либо), put his left foot up on a chair and began to sing a coarse (грубую [ko:s]) Sicilian love song. Nino Valenti's face was handsome though bloated by continual drinking (раздутое, опухшее от постоянного выпивания) and he was already a little drunk. He rolled his eyes (закатывал) as his tongue caressed the obscene lyrics (в то время как его язык ласкал непристойные стихи = слова песни [k∂'res]). The women shrieked with glee (визжали от восторга) and the men shouted the last word of each stanza (строфы [‘stænz∂]) with the singer.

Don Corleone, notoriously (как всем было известно; notorious [n∂u'to:rı∂s] – известный, общеизвестный) straitlaced in such matters, («узко зашнурованный» = строгий в подобных вещах; lace – шнурок, тесьма; to lace – шнуровать), though his stout wife (дородная, полная) was screaming joyfully with the others, disappeared tactfully (тактично искрылся: «исчез») into the house. Seeing this, Sonny Corleone made his way (пробрался) to the bride's table and sat down beside young Lucy Mancini, the maid of honor. They were safe (они были в безопасности = дело было в шляпе, дело было верное). His wife was in the kitchen putting the last touches (последние штрихи) on the serving of the wedding cake. Sonny whispered (прошептал) a few words in the young girl's ear and she rose (поднялась, встала: to rise). Sonny waited a few minutes and then casually (как бы невзначай; casually [‘kæG(j)u:∂lı] – случайно, ненароком) followed her, stopping to talk with a guest here and there as he worked his way (пробирался, пробивался) through the crowd.

All eyes followed them. The maid of honor, thoroughly Americanized (полностью, совершенно, основательно американизированная; thoroughly ['θLr∂lı]) by three years of college, was a ripe girl (зрелой) who already had a "reputation." All through the marriage rehearsals she had flirted with Sonny Corleone in a teasing, joking way (дразнящим, игривым образом) she thought was permitted (который, как она полагала, был допустим; to permit [‘p∂:mıt] – позволять, разрешать) because he was the best man and her wedding partner. Now holding her pink gown up off the ground, Lucy Mancini went into the house, smiling with false innocence («с фальшивой невинностью» = с притворно-невинным выражением лица), ran lightly up the stairs to the bathroom. She stayed there for a few moments. When she came out Sonny Corleone was on the landing above (на верхней площадке), beckoning her upward (маня ее вверх, делая ей знак рукой, чтобы поднялась; to beckon [‘bek∂n] – манить, делать знак /рукой, пальцем/).

In the crowd of guests a dapper young man with the sleek head of a ferret was also studying the silk purse. From sheer habit Paulie Gatto wondered just how he could go about hijacking that fat pocketbook. The idea amused him. But he knew it was idle, innocent dreaming, as small children dream of knocking out tanks with popguns. He watched his boss, fat, middle-aged Peter Clemenza whirling young girls around the wooden dance floor in a rustic and lusty Tarantella. Clemenza, immensely tall, immensely huge, danced with such skill and abandon, his hard belly lecherously bumping the breasts of younger, tinier women, that all the guests were applauding him. Older women grabbed his arm to become his next partner. The younger men respectfully cleared off the floor and clapped their hands in time to the mandolin's wild strumming. When Clemenza finally collapsed in a chair, Paulie Gatto brought him a glass of icy black wine and wiped the perspiring Jovelike brow with his silk handkerchief. Clemenza was blowing like a whale as he gulped down the wine. But instead of thanking Paulie he said curtly, "Never mind being a dance judge, do your job. Take a walk around the neighborhood and see everything is OK." Paulie slid away into the crowd.

The band took a refreshment break. A young man named Nino Valenti picked up a discarded mandolin, put his left foot up on a chair and began to sing a coarse Sicilian love song. Nino Valenti's face was handsome though bloated by continual drinking and he was already a little drunk. He rolled his eyes as his tongue caressed the obscene lyrics. The women shrieked with glee and the men shouted the last word of each stanza with the singer.

Don Corleone, notoriously straitlaced in such matters, though his stout wife was screaming joyfully with the others, disappeared tactfully into the house. Seeing this, Sonny Corleone made his way to the bride's table and sat down beside young Lucy Mancini, the maid of honor. They were safe. His wife was in the kitchen putting the last touches on the serving of the wedding cake. Sonny whispered a few words in the young girl's ear and she rose. Sonny waited a few minutes and then casually followed her, stopping to talk with a guest here and there as he worked his way through the crowd.

All eyes followed them. The maid of honor, thoroughly Americanized by three years of college, was a ripe girl who already had a "reputation." All through the marriage rehearsals she had flirted with Sonny Corleone in a teasing, joking way she thought was permitted because he was the best man and her wedding partner. Now holding her pink gown up off the ground, Lucy Mancini went into the house, smiling with false innocence, ran lightly up the stairs to the bathroom. She stayed there for a few moments. When she came out Sonny Corleone was on the landing above, beckoning her upward.

From behind the closed window of Don Corleone's "office," a slightly raised corner room (cлегка приподнятой угловой комнаты), Thomas Hagen watched the wedding party in the festooned garden. The walls behind him were stacked with law books (были уставлены юридическими книгами; to stack – складывать в стог; stack – куча, груда; law – закон). Hagen was the Don's lawyer (адвокат) and acting consigliori (исполняющим обязанности консильори /советника – итал./), or counselor, and as such held the most vital subordinate position (и в качестве такового занимал наиболее важную: «жизненную» подчиненную должность) in the family business. He and the Don had solved many a knotty problem (разрешили немало запутанных проблем; knot – узел) in this room, and so when he saw the Godfather leave the festivities and enter the house, he knew, wedding or no (свадьба свадьбой, несмотря на свадьбу), there would be a little work this day. The Don would be coming to see him. Then Hagen saw Sonny Corleone whisper in Lucy Mancini's ear and their little comedy as he followed her into the house. Hagen grimaced (to grimace [grı'meıs]), debated whether to inform the Don (поразмыслил, сообщить ли), and decided against it. He went to the desk and picked up a handwritten list of the people who had been granted permission (которым было позволено: «предоставлено разрешение»; to grant – дарить, даровать; предоставлять) to see Don Corleone privately. When the Don entered the room, Hagen handed him the list. Don Corleone nodded (кивнул) and said, "Leave Bonasera to the end (оставь на конец, напоследок)."

Hagen used the French doors (застекленные створчатые двери) and went directly out into the garden to where the supplicants clustered (просители столпились; cluster – кисть, пучок, гроздь) around the barrel of wine. He pointed (указал пальцем) to the baker, the pudgy Nazorine.

Don Corleone greeted the baker with an embrace (приветствовал объятием). They had played together as children in Italy and had grown up in friendship. Every Easter (на каждую Пасху) freshly baked clotted-cheese (с расплавленным сыром; clot – комок, сгусток, свернувшийся) and wheat-germ (покрытые зернышками; wheat – пшеница; germ – зародыш; завязь) pies (пироги), their crusts (их корочки) yolk-gold (yolk [j∂uk] – желток яйца), big around as truck wheels (как колеса грузовика), arrived at Don Corleone's home. On Christmas, on family birthdays, rich creamy pastries (кондитерские изделия /пирожные, печенья/; pastry ['peıstrı]) proclaimed the Nazorines' respect. And all through the years, lean and fat (благополучные и неблагополучные: «тощие, скудные – и жирные, толстые»), Nazorine cheerfully (весело, бодро = не ропща) paid his dues (налоги, пошлины) to the bakery union (в союз пекарей) organized by the Don in his salad days (в пору юношеской неопытности). Never asking for a favor in return except for the chance to buy black-market OPA sugar coupons (правительственные карточки на сахар; OPA – Office of Price Administration) during the war. Now the time had come for the baker to claim his rights (заявить о своих правах) as a loyal friend, and Don Corleone looked forward with great pleasure (с большим удовольствием ожидал, собирался; to look forward – ожидать с нетерпением, предвкушать: «смотреть вперед») to granting his request (удовлетворить его просьбу).

He gave the baker a Di Nobili cigar and a glass of yellow Strega (итальянский лимонный ликер) and put his hand on the man's shoulder to urge him on (чтобы подбодрить его, побудить /изложить просьбу/; to urge – подгонять, подстегивать; побуждать, советовать). That was the mark (знак, метка) of the Don's humanity (человечности). He knew from bitter experience (по горькому опыту) what courage it took (сколько смелости требуется) to ask a favor from a fellow man (попросить ближнего об одолжении; fellow – приятель, коллега, напарник).

The baker told the story of his daughter and Enzo. A fine Italian lad (отличный парень) from Sicily; captured (взятый в плен) by the American Army; sent to the United States as a prisoner of war; given parole to help our war effort (усилие; достижение, успех ['ef∂t])! A pure and honorable love had sprung up between honest Enzo and his sheltered Katherine (невинной: «оберегаемой дома») Катериной; shelter – приют; to shelter – приютить, укрыть) but now that the war was ended the poor lad would be repatriated to Italy and Nazorine's daughter would surely die of a broken heart (наверняка, несомненно умрет от разбитого сердца). Only Godfather Corleone could help this afflicted couple (несчастной паре; to afflict [∂’flıkt] – беспокоить, причинять боль, огорчать). He was their last hope.

The Don walked Nazorine up and down the room, his hand on the baker's shoulder, his head nodding with understanding to keep up (чтобы поддержать) the man's courage. When the baker had finished, Don Corleone smiled at him and said, "My dear friend, put all your worries aside (вам не о чем волноваться: «отложите /в сторону/ все ваши беспокойства»)." He went on (продолжил) to explain very carefully (объяснять очень тщательно = детально) what must be done (что должно быть сделано). The Congressman of the district (округа ['dıstrıkt]) must be petitioned (к нему нужно обратиться с просьбой, ходатайством [pı’tı∫∂n]). The Congressman would propose a special bill (предложит особый законопроект [pr∂'p∂uz]) that would allow (позволит [∂’lau]) Enzo to become a citizen (стать гражданином). The bill would surely pass Congress (пройдет = будет принят). A privilege all those rascals extended to each other (которую эти мошенники оказывают друг другу; to extend [ıks’tend] – расширять, распространять влияние; оказывать протекцию, покровительство). Don Corleone explained that this would cost money, the going price (нынешняя, актуальная цена) was now two thousand dollars. He, Don Corleone, would guarantee performance (гарантирует исполнение [gær∂n’ti:] [p∂’fo:m∂ns]) and accept payment (готов принять плату [∂’ksept]). Did his friend agree (согласен [∂g'ri:])?

The baker nodded his head vigorously (сильно, энергично [‘vıg∂r∂slı]). He did not expect such a great favor for nothing. That was understood. A special Act of Congress does not come cheap. Nazorine was almost tearful (чуть не плакал; tearful – плачущий: «полный слез») in his thanks. Don Corleone walked him to the door, assuring him (заверив его; to assure [∂’∫u∂] – уверять) that competent people would be sent to the bakery to arrange all details, complete all necessary documents. The baker embraced him (обнял [ım'breıs]) before disappearing into the garden.

Hagen smiled at the Don. "That's a good investment (/капитало/вложение) for Nazorine. A son-in-law (зять) and a cheap lifetime helper (дешевый помощник на всю жизнь) in his bakery all for two thousand dollars." He paused. "Who do I give this job to?"

