Илья Франк - Английский язык с Крестным Отцом
Carlo that because of this he was a better man than Sonny Corleone, if such terms
could be used; he envied Sonny his awesome savagery, a savagery which was now
becoming a legend.
Tom Hagen, as the Consigliori, disapproved of Sonny's tactics and yet decided not to
protest to the Don simply because the tactics, to some extent, worked. The Five
Families seemed to be cowed (to cow – запугивать, усмирять), finally, as the attrition
went on, and their counterblows weakened and finally ceased altogether. Hagen at first
distrusted this seeming pacification of the enemy but Sonny was jubilant (ликующий,
торжествующий ['dGu:bıl∂nt]). "I'll pour it on," he told Hagen, "and then those bastards
will come begging for a deal."
Sonny was worried about other things. His wife was giving him a hard time because
the rumors had gotten to her that Lucy Mancini had bewitched her husband. And though
she joked publicly about her Sonny's equipment and technique, he had stayed away
from her too long and she missed him in her bed, and she was making life miserable for
him with her nagging.
In addition to this Sonny was under the enormous strain of being a marked man. He
had to be extraordinarily careful in all his movements and he knew that his visits to Lucy
Mancini had been charted by the enemy. But here he took elaborate precautions since
this was the traditional vulnerable spot. He was safe there. Though Lucy had not the
slightest suspicion, she was watched twenty-four hours a day by men of the Santino
regime and when an apartment became vacant on her floor it was immediately rented
by one of the most reliable men of that regime.
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The Don was recovering and would soon be able to resume command. At that time
the tide of battle must swing to the Corleone Family. This Sonny was sure of.
Meanwhile he would guard his Family's empire, earn the respect of his father, and,
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since the position was not hereditary to an absolute degree, cement his claim as heir to
the Corleone Empire.
But the enemy was making its plans. They too had analyzed the situation and had
come to the conclusion that the only way to stave off (предотвратить, отсрочить
/бедствие/; stave – палка, шест) complete defeat was to kill Sonny Corleone. They
understood the situation better now and felt it was possible to negotiate with the Don,
known for his logical reasonableness. They had come to hate Sonny for his
bloodthirstiness, which they considered barbaric. Also not good business sense.
Nobody wanted the old days back again with all its turmoil (суматоха, беспорядок
['t∂:moıl]) and trouble.
One evening Connie Corleone received an anonymous phone call, a girl's voice,
asking for Carlo. "Who is this?" Connie asked.
The girl on the other end giggled and said, "I'm a friend of Carlo's. I just wanted to tell
him I can't see him tonight. I have to go out of town."
"You lousy bitch," Connie Corleone said. She screamed it again into the phone. "You
lousy tramp bitch." There was a click on the other end.
Carlo had gone to the track for that afternoon and when he came home in the late
evening he was sore at losing and half drunk from the bottle he always carried. As soon
as he stepped into the door, Connie started screaming curses at him. He ignored her
and went in to take a shower. When he came out he dried his naked body in front of her
and started dolling up (to doll up – наряжать/ся/; doll – кукла) to go out.
Connie stood with hands on hips, her face pointy (заостренный) and white with rage.
"You're not going any place," she said. "Your girl friend called and said she can't make it
tonight. You lousy bastard, you have the nerve to give your whores my phone number.
I'll kill you, you bastard." She rushed at him, kicking and scratching.
He held her off with one muscular forearm. "You're crazy," he said coldly. But she
could see he was worried, as if he knew the crazy girl he was screwing would actually
pull such a stunt (удачное, эффектное выступление; штука, трюк, фокус). "She was
kidding around, some nut," Carlo said.
Connie ducked (to duck – нырять, увертываться; duck – утка) around his arm and
clawed (to claw – царапать; claw – коготь) at his face. She got a little bit of his cheek
under her fingernails. With surprising patience he pushed her away. She noticed he was
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careful because of her pregnancy and that gave her the courage to feed her rage. She
was also excited. Pretty soon she wouldn't be able to do anything, the doctor had said
no sex for the last two months and she wanted it, before the last two months started.
Yet her wish to inflict a physical injury on Carlo was very real too. She followed him into
the bedroom.
She could see he was scared and that filled her with contemptuous delight. "You're
staying home," she said, "you're not going out."
"OK, OK," he said. He was still undressed, only wearing his shorts. He liked to go
around the house like that, he was proud of his V-shaped body, the golden skin. Connie
looked at him hungrily. He tried to laugh. "You gonna give me something to eat at
least?"
That mollified (to mollify – смягчить) her, his calling on her duties, one of them at
least. She was a good cook, she had learned that from her mother. She sauteed (to
sautй – потушить, приготовить что-либо быстро в небольшом количестве масла
или жира) veal and peppers, preparing a mixed salad while the pan simmered (to
simmer – закипать; кипеть на медленном огне). Meanwhile Carlo stretched out on his
bed to read the next day's racing form. He had a water glass full of whiskey beside him
which he kept sipping at.