Don Corleone frowned (нахмурился, сморщил лоб) in thought. "Not to our paisan (не земляку = не сицилийцу /итал./). Give it to the Jew in the next district. Have the home addresses changed (поменяй, пусть поменяют). I think there might be many such cases (должно быть много таких дел, случаев) now the war is over; we should have extra people (дополнительных людей) in Washington that can handle the overflow (справиться с наплывом) and not raise the price (не поднимая цены)." Hagen made a note on his pad (в блокнот). "Not Congressman Luteco. Try (попробовать) Fischer."

From behind the closed window of Don Corleone's "office," a slightly raised corner room, Thomas Hagen watched the wedding party in the festooned garden. The walls behind him were stacked with law books. Hagen was the Don's lawyer and acting consigliori, or counselor, and as such held the most vital subordinate position in the family business. He and the Don had solved many a knotty problem in this room, and so when he saw the Godfather leave the festivities and enter the house, he knew, wedding or no, there would be a little work this day. The Don would be coming to see him. Then Hagen saw Sonny Corleone whisper in Lucy Mancini's ear and their little comedy as he followed her into the house. Hagen grimaced, debated whether to inform the Don, and decided against it. He went to the desk and picked up a handwritten list of the people who had been granted permission to see Don Corleone privately. When the Don entered the room, Hagen handed him the list. Don Corleone nodded and said, "Leave Bonasera to the end."

Hagen used the French doors and went directly out into the garden to where the supplicants clustered around the barrel of wine. He pointed to the baker, the pudgy Nazorine.

Don Corleone greeted the baker with an embrace. They had played together as children in Italy and had grown up in friendship. Every Easter freshly baked clotted-cheese and wheat-germ pies, their crusts yolk-gold, big around as truck wheels, arrived at Don Corleone's home. On Christmas, on family birthdays, rich creamy pastries proclaimed the Nazorines' respect. And all through the years, lean and fat, Nazorine cheerfully paid his dues to the bakery union organized by the Don in his salad days. Never asking for a favor in return except for the chance to buy black-market OPA sugar coupons during the war. Now the time had come for the baker to claim his rights as a loyal friend, and Don Corleone looked forward with great pleasure to granting his request.

He gave the baker a Di Nobili cigar and a glass of yellow Strega and put his hand on the man's shoulder to urge him on. That was the mark of the Don's humanity. He knew from bitter experience what courage it took to ask a favor from a fellow man.

The baker told the story of his daughter and Enzo. A fine Italian lad from Sicily; captured by the American Army; sent to the United States as a prisoner of war; given parole to help our war effort! A pure and honorable love had sprung up between honest Enzo and his sheltered Katherine but now that the war was ended the poor lad would be repatriated to Italy and Nazorine's daughter would surely die of a broken heart. Only Godfather Corleone could help this afflicted couple. He was their last hope.

The Don walked Nazorine up and down the room, his hand on the baker's shoulder, his head nodding with understanding to keep up the man's courage. When the baker had finished, Don Corleone smiled at him and said, "My dear friend, put all your worries aside." He went on to explain very carefully what must be done. The Congressman of the district must be petitioned. The Congressman would propose a special bill that would allow Enzo to become a citizen. The bill would surely pass Congress. A privilege all those rascals extended to each other. Don Corleone explained that this would cost money, the going price was now two thousand dollars. He, Don Corleone, would guarantee performance and accept payment. Did his friend agree?

The baker nodded his head vigorously. He did not expect such a great favor for nothing. That was understood. A special Act of Congress does not come cheap. Nazorine was almost tearful in his thanks. Don Corleone walked him to the door, assuring him that competent people would be sent to the bakery to arrange all details, complete all necessary documents. The baker embraced him before disappearing into the garden.

Hagen smiled at the Don. "That's a good investment for Nazorine. A son-in-law and a cheap lifetime helper in his bakery all for two thousand dollars." He paused. "Who do I give this job to?"

Don Corleone frowned in thought. "Not to our paisan. Give it to the Jew in the next district. Have the home addresses changed. I think there might be many such cases now the war is over; we should have extra people in Washington that can handle the overflow and not raise the price." Hagen made a note on his pad. "Not Congressman Luteco. Try Fischer."

The next man Hagen brought in was a very simple case. His name was Anthony Coppola and he was the son of a man Don Corleone had worked with in the railroad yards (на железнодорожных сортировочных станциях) in his youth. Coppola needed five hundred dollars to open a pizzeria; for a deposit (вклад; задаток; взнос) on fixtures (чтобы внести задаток за оборудование; fixture ['fıkst∫∂] – приспособление, прибор; движимое имущество в соединении с недвижимым) and the special oven (духовой шкаф, духовку [Lvn]). For reasons not gone into (по причинам, в которые не стоит углубляться), credit was not available (доступен, имеющийся в распоряжении [∂'veıl∂bl]). The Don reached into his pocket and took out a roll of bills (сверток купюр = груду скомканных купюр). It was not quite enough. He grimaced and said to Tom Hagen, "Loan me (одолжи) a hundred dollars, I'll pay you back Monday when I go to the bank." The supplicant protested that four hundred dollars would be ample (вполне достаточно; ample – богатый, изобильный), but Don Corleone patted his shoulder, saying, apologetically (извиняясь [æpol∂’dG∂tık∂lı]; apology [∂‘pol∂dGı] – извинение), "This fancy (причудливый, необычный, прихотливый, здесь: шикарный) wedding left me a little short of cash (оставила меня без наличных, немножко разорила меня)." He took the money Hagen extended to him and gave it to Anthony Coppola with his own roll of bills.

Hagen watched with quiet admiration (с тихим восхищением). The Don always taught that when a man was generous, he must show the generosity as personal (должен показывать, проявлять щедрость, великодушие «как личное, личностное» = направленно, конкретно). How flattering (лестно) to Anthony Coppola that a man like the Don would borrow (готов занять /деньги/) to loan him money. Not that Coppola did not know that the Don was a millionaire but how many millionaires let themselves be put to even a small inconvenience (позволят подвергнуть себя даже малейшему неудобству [ınk∂n'vi:nj∂ns]) by a poor friend?

The Don raised his head inquiringly (вопрошающе, вопросительно). Hagen said, "He's not on the list but Luca Brasi wants to see you. He understands it can't be public but he wants to congratulate you in person."

For the first time the Don seemed displeased (казался недовольным). The answer was devious (уклончивым; devious [‘di:vj∂s] – удаленный, окольный, отклоняющийся от прямого пути). "Is it necessary (необходимо ['nesıs∂rı])?" he asked.

Hagen shrugged. "You understand him better than I do. But he was very grateful (благодарен) that you invited him to the wedding. He never expected that. I think he wants to show his gratitude (благодарность [‘grætıtju:d])."

Don Corleone nodded and gestured (указал жестом [‘dGest∫∂]) that Luca Blasi should be brought to him (должен быть приведен к нему = чтобы привели).

The next man Hagen brought in was a very simple case. His name was Anthony Coppola and he was the son of a man Don Corleone had worked with in the railroad yards in his youth. Coppola needed five hundred dollars to open a pizzeria; for a deposit on fixtures and the special oven. For reasons not gone into, credit was not available. The Don reached into his pocket and took out a roll of bills. It was not quite enough. He grimaced and said to Tom Hagen, "Loan me a hundred dollars, I'll pay you back Monday when I go to the bank." The supplicant protested that four hundred dollars would be ample, but Don Corleone patted his shoulder, saying, apologetically, "This fancy wedding left me a little short of cash." He took the money Hagen extended to him and gave it to Anthony Coppola with his own roll of bills.

Hagen watched with quiet admiration. The Don always taught that when a man was generous, he must show the generosity as personal. How flattering to Anthony Coppola that a man like the Don would borrow to loan him money. Not that Coppola did not know that the Don was a millionaire but how many millionaires let themselves be put to even a small inconvenience by a poor friend?

The Don raised his head inquiringly. Hagen said, "He's not on the list but Luca Brasi wants to see you. He understands it can't be public but he wants to congratulate you in person."

For the first time the Don seemed displeased. The answer was devious. "Is it necessary?" he asked.

Hagen shrugged. "You understand him better than I do. But he was very grateful that you invited him to the wedding. He never expected that. I think he wants to show his gratitude."

Don Corleone nodded and gestured that Luca Blasi should be brought to him.

In the garden Kay Adams was struck (поражена, ей бросилось в глаза: to strike – бить) by the violent fury (неистовой яростью; violent [‘vaı∂l∂nt] – неистовый, яростный; сильный, интенсивный) imprinted («запечатленной») on the face of Luca Brasi. She asked about him. Michael had brought Kay to the wedding so that she would slowly (чтобы она медленно = постепенно) and perhaps without too much of a shoсk, absorb the truth (восприняла правду; to absorb [∂’bso:b] – впитывать, абсорбировать, поглощать) about his father. But so far she seemed to regard (но пока, до сих пор она, казалось, рассматривала) the Don as a slightly (слегка, немного) unethical businessman. Michael decided to tell her part of the truth indirectly (опосредствованно: «не прямо» = решил намекнуть). He explained that Luca Brasi was one of the most feared men (которых больше всего боятся) in the Eastern underworld (в преступном мире Восточного побережья). His great talent, it was said, was that he could do a job of murder (убийства) all by himself (совершенно один, самостоятельно), without confederates (без соучастников [k∂n'fed∂rıt]), which automatically made discovery (раскрытие) and conviction (осуждение, признание виновным [k∂n'vık∫∂n]) by the law almost impossible. Michael grimaced and said, "I don't know whether all that stuff is true (правда ли все это; stuff – материя, вещество; нечто, некие вещи). I do know he is sort of a friend (что-то вроде друга) to my father."

For the first time Kay began to understand. She asked a little incredulously (недоверчиво [ın’kredjul∂slı]), "You're not hinting (уж не намекаешь ли ты) that a man like that works for your father?"

The hell with it (черт со всем этим = была не была), he thought. He said, straight out (совершенно прямо, не таясь), "Nearly fifteen years ago some people wanted to take over (забрать, прибрать к рукам; to take over – перенять должность; принять во владение) my father's oil importing business (импорт оливкового масла). They tried to kill him and nearly did (чуть не убили, у них почти получилось). Luca Brasi went after them (занялся ими; to go after – преследовать). The story is (в общем, расказывают) that he killed six men in two weeks and that ended the famous (знаменитую ['feım∂s]) olive (['olıv]) oil war." He smiled as if it were a joke (словно это была шутка).

Kay shuddered. "You mean your father was shot by gangsters (в него стреляли; to shoot)?"

5 "Fifteen years ago," Michael said. "Everything's been peaceful (мирно = спокойно) since then." He was afraid he had gone too far.

6 "You're trying to scare me (пытаешься напугать меня)," Kay said. "You just don't want me to marry you." She smiled at him and poked his ribs (ткнула в ребра) with her elbow (локтем ['elb∂u]). "Very clever."

Michael smiled back at her. "I want you to think about it," he said.

"Did he really kill six men?" Kay asked.

"That's what the newspapers claimed (утверждали)," Mike said. "Nobody ever proved it (никогда никому не удалось это доказать; ever – когда-либо). But there's another story about him that nobody ever tells. It's supposed to be so terrible (предполагается, что она /история/ столь ужасна) that even my father won't talk about it. Tom Hagen knows the story and he won't tell me. Once I kidded him (я подшучивал, поддразнивал), I said, 'When will I be old enough to hear that story about Luca?' and Tom said, 'When you're a hundred.’ Michael sipped (отхлебнул; sip – маленький глоток) his glass of wine. "That must be some story (это, наверное, та еще история). That must be some Luca."

In the garden Kay Adams was struck by the violet fury imprinted on the face of Luca Brasi. She asked about him. Michael had brought Kay to the wedding so that she would slowly and perhaps without too much of a shoсk, absorb the truth about his father. But so far she seemed to regard the Don as a slightly unethical businessman. Michael decided to tell her part of the truth indirectly. He explained that Luca Brasi was one of the most feared men in the Eastern underworld. His great talent, it was said, was that he could do a job of murder all by himself, without confederates, which automatically made discovery and conviction by the law almost impossible. Michael grimaced and said, "I don't know whether all that stuff is true. I do know he is sort of a friend to my father."

For the first time Kay began to understand. She asked a little incredulously, "You're not hinting that a man like that works for your father?"

The hell with it, he thought. He said, straight out, "Nearly fifteen years ago some people wanted to take over my father's oil importing business. They tried to kill him and nearly did. Luca Brasi went after them. The story is that he killed six men in two weeks and that ended the famous olive oil war." He smiled as if it were a joke.

Kay shuddered. "You mean your father was shot by gangsters?"

"Fifteen years ago," Michael said. "Everything's been peaceful since then." He was afraid he had gone too far.

"You're trying to scare me," Kay said. "You just don't want me to marry you." She smiled at him and poked his ribs with her elbow. "Very clever."

Michael smiled back at her. "I want you to think about it," he said.

"Did he really kill six men?" Kay asked.

"That's what the newspapers claimed," Mike said. "Nobody ever proved it. But there's another story about him that nobody ever tells. It's supposed to be so terrible that even my father won't talk about it. Tom Hagen knows the story and he won't tell me. Once I kidded him, I said, 'When will I be old enough to hear that story about Luca?' and Tom said, 'When you're a hundred.’ Michael sipped his glass of wine. "That must be some story. That must be some Luca."

Luca Brasi was indeed a man to frighten the devil in hell himself (способный испугать самого дьявола в аду [devl]). Short, squat (коренастый: «короткий и толстый»; to squat – сидеть на корточках), massive-skulled (с массивным черепом: skull), his presence sent out alarm bells of danger (его присутстствие сигнализировало = распространяло ощущение опасности: alarm [∂’lα:m] – сигнал тревоги; alarm bell – набат, сигнальный звонок). His face was stamped into a mask of fury (на его лицо «была нанесена /вечная/ печать» гнева, ярости, на его лице была застывшая маска гнева). The eyes were brown but with none of the warmth of that color (но безо всякого тепла, свойственного этому цвету), more a deadly tan (скорее мертвенный желто-коричневый цвет). The mouth was not so much cruel as lifeless (не столько жестоким, сколько безжизненным); thin, rubbery (резиновым = словно резиновым) and the color of veal (телятины).

Brasi's reputation for violence (жестокости, насилия, применения силы) was awesome (устрашающей, необычайной: «вызывающей благоговение, почтительный страх»; awe [o:] – благоговейный страх, трепет) and his devotion (преданность) to Don Corleone legendary. He was, in himself, one of the great blocks that supported (поддерживали) the Don's power structure. His kind was a rarity (такие как он были большой редкостью: «его вид был редкостью»).

Luca Brasi did not fear the police, he did not fear society (общество [s∂’saı∂tı]), he did not fear God, he did not fear hell, he did not fear or love his fellow man. But he had elected (избрал), he had chosen, to fear and love Don Corleone. Ushered into the presence of the Don (приведенный к Дону; to usher – провожать, сопровождать; вводить; показывать места; usher – швейцар; капельдинер; билетер), the terrible Brasi held himself stiff (неподвижно, застывший) with respect. He stuttered over (пробормотал; to stutter – заикаться, запинаться) the flowery congratulations he offered (цветистые поздравления; to offer – предлагать; выдвигать; приносить /жертву/, возносить /молитвы/) and his formal hope that the first grandchild would be masculine (мужского пола ['ma:skjulın]). He then handed the Don an envelope stuffed with cash as a gift for the bridal couple.

So that was what he wanted to do. Hagen noticed the change in Don Corleone. The Don received Brasi as a king greets a subject (подобно тому, как король привествует подданного) who has done him an enormous service (огромную услугу [ı'no:m∂s]), never familiar but with regal respect (вовсе не фамильярно, но с королевским уважением, почетом ['ri:g∂l]). With every gesture, with every word, Don Corleone made it clear to Luca Brasi that he was valued (ценим). Not for one moment did he show surprise at the wedding gift being presented to him personally. He understood.

The money in the envelope was sure to be more than anyone else had given. Brasi had spent many hours deciding on the sum, comparing it to what the other guests might offer (сравнивая с тем, что могли бы предложить, преподнести другие гости). He wanted to be the most generous to show that he had the most respect, and that was why he had given his envelope to the Don personally, a gaucherie (неловкость, нарушение этикета [g∂u∫∂’ri:]; gauche [g∂u∫] – неловкий, неуклюжий, нескладный: «левый» /франц./) the Don overlooked (не стал обращать внимания, игнорировал) in his own flowery sentence of thanks. Hagen saw Luca Brasi's face lose its mask of fury (как утратило), swell with pride and pleasure (стало набухать от гордости и удовольствия). Brasi kissed the Don's hand before he went out the door that Hagen held open. Hagen prudently (предусмотрительно, благоразумно = на всякий случай) gave Brasi a friendly smile which the squat man acknowledged (признал = на которую ответил [∂k'nolıdG]) with a polite stretching (вежливым растягиванием) of rubbery, veal-colored lips.

Luca Brasi was indeed a man to frighten the devil in hell himself. Short, squat, massive-skulled, his presence sent out alarm bells of danger. His face was stamped into a mask of fury. The eyes were brown but with none of the warmth of that color, more a deadly tan. The mouth was not so much cruel as lifeless; thin, rubbery and the color of veal.

Brasi's reputation for violence was awesome and his devotion to Don Corleone legendary. He was, in himself, one of the great blocks that supported the Don's power structure. His kind was a rarity.

Luca Brasi did not fear the police, he did not fear society, he did not fear God, he did not fear hell, he did not fear or love his fellow man. But he had elected, he had chosen, to fear and love Don Corleone. Ushered into the presence of the Don, the terrible Brasi held himself stiff with respect. He stuttered over the flowery congratulations he offered and his formal hope that the first grandchild would be masculine. He then handed the Don an envelope stuffed with cash as a gift for the bridal couple.

So that was what he wanted to do. Hagen noticed the change in Don Corleone. The Don received Brasi as a king greets a subject who has done him an enormous service, never familiar but with regal respect. With every gesture, with every word, Don Corleone made it clear to Luca Brasi that he was valued. Not for one moment did he show surprise at the wedding gift being presented to him personally. He understood.

The money in the envelope was sure to be more than anyone else had given. Brasi had spent many hours deciding on the sum, comparing it to what the other guests might offer. He wanted to be the most generous to show that he had the most respect, and that was why he had given his envelope to the Don personally, a gaucherie the Don overlooked in his own flowery sentence of thanks. Hagen saw Luca Brasi's face lose its mask of fury, swell with pride and pleasure. Brasi kissed the Don's hand before he went out the door that Hagen held open. Hagen prudently gave Brasi a friendly smile which the squat man acknowledged with a polite stretching of rubbery, veal-colored lips.

When the door closed Don Corleone gave a small sigh of relief (вздох облегчения). Brasi was the only man in the world who could make him nervous. The man was like a natural force (словно некая природная = неконтролируемая человеком сила), not truly subject to control (в общем-то неподчиненная, неподлежащая контролю). He had to be handled as gingerly as dynamite (с ним следовало обращаться так же осторожно, предусмотрительно, как с динамитом [‘dGındG∂lı] [‘daın∂maıt]). The Don shrugged. Even dynamite could be exploded harmlessly (может быть взорван безопасно) if the need arose (если бы возникла необходимость). He looked questioningly at Hagen. "Is Bonasera the only one left?"

Hagen nodded. Don Corleone frowned in thought, then said, "Before you bring him in, tell Santino to come here. He should learn some things."

Out in the garden, Hagen searched anxiously (с беспокойством, озабоченно; anxious [‘æŋk∫∂s]) for Sonny Corleone. He told the waiting Bonasera to be patient (потерпеть; patient [‘peı∫∂nt] – терпеливый) and went over (подошел) to Michael Corleone and his girl friend. "Did you see Sonny around (здесь где-нибудь)?" he asked. Michael shook his head. Damn (проклятье; to damn – проклинать), Hagen thought, if Sonny was screwing the maid of honor all this time (трахал; to screw [skru:] – завинчивать) there was going to be a mess of trouble (будут большие неприятности; mess – беспорядок, путаница; неприятность). His wife, the young girl's family; it could be a disaster (бедствие, катастрофа [dı'zα:st∂]). Anxiously he hurried to the entrance (поспешил к входу) through which (через который) he had seen Sonny disappear almost a half hour ago.

Seeing Hagen go into the house, Kay Adams asked Michael Corleone, "Who is he? You introduced him as your brother but his name is different (отличающаяся, иная) and he certainly doesn't look Italian."

"Tom lived with us since he was twelve years old," Michael said. "His parents died and he was roaming around the streets (бродил, скитался) with this bad eye infection (с заражением глаза, с сильно зараженным глазом). Sonny brought him home one night and he just stayed (просто остался /жить с нами/). He didn't have any place to go. He lived with us until he got married."

Kay Adams was thrilled (взволнована, заинтригована; to thrill – вызывать трепет, сильно волновать). "That's really romantic," she said. "Your father must be a warmhearted person. To adopt (усыновить) somebody just like that when he had so many children of his own."

Michael didn't bother to point out (не стал указывать на то, не стал тратить силы на разъяснение того; to bother [‘boð∂] – беспокоиться, волноваться) that immigrant Italians considered (считали, рассматривали) four children a small family. He merely said (только лишь сказал), "Tom wasn't adopted. He just lived with us."

"Oh," Kay said, then asked curiously, "why didn't you adopt him?"

Michael laughed. "Because my father said it would be disrespectful (непочтительно) for Tom to change his name. Disrespectful to his own parents."

They saw Hagen shoo Sonny through the French door into the Don's office (to shoo – выгонять, выпроваживать; shoo – кыш; to shoo – вспугивать, прогонять /птиц/) and then crook a finger (скрючил, согнул палец = поманил пальцем; crook – крюк) at Amerigo Bonasera. "Why do they bother your father (беспокоят) with business on a day like this?" Kay asked.

Michael laughed again. "Because they know that by tradition (по традиции) no Sicilian can refuse a request (не может отказать просьбе) on his daughter's wedding day. And no Sicilian ever lets a chance like that go by (не упускает случая, возможности: «не дает шансу пройти мимо»)."

When the door closed Don Corleone gave a small sigh of relief. Brasi was the only man in the world who could make him nervous. The man was like a natural force, not truly subject to control. He had to be handled as gingerly as dynamite. The Don shrugged. Even dynamite could be exploded harmlessly if the need arose. He looked questioningly at Hagen. "Is Bonasera the only one left?"

Hagen nodded. Don Corleone frowned in thought, then said, "Before you bring him in, tell Santino to come here. He should learn some things."

Out in the garden, Hagen searched anxiously for Sonny Corleone. He told the waiting Bonasera to be patient and went over to Michael Corleone and his girl friend. "Did you see Sonny around?" he asked. Michael shook his head. Damn, Hagen thought, if Sonny was screwing the maid of honor all this time there was going to be a mess of trouble. His wife, the young girl's family; it could be a disaster. Anxiously he hurried to the entrance through which he had seen Sonny disappear almost a half hour ago.

Seeing Hagen go into the house, Kay Adams asked Michael Corleone, "Who is he? You introduced him as your brother but his name is different and he certainly doesn't look Italian."

"Tom lived with us since he was twelve years old," Michael said. "His parents died and he was roaming around the streets with this bad eye infection. Sonny brought him home one night and he just stayed. He didn't have any place to go. He lived with us until he got married."

Kay Adams was thrilled. "That's really romantic," she said. "Your father must be a warmhearted person. To adopt somebody just like that when he had so many children of his own."

Michael didn't bother to point out that immigrant Italians considered four children a small family. He merely said, "Tom wasn't adopted. He just lived with us."

"Oh," Kay said, then asked curiously, "why didn't you adopt him?"

Michael laughed. "Because my father said it would be disrespectful for Tom to change his name. Disrespectful to his own parents."

They saw Hagen shoo Sonny through the French door into the Don's office and then crook a finger at Amerigo Bonasera. "Why do they bother your father with business on a day like this?" Kay asked.

Michael laughed again. "Because they know that by tradition no Sicilian can refuse a request on his daughter's wedding day. And no Sicilian ever lets a chance like that go by."

Lucy Mancini lifted her pink gown off the floor (приподняла розовое платье с пола) and ran up the steps. Sonny Corleone's heavy Cupid face, redly obscene with winey lust («красно-непристойное от винной = пьяной похоти»), frightened her, but she had teased him for the past week to just this end (как раз к этому концу, завершению = чтобы этим именно все кончилось). In her two college love affairs (любовных связях; affair [∂’fe∂] – дело) she had felt nothing (ничего не почувствовала, не ощутила) and neither of them lasted more than a week (и ни одна из них не продолжилась больше недели). Quarreling (ссорясь, придираясь), her second lover had mumbled something (пробурчал) about her being "too big down there (о том, что она 'слишком велика там внизу’)." Lucy had understood and for the rest of the school term (и до конца учебы: «в оставшееся время учебы») had refused to go out on any dates (на свидания).

During the summer, preparing (готовясь; to prepare [prı'pe∂]) for the wedding of her best friend, Connie Corleone, Lucy heard the whispered stories about Sonny. One Sunday afternoon in the Corleone kitchen, Sonny's wife Sandra gossiped freely (сплетничала, болтала во всю, откровенно: «свободно»). Sandra was a coarse (грубая =простая [ko:s]), good-natured woman (добродушая) who had been born in Italy but brought to America as a small child. She was strongly built with great breasts and had already borne three children in five years of marriage. Sandra and the other women teased Connie about the terrors of the nuptial bed (дразнили ужасами брачного ложа ['nLp∫∂l]). "My God," Sandra had giggled (хихикнула), "when I saw that pole (кол, шест, жердь) of Sonny's for the first time and realized (осознала, поняла ['rı∂laız]) he was going to stick it (сунет) into me, I yelled bloody murder (заорала, как резаная: «завопила кровавое убийство = помогите»). After the first year my insides (внутренности) felt as mushy (мягкие, размятые; mush – густая каша из кукурузной муки) as macaroni boiled (варившиеся; to boil – кипеть) for an hour. When I heard he was doing the job on other girls I went to church and lit a candle (зажгла свечку; to light – зажигать)."

They had all laughed but Lucy had felt her flesh twitching (как подергивается плоть, ощутила судорогу; to twitch – подергивать, конвульсивно сокращаться) between her legs.

Now as she ran up the steps toward Sonny a tremendous flash of desire (мощная вспышка желания) went through her body. On the landing Sonny grabbed her hand and pulled her (потянул) down the hall into an empty bedroom. Her legs went weak (ослабли) as the door closed behind them. She felt Sonny's mouth on hers, his lips tasting of burnt tobacco (имеющие вкус жженого табака [t∂'bæk∂u]), bitter. She opened her mouth. At that moment she felt his hand come up beneath (как поднялась вверх под) her bridesmaid's gown, heard the rustle of material (шуршание, треск [rLsl]) giving way (поддающегося, уступающего), felt his large warm hand between her legs, ripping aside (разрывающую, рвущую в сторону) the satin panties (атласные трусики [‘sætın]) to caress (чтобы ласкать [k∂'res]) her vulva. She put her arms around his neck (вокруг его шеи) and hung there (висела там = так) as he opened his trousers (расстегивал брюки). Then he placed both hands beneath her bare buttocks (под ее обнаженные ягодицы) and lifted her. She gave a little hop in the air (чуть подскочила) so that both her legs were wrapped around his upper thighs (были обвиты вокруг его верхних бедер). His tongue was in her mouth and she sucked on it (сосала его /язык/). He gave a savage thrust (дикий, свирепый рывок [‘sævıdG]) that banged (стукнул) her head against the door. She felt something burning (что-то горящее, разгоряченное) pass between her thighs. She let her right hand drop from his neck (уронила руку) and reached down to guide him (и протянула ее вниз, чтобы направить, «вести» его). Her hand closed around (обхватила: «сомкнулась вокруг») an enormous, blood-gorged pole of muscle (огромного, налитого кровью мускульного жезла; gorge – горло, глотка; to gorge – глотать; есть досыта; наполнять /какой-нибудь орган или протоку в организме/, запруживать). It pulsated in her hand like an animal and almost weeping with grateful ecstasy she pointed it (направила) into her own wet, turgid flesh (набухшую плоть). The thrust of its entering, the unbelievable pleasure made her gasp (невероятное удовольствие заставило ее задохнуться: «дышать с трудом, ловить воздух»), brought her legs up almost around his neck, and then like a quiver (дрожь, трепет [‘kwıv∂]), her body received the savage arrows (стрелы [‘ær∂u]) of his lightning-like thrusts (его подобных молнии толчков); innumerable (бесчисленные), torturing (мучительные, как пытка; torture – пытка; to torture – пытать, мучить ['to:t∫∂]); arching her pelvis (выгибая таз) higher and higher until for the first time in her life she reached a shattering climax (она достигла полнейшего, мощнейшего оргазма; to shatter – разбить вдребезги), felt his hardness break (как сломалась = резко прекратилась его твердость) and then the crawly flood of semen (вызывающий мурашки поток семени; to crawl – ползти) over her thighs. Slowly her legs relaxed from around his body, slid down until they reached the floor. They leaned against each other (они прислонились, стояли, прислонившись друг к другу), out of breath («бездыханные»).

It might have been going on for some time (должно быть, это продолжалось некоторое время: «могло продолжаться») but now they could hear the soft knocking on the door (легкий стук). Sonny quickly buttoned his trousers (застегнул), meanwhile (в то же время) blocking the door so that it could not be opened. Lucy frantically (с испуганной поспешностью: «неистово, яростно») smoothed down (оустила: «разгладила вниз») her pink gown, her eyes flickering, but the thing that had given her so much pleasure was hidden inside sober black cloth (была спрятана, укрыта внутри темной ткани [kloθ]). Then they heard Tom Hagen's voice, very low, "Sonny, you in there?"

Sonny sighed with relief (с облегчением). He winked at Lucy (подмигнул). "Yeah, Tom, what is it (что случилось, в чем дело)?"

Hagen's voice, still low, said, "The Don wants you in his office. Now." They could hear his footsteps (шаги) as he walked away. Sonny waited for a few moments, gave Lucy a hard kiss on the lips, and then slipped out the door after Hagen.

Lucy combed her hair (причесала [k∂um]). She checked her dress (проверила /в порядке ли/) and pulled around her garter straps (подтянула подвязки; garter – подвязка; strap – ремешок, завязка). Her body felt bruised (помятым: to bruise [bru:z] – ушибать, ставить синяки), her lips pulpy (размягченные; pulp – мягкая масса) and tender (нежные = ранимые, болезненные). She went out the door and though she felt the sticky wetness (липкую влагу; to stick – приклеивать, липнуть) between her thighs she did not go to the bathroom to wash but ran straight on down the steps and into the garden. She took her seat (заняла место) at the bridal table next to Connie, who exclaimed petulantly (воскликнула нетерпеливо, раздражительно ['petjul∂ntlı]), "Lucy, where were you? You look drunk (выглядишь пьяной). Stay beside me now."

The blond groom poured Lucy a glass of wine (налил [po:]) and smiled knowingly (понимающе). Lucy didn't care (ей было наплевать: «не заботилась»). She lifted the grapey (виноградное; grape – виноград, гроздь винограда), dark red juice (темно-красное вино; juice [dGu:s] – сок; алкоголь) to her parched mouth (к пересохшему рту; to parch – иссушать, испепелять) and drank. She felt the sticky wetness between her thighs and pressed her legs together. Her body was trembling (дрожало). Over the glass rim (край, ободок), as she drank, her eyes searched hungrily (выискивали жадно) to find Sonny Corleone. There was no one else she cared to see. Slyly she whispered in Connie's ear, "Only a few hours more and you'll know what it's all about («о чем это все» = что это такое /заниматься любовью/)." Connie giggled. Lucy demurely (скромно, кротко = с притворной скромностью; demure [dı’mju∂] – скромный, сдержанный, рассудительный; притворно застенчивый) folded her hands (сложила) on the table, treacherously triumphant (предательски торжествующая ['tret∫∂r∂slı] [traı’Lmf∂nt]), as if she had stolen a treasure (как будто она украла сокровище ['treG∂]) from the bride.

Lucy Mancini lifted her pink gown off the floor and ran up the steps. Sonny Corleone's heavy Cupid face, redly obscene with winey lust, frightened her, but she had teased him for the past week to just this end. In her two college love affairs she had felt nothing and neither of them lasted more than a week. Quarreling, her second lover had mumbled something about her being "too big down there." Lucy had understood and for the rest of the school term had refused to go out on any dates.

During the summer, preparing for the wedding of her best friend, Connie Corleone, Lucy heard the whispered stories about Sonny. One Sunday afternoon in the Corleone kitchen, Sonny's wife Sandra gossiped freely. Sandra was a coarse, good-natured woman who had been born in Italy but brought to America as a small child. She was strongly built with great breasts and had already borne three children in five years of marriage. Sandra and the other women teased Connie about the terrors of the nuptial bed. "My God," Sandra had giggled, "when I saw that pole of Sonny's for the first time and realized he was going to stick it into me, I yelled bloody murder. After the first year my insides felt as mushy as macaroni boiled for an hour. When I heard he was doing the job on other girls I went to church and lit a candle."

They had all laughed but Lucy had felt her flesh twitching between her legs.

Now as she ran up the steps toward Sonny a tremendous flash of desire went through her body. On the landing Sonny grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall into an empty bedroom. Her legs went weak as the door closed behind them. She felt Sonny's mouth on hers, his lips tasting of burnt tobacco, bitter. She opened her mouth. At that moment she felt his hand come up beneath her bridesmaid's gown, heard the rustle of material giving way, felt his large warm hand between her legs, ripping aside the satin panties to caress her vulva. She put her arms around his neck and hung there as he opened his trousers. Then he placed both hands beneath her bare buttocks and lifted her. She gave a little hop in the air so that both her legs were wrapped around his upper thighs. His tongue was in her mouth and she sucked on it. He gave a savage thrust that banged her head against the door. She felt something burning pass between her thighs. She let her right hand drop from his neck and reached down to guide him. Her hand closed around an enormous, blood-gorged pole of muscle. It pulsated in her hand like an animal and almost weeping with grateful ecstasy she pointed it into her own wet, turgid flesh. The thrust of its entering, the unbelievable pleasure made her gasp, brought her legs up almost around his neck, and then like a quiver, her body received the savage arrows of his lightning-like thrusts; innumerable, torturing; arching her pelvis higher and higher until for the first time in her life she reached a shattering climax, felt his hardness break and then the crawly flood of semen over her thighs. Slowly her legs relaxed from around his body, slid down until they reached the floor. They leaned against each other, out of breath.

It might have been going on for some time but now they could hear the soft knocking on the door. Sonny quickly buttoned his trousers, meanwhile blocking the door so that it could not be opened. Lucy frantically smoothed down her pink gown, her eyes flickering, but the thing that had given her so much pleasure was hidden inside sober black cloth. Then they heard Tom Hagen's voice, very low, "Sonny, you in there?"

Sonny sighed with relief. He winked at Lucy. "Yeah, Tom, what is it?"

Hagen's voice, still low, said, "The Don wants you in his office. Now." They could hear his footsteps as he walked away. Sonny waited for a few moments, gave Lucy a hard kiss on the lips, and then slipped out the door after Hagen.

Lucy combed her hair. She checked her dress and pulled around her garter straps. Her body felt bruised, her lips pulpy and tender. She went out the door and though she felt the sticky wetness between her thighs she did not go to the bathroom to wash but ran straight on down the steps and into the garden. She took her seat at the bridal table next to Connie, who exclaimed petulantly, "Lucy, where were you? You look drunk. Stay beside me now."

The blond groom poured Lucy a glass of wine and smiled knowingly. Lucy didn't care. She lifted the grapey, dark red juice to her parched mouth and drank. She felt the sticky wetness between her thighs and pressed her legs together. Her body was trembling. Over the glass rim, as she drank, her eyes searched hungrily to find Sonny Corleone. There was no one else she cared to see. Slyly she whispered in Connie's ear, "Only a few hours more and you'll know what it's all about." Connie giggled. Lucy demurely folded her hands on the table, treacherously triumphant, as if she had stolen a treasure from the bride.

Amerigo Bonasera followed Hagen into the corner room of the house and found Don Corleone sitting behind a huge desk (сидящим за огромным письменным столом). Sonny Corleone was standing by the window, looking out into the garden. For the first time that afternoon the Don behaved coolly (вел себя холодно: «прохладно»). He did not embrace the visitor or shake hands. The sallow-faced undertaker (предприниматель с желтоватым, землистым лицом) owed his invitation (был обязан приглашением; to owe [∂u] – владеть, обладать /устар./; быть обязанным чему-либо) to the fact that his wife and the wife of the Don were the closest of friends (самые близкие подруги). Amerigo Bonasera himself was in severe disfavor with Don Corleone (был крайне нелюбим Доном: «был в суровом = очень сильном нерасположении»; severe [sı'vı∂]).

Bonasera began his request obliquely (издалека; oblique [∂’bli:k] – косой, покатый, наклонный) and cleverly. "You must excuse my daughter, your wife's goddaughter (крестницу), for not doing your family the respect of coming today. She is in the hospital still." He glanced at Sonny Corleone and Tom Hagen to indicate (чтобы указать = дать понять) that he did not wish to speak before them. But the Don was merciless (беспощаден).

"We all know of your daughter's misfortune (о несчастьи)," Don Corleone said. "If I can help her in any way, you have only to speak. My wife is her godmother after all (в конце концов). I have never forgotten that honor." This was a rebuke (укор, упрек [rı'bju:k]). The undertaker never called Don Corleone "Godfather" as custom dictated (как требовал обычай [‘kLst∂m]).

Bonasera, ashen-faced (с лицом пепельного цвета; ash – пепел), asked, directly now, "May I speak to you alone?"

Don Corleone shook his head. "I trust these two men with my life (доверяю им мою жизнь, полностью им доверяю). They are my two right arms. I cannot insult them (оскорбить [ın’sLlt]) by sending them away (отослав их прочь)."

The undertaker closed his eyes for a moment and then began to speak. His voice was quiet, the voice he used to console the bereaved (которым он имел обыкновение утешать, обычно утешал пострадавших: to bereave – лишать, отнимать, отбирать; to console [k∂n’s∂ul] – утешать). "I raised my daughter in the American fashion (вырастил по-американски: «в американской манере»). I believe in America. America has made my fortune. I gave my daughter her freedom and yet taught her never to dishonor her family. She found a 'boy friend,' not an Italian. She went to the movies with him. She stayed out late (приходила поздно: «оставалась, находилась вне дома допоздна»). But he never came to meet her parents. I accepted all this (принимал, соглашался [∂k’sept]) without a protest, the fault is mine (сам виноват; fault [fo:lt] – ошибка, недочет; недостаток). Two months ago he took her for a drive (взял прокатиться, на прогулку). He had a masculine friend with him. They made her drink whiskey and then they tried to take advantage of her (овладеть ей; advantage [∂d’wα:ntıdG] – преимущество; выгода, польза). She resisted (сопротивлялась). She kept her honor. They beat her (били). Like an animal. When I went to the hospital she had two black eyes. Her nose was broken. Her jaw was shattered. They had to wire it together. She wept through her pain. 'Father, Father, why did they do it? Why did they do this to me?' And I wept (плакал)." Bonasera could not speak further (далее), he was weeping now though his voice had not betrayed his emotion (не выдал).

Don Corleone, as if against his will (как будто против своей воли, невольно), made a gesture of sympathy and Bonasera went on, his voice human with suffering (исполненый чувства: «человечный» от страдания). "Why did I weep? She was the light of my life, an affectionate daughter (любящая, нежная [∂'fek∫nıt]). A beautiful girl. She trusted people and now she will never trust them again. She will never be beautiful again." He was trembling, his sallow face flushed an ugly dark red (лицо приняло уродливый темный оттенок от внезапного прилива крови; to flush – хлынуть, переполнить; прилить /о крови/).

"I went to the police like a good American. The two boys were arrested. They were brought to trial (их судили: «они были приведены к суду»; trial – испытание, проба; судебное разбирательство). The evidence was overwhelming (доказательства были неопровержимы; evidence ['evıd∂ns] – ясность, очевидность; to overwhelm – переворачивать кверх ногами /устар./; подавлять сокрушать) and they pleaded guilty (признали себя виновными; to plead – выступать в суде с заявлением, отвечать на обвинение; защищать на суде подсудимого). The judge sentenced them (приговорил) to three years in prison and suspended the sentence. They went free that very day (в тот же самый день). I stood in the courtroom like a fool and those bastards (выродки) smiled at me. And then I said to my wife: 'We must go to Don Corleone for justice (за справедливостью ['dGLstıs]).' "

The Don had bowed his head to show respect for the man's grief (перед горем, бедствием). But when he spoke, the words were cold with offended dignity (от оскорбленного достоинства). "Why did you go to the police? Why didn't you come to me at the beginning of this affair?"

Bonasera muttered almost inaudibly (едва слышно: «почти неслышно» inaudible [ın'o:d∂bl] – невнятный, неотчетливый), "What do you want of me? Tell me what you wish. But do what I beg you to do (что я прошу вас сделать)." There was something almost insolent (дерзкое ['ıns∂l∂nt]) in his words.

Don Corleone said gravely (серьезно, строго), "And what is that?"

Bonasera glanced at Hagen and Sonny Corleone and shook his head. The Don, still sitting at Hagen's desk, inclined his body (склонил, наклонил) toward the undertaker. Bonasera hesitated (немного поколебался, помедлил [‘hezıteıt]), then bent down and put his lips so close to the Don's hairy ear that they touched. Don Corleone listened like a priest in the confessional (как священник на исповеди: «в исповедальне» [k∂n'fe∫∂nl]), gazing away into the distance (глядя вдаль; to gaze – пристально глядеть, уставиться), impassive (равнодушно: «бесчувственно»), remote (отстраненно; remote – отдаленный). They stood so for a long moment until Bonasera finished whispering (шептать, шептание) and straightened to his full height (выпрямился в полный рост). The Don looked up gravely at Bonasera. Bonasera, his face flushed, returned the stare unflinchingly (не отвел взгляда: «вернул его пристальный взгляд неотступно, не дрогнув»; to flinch – дрогнуть, отступить; stare – пристальный взгляд /широко открытыми глазами/).

Finally the Don spoke. "That I cannot do. You are being carried away (требуете слишком многого: «вас уносит прочь = заносит»)."

Bonasera said loudly, clearly, "I will pay you anything you ask." On hearing this, Hagen flinched, a nervous flick of his head (резкое движение, рывок). Sonny Corleone folded his arms, smiled sardonically as he turned from the window to watch the scene in the room for the first time.

Amerigo Bonasera followed Hagen into the corner room of the house and found Don Corleone sitting behind a huge desk. Sonny Corleone was standing by the window, looking out into the garden. For the first time that afternoon the Don behaved coolly. He did not embrace the visitor or shake hands. The sallow-faced undertaker owed his invitation to the fact that his wife and the wife of the Don were the closest of friends. Amerigo Bonasera himself was in severe disfavor with Don Corleone.

Bonasera began his request obliquely and cleverly. "You must excuse my daughter, your wife's goddaughter, for not doing your family the respect of coming today. She is in the hospital still." He glanced at Sonny Corleone and Tom Hagen to indicate that he did not wish to speak before them. But the Don was merciless.

"We all know of your daughter's misfortune," Don Corleone said. "If I can help her in any way, you have only to speak. My wife is her godmother after all. I have never forgotten that honor." This was a rebuke. The undertaker never called Don Corleone "Godfather" as custom dictated.

Bonasera, ashen-faced, asked, directly now, "May I speak to you alone?"

Don Corleone shook his head. "I trust these two men with my life. They are my two right arms. I cannot insult them by sending them away."

The undertaker closed his eyes for a moment and then began to speak. His voice was quiet, the voice he used to console the bereaved. "I raised my daughter in the American fashion. I believe in America. America has made my fortune. I gave my daughter her freedom and yet taught her never to dishonor her family. She found a 'boy friend,' not an Italian. She went to the movies with him. She stayed out late. But he never came to meet her parents. I accepted all this without a protest, the fault is mine. Two months ago he took her for a drive. He had a masculine friend with him. They made her drink whiskey and then they tried to take advantage of her. She resisted. She kept her honor. They beat her. Like an animal. When I went to the hospital she had two black eyes. Her nose was broken. Her jaw was shattered. They had to wire it together. She wept through her pain. 'Father, Father, why did they do it? Why did they do this to me?' And I wept." Bonasera could not speak further, he was weeping now though his voice had not betrayed his emotion.

Don Corleone, as if against his will, made a gesture of sympathy and Bonasera went on, his voice human with suffering. "Why did I weep? She was the light of my life, an affectionate daughter. A beautiful girl. She trusted people and now she will never trust them again. She will never be beautiful again." He was trembling, his sallow face flushed an ugly dark red.

"I went to the police like a good American. The two boys were arrested. They were brought to trial. The evidence was overwhelming and they pleaded guilty. The judge sentenced them to three years in prison and suspended the sentence. They went free that very day. I stood in the courtroom like a fool and those bastards smiled at me. And then I said to my wife: 'We must go to Don Corleone for justice.' "

The Don had bowed his head to show respect for the man's grief. But when he spoke, the words were cold with offended dignity. "Why did you go to the police? Why didn't you come to me at the beginning of this affair?"

Bonasera muttered almost inaudibly, "What do you want of me? Tell me what you wish. But do what I beg you to do." There was something almost insolent in his words.

Don Corleone said gravely, "And what is that?"

Bonasera glanced at Hagen and Sonny Corleone and shook his head. The Don, still sitting at Hagen's desk, inclined his body toward the undertaker. Bonasera hesitated, then bent down and put his lips so close to the Don's hairy ear that they touched. Don Corleone listened like a priest in the confessional, gazing away into the distance, impassive, remote. They stood so for a long moment until Bonasera finished whispering and straightened to his full height. The Don looked up gravely at Bonasera. Bonasera, his face flushed, returned the stare unflinchingly.

Finally the Don spoke. "That I cannot do. You are being carried away."

Bonasera said loudly, clearly, "I will pay you anything you ask." On hearing this, Hagen flinched, a nervous flick of his head. Sonny Corleone folded his arms, smiled sardonically as he turned from the window to watch the scene in the room for the first time.

Don Corleone rose from behind the desk. His face was still impassive but his voice rang like cold death (но в его голосе звучал смертельный холод: «его голос звучал, как холодная смерть»; to ring – звенеть, звучать). "We have known each other many years, you and I," he said to the undertaker, "but until this day you never came to me for counsel (за советом [kauns∂l]) or help. I can't remember the last time you invited me to your house for coffee though my wife is godmother to your only child. Let us be frank (будем откровенны). You spurned my friendship (отвергли с презрением, отнеслись презрительно). You feared to be in my debt (боялись оказаться в долгу [det])."

Bonasera murmured (пробормотал), "I didn't want to get into trouble (не хотел неприятностей /с законом/: «попасть в беду, в неприятное положение»)."

The Don held up his hand. "No. Don't speak. You found America a paradise (думали, что это рай [‘pær∂daıs]). You had a good trade, you made a good living (хорошо зарабатывали), you thought the world a harmless place (безобидное = безопасное место) where you could take your pleasure as you willed (как вам будет угодно). You never armed yourself with true friends. After all, the police guarded you (охраняла; to guard [gα:d]), there were courts of law, you and yours could come to no harm (вы и ваши /близкие/ не могут пострадать; harm – вред, убыток, ущерб). You did not need Don Corleone. Very well. My feelings were wounded (чувства были ранены = оскорблены) but I am not that sort of person who thrusts his friendship on those who do not value it (кто навязывает: «набрасывает» свою дружбу на тех, что не ценит ее [‘vælju:]) – on those who think me of little account (кто считает, что я мало что значу; account [∂’kaunt] – счет; важность, значение)." The Don paused and gave the undertaker a polite, ironic smile. "Now you come to me and say, 'Don Corleone give me justice.' And you do not ask with respect. You do not offer me your friendship. You come into my home on the bridal day of my daughter and you ask me to do murder (убийство) and you say" – here the Don's voice became a scornful mimicry (презрительное, насмешливое передразнивание; scorn – презрение, пренебрежение) – " 'I will pay you anything'. No, no, I am not offended (не оскорблен), but what have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully (но что я такого /когда-либо/ сделал, чтобы вы со мной обращались столь непочтительно)?"

Bonasera cried out in his anguish (выкрикнул в муке, тоске, с болью [‘æŋwı∫]) and his fear, "America has been good to me. I wanted to be a good citizen. I wanted my child to be American."

The Don clapped his hands together with decisive approval (хлопнул в ладони с решительным, уверенным одобрением; decisive [dı'saısıv] – решающий, решенный, окончательный; approval [∂p'ru:v∂l]; to decide – решать, принимать решение; to approve – одобрять). "Well spoken (хорошо сказано). Very fine. Then you have nothing to complain about (тогда вам не на что жаловаться). The judge has ruled (вынес решение; to rule – управлять; устанавливать порядок). America has ruled. Bring your daughter flowers and a box of candy (коробку леденцов) when you go visit her in the hospital. That will comfort her (утешит, успокоит ['kLmf∂t]). Be content. After all, this is not a serious affair, the boys were young, high-spirited (горячие, пылкие, резвые), and one of them is the son of a powerful politician. No, my dear Amerigo, you have always been honest. I must admit, though you spurned my friendship, that I would trust the given word of Amerigo Bonasera more than I would any other man's. So give me your word that you will put aside this madness (что вы оставите: «отложите в сторону» это безумие = эту безумную затею). It is not American. Forgive (простите). Forget (забудьте). Life is full of misfortunes (жизнь полна бед, неприятностей)."

The cruel and contemptuous irony (жестокая и презрительная ирония [k∂n’temptju∂s] [‘a∂r∂nı]) with which all this was said, the controlled anger of the Don, reduced the poor undertaker to a quivering jelly (превратили в: «сократили» до дрожащего желе) but he spoke up bravely again. "I ask you for justice."

Don Corleone said curtly, "The court gave you justice."

Bonasera shook his head stubbornly. "No. They gave the youths justice. They did not give me justice."

The Don acknowledged this fine distinction (признал это тонкое разграничение) with an approving nod (одобрительным кивком), then asked, "What is your justice?"

"An eye for an eye," Bonasera said.

"You asked for more," the Don said. "Your daughter is alive."

Bonasera said reluctantly (неохотно, с неохотой), "Let them suffer (пусть они будут страдать, пострадают) as she suffers." The Don waited for him to speak further. Bonasera screwed up the last of his courage (собрал: «подвинтил» всю свою оставшуюся смелость) and said, "How much shall I pay you?" It was a despairing wail (отчаянный вопль; wail – продолжительный скорбный крик, плач; to dispair [dıs’pe∂r] – отчаиваться).

Don Corleone turned his back. It was a dismissal (это был отказ: «знак, что аудиенция окончена»; to dismiss – отпускать, позволять уйти; увольнять). Bonasera did not budge (не шевельнулся, не двинулся /с места/). Finally, sighing, a good-hearted man who cannot remain angry with an erring friend (не может долго сердиться на заблуждающегося друга; to err – заблуждаться, ошибаться), Don Corleone turned back to the undertaker, who was now as pale as one of his corpses (такой же бледный, как любой из его трупов [ko:ps]). Don Corleone was gentle (мягкий, добрый: «благородный, ведущий себя, как подобает джентельмену»), patient (терпеливый ['peı∫∂nt]). "Why do you fear to give your first allegiance to me (лояльность, преданность; вассальная зависимость [∂'li:dG∂ns])?" he said. "You go to the law courts and wait for months. You spend money on lawyers who know full well (прекрасно понимают) you are to be made a fool of (что вас можно дурачить). You accept judgment from a judge who sells himself like the worst whore in the streets (как худшая шлюха). Years gone by (в минувшие годы), when you needed money, you went to the banks and paid ruinous interest (разорительные проценты), waited hat in hand like a beggar (как нищий) while they sniffed around (разнюхивали; to sniff – вдыхать через нос; обнюхивать), poked their noses up your very asshole (в самую задницу) to make sure (чтобы убедиться) you could pay them back." The Don paused, his voice became sterner (строже, суровее).

"But if you had come to me, my purse would have been yours. If you had come to me for justice those scum (подонки: «пена, накипь; отбросы») who ruined your daughter would be weeping bitter tears this day. If by some misfortune an honest man like yourself made enemies they would become my enemies" – the Don raised his arm, finger pointing at Bonasera – "and then, believe me, they would fear you."

Bonasera bowed his head and murmured in a strangled voice (сдавленным голосом; to strangle – задушить, удавить), "Be my friend. I accept (cогласен: «принимаю» [∂k’sept])."

Don Corleone put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Good," he said, "you shall have your justice. Some day, and that day may never come, I will call upon you to do me a service in return. Until that day, consider this justice a gift from my wife (рассматривайте как подарок), your daughter's godmother."

When the door closed behind the grateful undertaker, Don Corleone turned to Hagen and said, "Give this affair to Clemenza and tell him to be sure to use reliable people (надежных; to rely [rı’laı] – полагаться, быть уверенным /в ком-либо/), people who will not be carried away by the smell of blood (которых не увлечет, не заставит преступить границы запах крови). After all, we're not murderers, no matter what that corpse valet dreams up in his foolish head (неважно, что там грезится = что бы там ни грезилось этому служителю трупов в его дурной голове; valet ['vælıt] – камердинер, лакей, слуга)." He noted that his first-born, masculine son was gazing through the window at the garden party. It was hopeless, Don Corleone thought. If he refused to be instructed, Santino could never run the family business, could never become a Don. He would have to find somebody else. And soon. After all, he was not immortal (не бессмертен).

From the garden, startling all three men (заставив вздрогнуть /от неожиданности/; to startle – испугать, поразить; вздрагивать, бросаться в сторону /о лошади/), there came a happy roaring shout (радостные крики: «радостно ревущий крик»; to roar [ro:] – реветь, орать, рычать). Sonny Corleone pressed close to the window. What he saw made him move quickly toward the door, a delighted smile on his face (довольная улыбка; delight [dı’laıt] – удовольствие). "It's Johnny, he came to the wedding, what did I tell you?" Hagen moved to the window. "It's really your godson (крестник)," he said to Don Corleone. "Shall I bring him here?"

"No," the Don said. "Let the people enjoy him (пускай люди ему порадуются, получат удовольствие от общения с ним). Let him come to me when he is ready." He smiled at Hagen. "You see? He is a good godson."

Hagen felt a twinge of jealousy (укол ревности; twinge – приступ боли; jealousy [‘dGel∂sı]). He said dryly (сухо), "It's been two years. He's probably in trouble again and wants you to help."

"And who should he come to if not his godfather?" asked Don Corleone.

Don Corleone rose from behind the desk. His face was still impassive but his voice rang like cold death. "We have known each other many years, you and I," he said to the undertaker, "but until this day you never came to me for counsel or help. I can't remember the last time you invited me to your house for coffee though my wife is godmother to your only child. Let us be frank. You spurned my friendship. You feared to be in my debt."

Bonasera murmured, "I didn't want to get into trouble."

The Don held up his hand. "No. Don't speak. You found America a paradise. You had a good trade, you made a good living, you thought the world a harmless place where you could take your pleasure as you willed. You never armed yourself with true friends. After all, the police guarded you, there were courts of law, you and yours could come to no harm. You did not need Don Corleone. Very well. My feelings were wounded but I am not that sort of person who thrusts his friendship on those who do not value it – on those who think me of little account." The Don paused and gave the undertaker a polite, ironic smile. "Now you come to me and say, 'Don Corleone give me justice.' And you do not ask with respect. You do not offer me your friendship. You come into my home on the bridal day of my daughter and you ask me to do murder and you say" – here the Don's voice became a scornful mimicry – " 'I will pay you anything'. No, no, I am not offended, but what have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully?"

Bonasera cried out in his anguish and his fear, "America has been good to me. I wanted to be a good citizen. I wanted my child to be American."

The Don clapped his hands together with decisive approval. "Well spoken. Very fine. Then you have nothing to complain about. The judge has ruled. America has ruled. Bring your daughter flowers and a box of candy when you go visit her in the hospital. That will comfort her. Be content. After all, this is not a serious affair, the boys were young, high-spirited, and one of them is the son of a powerful politician. No, my dear Amerigo, you have always been honest. I must admit, though you spurned my friendship, that I would trust the given word of Amerigo Bonasera more than I would any other man's. So give me your word that you will put aside this madness. It is not American. Forgive. Forget. Life is full of misfortunes."

The cruel and contemptuous irony with which all this was said, the controlled anger of the Don, reduced the poor undertaker to a quivering jelly but he spoke up bravely again. "I ask you for justice."

Don Corleone said curtly, "The court gave you justice."

Bonasera shook his head stubbornly. "No. They gave the youths justice. They did not give me justice."

The Don acknowledged this fine distinction with an approving nod, then asked, "What is your justice?"

"An eye for an eye," Bonasera said.

"You asked for more," the Don said. "Your daughter is alive."

Bonasera said reluctantly, "Let them suffer as she suffers." The Don waited for him to speak further. Bonasera screwed up the last of his courage and said, "How much shall I pay you?" It was a despairing wail.

Don Corleone turned his back. It was a dismissal. Bonasera did not budge. Finally, sighing, a good-hearted man who cannot remain angry with an erring friend, Don Corleone turned back to the undertaker, who was now as pale as one of his corpses. Don Corleone was gentle, patient. "Why do you fear to give your first allegiance to me?" he said. "You go to the law courts and wait for months. You spend money on lawyers who know full well you are to be made a fool of. You accept judgment from a judge who sells himself like the worst whore in the streets. Years gone by, when you needed money, you went to the banks and paid ruinous interest, waited hat in hand like a beggar while they sniffed around, poked their noses up your very asshole to make sure you could pay them back." The Don paused, his voice became sterner.

"But if you had come to me, my purse would have been yours. If you had come to me for justice those scum who ruined your daughter would be weeping bitter tears this day. If by some misfortune an honest man like yourself made enemies they would become my enemies" – the Don raised his arm, finger pointing at Bonasera – "and then, believe me, they would fear you."

Bonasera bowed his head and murmured in a strangled voice, "Be my friend. I accept."

Don Corleone put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Good," he said, "you shall have your justice. Some day, and that day may never come, I will call upon you to do me a service in return. Until that day, consider this justice a gift from my wife, your daughter's godmother."

When the door closed behind the grateful undertaker, Don Corleone turned to Hagen and said, "Give this affair to Clemenza and tell him to be sure to use reliable people, people who will not be carried away by the smell of blood. After all, we're not murderers, no matter what that corpse valet dreams up in his foolish head." He noted that his first-born, masculine son was gazing through the window at the garden party. It was hopeless, Don Corleone thought. If he refused to be instructed, Santino could never run the family business, could never become a Don. He would have to find somebody else. And soon. After all, he was not immortal.

From the garden, startling all three men, there came a happy roaring shout. Sonny Corleone pressed close to the window. What he saw made him move quickly toward the door, a delighted smile on his face. "It's Johnny, he came to the wedding, what did I tell you?" Hagen moved to the window. "It's really your godson," he said to Don Corleone. "Shall I bring him here?"

"No," the Don said. "Let the people enjoy him. Let him come to me when he is ready." He smiled at Hagen. "You see? He is a good godson."

Hagen felt a twinge of jealousy. He said dryly, "It's been two years. He's probably in trouble again and wants you to help."

"And who should he come to if not his godfather?" asked Don Corleone.

The first one to see Johnny Fontane enter the garden was Connie Corleone. She forgot her bridal dignity (достоинство, важность) and screamed, "Johneee." Then she ran into his arms. He hugged her tight (крепко обнял ее; to hug – крепко обнимать, сжимать в объятиях) and kissed her on the mouth, kept his arm around her as others came up to greet him. They were all his old friends, people he had grown up with on the West Side. Then Connie was dragging him (тащила = тянула) to her new husband. Johnny saw with amusement that the blond young man looked a little sour (выглядел кислым = мрачным, угрюмым [sau∂]) at no longer being the star of the day (из-за того, что он больше не центр внимания, что перестал быть центром внимания, гвоздем программы). He turned on all his charm («включил» весь свой шарм), shaking the groom's hand, toasting him with a glass of wine.

A familiar voice called from the bandstand, "How about giving us a song, Johnny?" He looked up and saw Nino Valenti smiling down at him. Johnny Fontane jumped up on the bandstand (запрыгнул на сцену) and threw his arms around Nino. They had been inseparable (неразлучны: «неразлучимы» [ın'sep∂r∂bl]), singing together, going out with girls together, until Johnny had started to become famous and sing on the radio. When he had gone to Hollywood to make movies Johnny had phoned Nino a couple of times just to talk and had promised to get him a club singing date (прослушивание). But he had never done so. Seeing Nino now, his cheerful (радостную, веселую, неунывающую [t∫ı∂ful]; to cheer – cоздавать хорошее настроение, подбадривать; приветствовать громкими возгласами), mocking (насмешливую), drunken grin (пьяную улыбку, усмешку), all the affection returned (вся привязанность, все теплые чувства вернулись).

Nino began strumming on the mandolin (бренчать, тренькать). Johnny Fontane put his hand on Nino's shoulder. "This is for the bride," he said, and stamping his foot (топая, притаптывая), chanted the words (пропел слова) to an obscene Sicilian love song. As he sang, Nino made suggestive motions with his body (непристойные движения; suggestive [s∂’dGestıv] – внушающий какие-либо мысли; намекающий на что-либо непристойное; to suggest – предлагать, советовать; вызывать, намекать). The bride blushed proudly (покраснела гордо), the throng of guests (толпа) roared its approval. Before the song ended they were all stamping with their feet and roaring out the sly, double-meaning tag line (выкрикивая лукавую заключительную реплику с двойственным смыслом) that finished each stanza (куплет, строфу). At the end they would not stop applauding until Johnny cleared his throat (прочистил горло) to sing another song.

They were all proud of him. He was of them and he had become a famous singer, a movie star who slept with the most desired women in the world. And yet he had shown proper respect for his Godfather by traveling three thousand miles to attend this wedding. He still loved old friends like Nino Valenti. Many of the people there had seen Johnny and Nino singing together when they were just boys, when no one dreamed that Johnny Fontane would grow up to hold the hearts of fifty million women in his hands.

Johnny Fontane reached down and lifted the bride up on to the bandstand so that Connie stood between him and Nino. Both men crouched down (согнулись, пригнулись), facing each other, Nino plucking the mandolin for a few harsh chords (с силой перебирая струны, взяв несколько мощных аккордов; to pluck – срывать /цветок/; пощипывать, перебирать /струны/; chord [ko:d] – струна; harsh – жесткий, твердый; резкий). It was an old routine of theirs, a mock battle and wooing (шутливое = в шутку сражение и ухажерство; to woo – ухаживать, добиваться), using their voices like swords, each shouting a chorus in turn (выкрикивая припев по очереди [‘ko:r∂s]). With the most delicate courtesy (вежливостью, учтивостью ['k∂tısı]), Johnny let Nino's voice overwhelm his own (позволил, дал одолеть, подавить свой собственный голос), let Nino take the bride from his arm, let Nino swing into the last victorious stanza while his own voice died away (замер, стих). The whole wedding party broke into shouts of applause, the three of them embraced each other at the end. The guests begged for another song.

Only Don Corleone, standing in the comer entrance of the house, sensed something amiss (почувствовал, что что-то не так). Cheerily, with bluff good humor (с наигранным /ср. «блеф»/ хорошим настроением), careful not to give offense to his guests (стараясь не обидеть, боясь обидеть), he called out, "My godson has come three thousand miles to do us honor and no one thinks to wet his throat?" At once a dozen full wine glasses were thrust at Johnny Fontane. He took a sip from all and rushed to embrace his Godfather (бросился обнять). As he did so he whispered something into the older man's ear. Don Corleone led him into the house.

The first one to see Johnny Fontane enter the garden was Connie Corleone. She forgot her bridal dignity and screamed, "Johneee." Then she ran into his arms. He hugged her tight and kissed her on the mouth, kept his arm around her as others came up to greet him. They were all his old friends, people he had grown up with on the West Side. Then Connie was dragging him to her new husband. Johnny saw with amusement that the blond young man looked a little sour at no longer being the star of the day. He turned on all his charm, shaking the groom's hand, toasting him with a glass of wine.

A familiar voice called from the bandstand, "How about giving us a song, Johnny?" He looked up and saw Nino Valenti smiling down at him. Johnny Fontane jumped up on the bandstand and threw his arms around Nino. They had been inseparable, singing together, going out with girls together, until Johnny had started to become famous and sing on the radio. When he had gone to Hollywood to make movies Johnny had phoned Nino a couple of times just to talk and had promised to get him a club singing date. But he had never done so. Seeing Nino now, his cheerful, mocking, drunken grin, all the affection returned.

Nino began strumming on the mandolin. Johnny Fontane put his hand on Nino's shoulder. "This is for the bride," he said, and stamping his foot, chanted the words to an obscene Sicilian love song. As he sang, Nino made suggestive motions with his body. The bride blushed proudly, the throng of guests roared its approval. Before the song ended they were all stamping with their feet and roaring out the sly, double-meaning tag line that finished each stanza. At the end they would not stop applauding until Johnny cleared his throat to sing another song.

They were all proud of him. He was of them and he had become a famous singer, a movie star who slept with the most desired women in the world. And yet he had shown proper respect for his Godfather by traveling three thousand miles to attend this wedding. He still loved old friends like Nino Valenti. Many of the people there had seen Johnny and Nino singing together when they were just boys, when no one dreamed that Johnny Fontane would grow up to hold the hearts of fifty million women in his hands.

Johnny Fontane reached down and lifted the bride up on to the bandstand so that Connie stood between him and Nino. Both men crouched down, facing each other, Nino plucking the mandolin for a few harsh chords. It was an old routine of theirs, a mock battle and wooing, using their voices like swords, each shouting a chorus in turn. With the most delicate courtesy, Johnny let Nino's voice overwhelm his own, let Nino take the bride from his arm, let Nino swing into the last victorious stanza while his own voice died away. The whole wedding party broke into shouts of applause, the three of them embraced each other at the end. The guests begged for another song.

Only Don Corleone, standing in the comer entrance of the house, sensed something amiss. Cheerily, with bluff good humor, careful not to give offense to his guests, he called out, "My godson has come three thousand miles to do us honor and no one thinks to wet his throat?" At once a dozen full wine glasses were thrust at Johnny Fontane. He took a sip from all and rushed to embrace his Godfather. As he did so he whispered something into the older man's ear. Don Corleone led him into the house.

Tom Hagen held out his hand when Johnny came into the room. Johnny shook it (пожал ее; to shake – трясти, встряхивать) and said, "How are you, Tom?" But without his usual charm (без своего обычного шарма) that consisted of a genuine warmth for people (который состоял из искренней теплоты, заключался в истинной теплоте по отношению к людям; genuine [‘dGenjuın] – истинный, неподдельный; искренний: «от рода, генов, от рождения»). Hagen was a little hurt by this coolness but shrugged it off (пожал плечами /и отмахнулся от этой мысли/). It was one of the penalties for being the Don's hatchet man (это было одним из наказаний за то, что он был исполнителем /грязной работы/; penalty ['penltı] – наказание, штраф; hatchet – топорик; hatchet man – человек, выполняющий грязную работу /по поручению какой-либо организации/; наемный убийца).

Johnny Fontane said to the Don, "When I got the wedding invitation I said to myself, 'My Godfather isn't mad at me anymore (больше не сердится на меня).' I called you five times after my divorce (после моего развода) and Tom always told me you were out or busy (что вас нет или вы заняты) so I knew you were sore (поэтому я знал, что вы обижены, сердитесь; sore – больной, болезненный, чувствительный; страдающий, испытывающий душевную боль)."

Don Corleone was filling glasses from the yellow bottle of Strega. "That's all forgotten (это все забыто). Now. Can I do something for you still? You're not too famous, too rich, that I can't help you?"

Johnny gulped down the yellow fiery liquid (проглотил желтую огненную жидкость [‘faı∂rı]) and held out his glass to be refilled (чтобы его снова наполнили). He tried to sound jaunty (старался, чтобы голос звучал весело, бодро [‘dGo:ntı]). "I'm not rich, Godfather. I'm going down (дела мои идут все хуже: «иду вниз»). You were right. I should never have left my wife and kids (я не должен был оставлять мою жену и детишек) for that tramp I married. I don't blame you for getting sore at me (я не виню вас, что вы сердитесь, сердились на меня)."

The Don shrugged. "I worried about you (беспокоился о тебе), you're my godson, that's all (вот и все)."

Johnny paced up and down the room (прошелся взад и вперед, измерил шагами комнату). "I was crazy about that bitch (эта сука меня с ума свела). The biggest star in Hollywood. She looks like an angel. And you know what she does after a picture? If the makeup man (гример; to make up – подкраситься, подмазаться; гримировать/ся/) does a good job on her face, she lets him bang her (она дает ему себя трахать; to bang – стукать, ударять). If the cameraman (оператор) made her look extra good, she brings him into her dressing room (в раздевалку, комнату для переодевания) and gives him a screw. Anybody. She uses her body like I use the loose change in my pocket for a tip (как я использую мелочь в моем кармане на чаевые; loose [lu:s] – свободный, неопределенный). A whore made for the devil (шлюха, созданная для дьявола [ho:])."

Don Corleone curtly broke in (резко перебил). "How is your family?"

Johnny sighed. "I took care of them (позаботился о них). After the divorce I gave Ginny and the kids more than the courts said I should. I go see them once a week. I miss them (скучаю по ним). Sometimes I think I'm going crazy." He took another drink. "Now my second wife laughs at me. She can't understand my being jealous (мою ревность, почему я ревную). She calls me an old-fashioned guinea, she makes fun of my singing (насмехается над моим пением). Before I left I gave her a nice beating but not in the face because she was making a picture. I gave her cramps, I punched her on the arms and legs like a kid and she kept laughing at me." He lit a cigarette. "So, Godfather, right now (вот сейчас, прямо сейчас), life doesn't seem worth living (жизнь не кажется стоящей того, чтобы ее жить, проживать)."

Don Corleone said simply, "These are troubles I can't help you with." He paused, then asked, "What's the matter with your voice (что случилось с твоим голосом)?"

All the assured charm (/само/уверенный [∂'∫u∂d]), the self-mockery (самоирония; to mock – насмехаться, высмеивать), disappeared from Johnny Fontane's face. He said almost brokenly (судорожно, толчками, рывками), "Godfather, I can't sing anymore, something happened to my throat (что-то случилось с моим горлом), the doctors don't know what." Hagen and the Don looked at him with surprise, Johnny had always been so tough (жесткий, плотный; крепкий; упрямый [tLf]). Fontane went on. "My two pictures made a lot of money. I was a big star. Now they throw me out (выбрасывают). The head of the studio always hated my guts (ненавидел меня: «мои кишки, внутренности») and now he's paying me off (увольняет; to pay off – расплачиваться сполна; увольнять)."

Don Corleone stood before his godson and asked grimly (сурово), "Why doesn't this man like you?"

"I used to sing those songs for the liberal organizations, you know, all that stuff you never liked me to do (все эти вещи, которые вы не хотели, чтобы я делал, вам никогда не нравилось, что я их делаю). Well, Jack Woltz didn't like it either (тоже). He called me a Communist, but he couldn't make it stick (чтобы прилипло). Then I snatched a girl he had saved for himself (увел девушку, которую он приберег для себя; to snatch – хватать; похищать; to save – спасать; беречь, экономить). It was strictly a one-night stand (это было всего лишь приключение на одну ночь; strictly – точно, без отклонений; one-night stand – одно представление /в один вечер/, которое дают где-либо странствующие актеры; случайное любовное приключение) and she came after me (сама навязалась; to come after – искать, домогаться; преследовать). What the hell could I do (что, черт возьми, я мог сделать; hell – ад)? Then my whore second wife throws me out. And Ginny and the kids won't take me back unless I come crawling on my hands and knees (если, пока я не приползу на карачках), and I can't sing anymore. Godfather, what the hell can I do?"

Tom Hagen held out his hand when Johnny came into the room. Johnny shook it and said, "How are you, Tom?" But without his usual charm that consisted of a genuine warmth for people. Hagen was a little hurt by this coolness but shrugged it off. It was one of the penalties for being the Don's hatchet man.

Johnny Fontane said to the Don, "When I got the wedding invitation I said to myself, My Godfather isn't mad at me anymore.' I called you five times after my divorce and Tom always told me you were out or busy so I knew you were sore."

Don Corleone was filling glasses from the yellow bottle of Strega. "That's all forgotten. Now. Can I do something for you still? You're not too famous, too rich, that I can't help you?"

Johnny gulped down the yellow fiery liquid and held out his glass to be refilled. He tried to sound jaunty. "I'm not rich, Godfather. I'm going down. You were right. I should never have left my wife and kids for that tramp I married. I don't blame you for getting sore at me."

The Don shrugged. "I worried about you, you're my godson, that's all."

Johnny paced up and down the room. "I was crazy about that bitch. The biggest star in Hollywood. She looks like an angel. And you know what she does after a picture? If the makeup man does a good job on her face, she lets him bang her. If the cameraman made her look extra good, she brings him into her dressing room and gives him a screw. Anybody. She uses her body like I use the loose change in my pocket for a tip. A whore made for the devil."

Don Corleone curtly broke in. "How is your family?"

Johnny sighed. "I took care of them. After the divorce I gave Ginny and the kids more than the courts said I should. I go see them once a week. I miss them. Sometimes I think I'm going crazy." He took another drink. "Now my second wife laughs at me. She can't understand my being jealous. She calls me an old-fashioned guinea, she makes fun of my singing. Before I left I gave her a nice beating but not in the face because she was making a picture. I gave her cramps, I punched her on the arms and legs like a kid and she kept laughing at me." He lit a cigarette. "So, Godfather, right now, life doesn't seem worth living."

Don Corleone said simply, "These are troubles I can't help you with." He paused, then asked, "What's the matter with your voice?"

All the assured charm, the self-mockery, disappeared from Johnny Fontane's face. He said almost brokenly, "Godfather, I can't sing anymore, something happened to my throat, the doctors don't know what." Hagen and the Don looked at him with surprise, Johnny had always been so tough. Fontane went on. "My two pictures made a lot of money. I was a big star. Now they throw me out. The head of the studio always hated my guts and now he's paying me off."

Don Corleone stood before his godson and asked grimly, "Why doesn't this man like you?"

"I used to sing those songs for the liberal organizations, you know, all that stuff you never liked me to do. Well, Jack Woltz didn't like it either. He called me a Communist, but he couldn't make it stick. Then I snatched a girl he had saved for himself. It was strictly a one-night stand and she came after me. What the hell could I do? Then my whore second wife throws me out. And Ginny and the kids won't take me back unless I come crawling on my hands and knees, and I can't sing anymore. Godfather, what the hell can I do?"

Don Corleone's face had become cold without a hint of sympathy (без намека на сочувствие). He said contemptuously (презрительно; contemptuous [k∂n’temptju∂s] – презрительный; contempt – презрение), "You can start by acting like a man (можешь начать с того, чтобы вести себя: «действовать» как мужчина)." Suddenly anger contorted his face (неожиданно гнев исказил его лицо). He shouted. "LIKE A MAN!" He reached over the desk and grabbed Johnny Fontane by the hair of his head (схватил) in a gesture that was savagely affectionate (жестом, который был «по-дикому сердечным»). "By Christ in heaven (Боже ты мой: «/клянусь/ Христом в небесах»), is it possible that you spent so much time in my presence (провел столько времени в моем обществе: «присутствии») and turned out no better than this (и вот что из тебя получилось: «и получился не лучше, чем это»; to turn out – выворачивать наружу; стать, делаться)? A Hollywood finocchio (пиноккьо = кукла) who weeps and begs for pity (умоляет о жалости)? Who cries out like a woman – 'What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?' "

The mimicry of the Don was so extraordinary, so unexpected, that Hagen and Johnny were startled into laughter (не удержались от смеха; to startle – испугать, поразить; вздрагивать, бросаться в сторону /о лошади/; побуждать / к действию/). Don Corleone was pleased. For a moment he reflected on how much he loved this godson. How would his own three sons have reacted to such a tongue-lashing (отреагировали бы на такое «бичевание языком»; lash – плеть, бич)? Santino would have sulked (дулся бы, был бы сердит, угрюм) and behaved badly for weeks afterward (и дурно бы себя вел в течение /нескольких/ недель после этого). Fredo would have been cowed (был бы запуган). Michael would have given him a cold smile and gone out of the house, not to be seen for months. But Johnny, ah, what a fine chap he was (чудный парень), smiling now, gathering strength (собирая силу, набираясь силы), knowing already the true purpose of his Godfather (истинную цель [‘p∂:p∂s]).

Don Corleone went on. "You took the woman of your boss, a man more powerful than yourself, then you complain he won't help you (жалуешься [k∂m'pleın]). What nonsense. You left your family, your children without a father, to marry a whore and you weep because they don't welcome you back with open arms. The whore, you don't hit her in the face because she is making a picture, then you are amazed (удивляешься; amazed [∂'meızd] – изумлен, поражен) because she laughs at you. You lived like a fool and you have come to a fool's end."

Don Corleone paused to ask in a patient voice, "Are you willing to take my advice this time (готов ли, расположен ли принять мой совет)?"

Johnny Fontane shrugged. "I can't marry Ginny again, not the way she wants. I have to gamble (мне нужно = я не могу не играть /на деньги/; делать ставки), I have to drink, I have to go out with the boys. Beautiful broads (девки [bro:d]) run after me and I never could resist them (у меня никогда не получалось сопротивляться им [rı'zıst]). Then I used to feel like a heel (как подонок, подлец, обманщик /на воровском жаргоне/; heel – пятка) when I went back to Ginny. Christ, I can't go through all that crap again (через все это дерьмо)."

It was rare (редко) that Don Corleone showed exasperation ([ıgzα:sp∂’reı∫n] – обострение /боли/; озлобление, раздражение, гнев). "'I didn't tell you to get married again. Do what you want. It's good you wish to be a father to your children. A man who is not a father to his children can never be a real man. But then, you must make their mother accept you. Who says you can't see them every day? Who says you can't live in the same house? Who says you can't live your life exactly as you want to live it?"

Johnny Fontane laughed. "Godfather, not all women are like the old Italian wives. Ginny won't stand for it (не станет этого терпеть; to stand for – терпеть, сносить)."