Connie came into the bedroom. She stood in the doorway as if she could not come
close to the bed without being invited. "The food is on the table," she said.
"I'm not hungry yet," he said, still reading the racing form.
"It's on the table," Connie said stubbornly.
"Stick it up your ass," Carlo said. He drank off the rest of the whiskey in the water
glass, tilted the bottle to fill it again. He paid no more attention to her.
Connie went into the kitchen, picked up the plates filled with food and smashed them
against the sink. The loud crashes brought Carlo in from the bedroom. He looked at the
greasy veal and peppers splattered all over the kitchen walls and his finicky
(разборчивый, мелочно требовательный) neatness was outraged. "You filthy guinea
spoiled brat," he said venomously. "Clean that up right now or I'll kick the shit out of
you."
"Like hell I will," Connie said. She held her hands like claws ready to scratch his bare
chest to ribbons.
Carlo went back into the bedroom and when he came out he was holding his belt
doubled in his hand. "Clean it up," he said and there was no mistaking the menace in
his voice. She stood there not moving and he swung the belt against her heavily padded
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hips, the leather stinging but not really hurting. Connie retreated to the kitchen cabinets
and her hand went into one of the drawers to haul out the long bread knife. She held it
ready.
Carlo laughed. "Even the female Corleones are murderers," he said. He put the belt
down on the kitchen table and advanced toward her. She tried a sudden lunge but her
pregnant heavy body made her slow and he eluded the thrust she aimed at his groin in
such deadly earnest. He disarmed her easily and then he started to slap her face with a
slow medium-heavy stroke so as not to break the skin. He hit her again and again as
she retreated around the kitchen table trying to escape him and he pursued her into the
bedroom. She tried to bite his hand and he grabbed her by the hair to lift her head up.
He slapped her face until she began to weep like a little girl, with pain and humiliation.
Then he threw her contemptuously onto the bed. He drank from the bottle of whiskey
still on the night table. He seemed very drunk now, his light blue eyes had a crazy glint
in them and finally Connie was truly afraid.
Carlo straddled his legs apart and drank from the bottle. He reached down and
grabbed a chunk (толстый кусок, ломоть) of her pregnant heavy thigh in his hand. He
squeezed very hard, hurting her and making her beg for mercy. "You're fat as a pig," he
said with disgust and walked out of the bedroom.
Thoroughly frightened and cowed, she lay in the bed, not daring to see what her
husband was doing in the other room. Finally she rose and went to the door to peer into
the living room. Carlo had opened a fresh bottle of whiskey and was sprawled on the
sofa. In a little while he would drink himself into sodden (промокший, пропитанный;
отупевший /напр. от усталости, пьянства/) sleep and she could sneak into the kitchen
and call her family in Long Beach. She would tell her mother to send someone out here
to get her. She just hoped Sonny didn't answer the phone, she knew it would be best to
talk to Tom Hagen or her mother.
It was nearly ten o'clock at night when the kitchen phone in Don Corleone's house
rang. It was answered by one of the Don's bodyguards who dutifully turned the phone
over to Connie's mother. But Mrs. Corleone could hardly understand what her daughter
was saying, the girl was hysterical yet trying to whisper so that her husband in the next
room would not hear her. Also her face had become swollen because of the slaps, and
her puffy lips thickened her speech. Mrs. Corleone made a sign to the bodyguard that
he should call Sonny, who was in the living room with Tom Hagen.
Sonny came into the kitchen and took the phone from his mother. "Yeah, Connie," he
said.
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Connie was so frightened both of her husband and of what her brother would do that
her speech became worse. She babbled, "Sonny, just send a car to bring me home, I'll
tell you then, it's nothing, Sonny. Don't you come. Send Tom, please, Sonny. It's
nothing, I just want to come home."
By this time Hagen had come into the room. The Don was already under a sedated
sleep in the bedroom above and Hagen wanted to keep an eye on Sonny in all crises.
The two interior bodyguards were also in the kitchen. Everybody was watching Sonny
as he listened on the phone.
There was no question that the violence in Sonny Corleone's nature rose from some
deep mysterious physical well. As they watched they could actually see the blood
rushing to his heavily corded neck, could see the eyes film with hatred, the separate
features of his face tightening, growing pinched, then his face took on the grayish hue of
a sick man fighting off some sort of death, except that the adrenalin pumping through
his body made his hands tremble. But his voice was controlled, pitched low, as he told
his sister, "You wait there. You just wait there." He hung up the phone.
He stood there for a moment quite stunned with his own rage, then he said, "The
fucking sonofabitch, the fucking sonofabitch." He ran out of the house.
Hagen knew the look on Sonny's face, all reasoning power had left him. At this
moment Sonny was capable of anything. Hagen also knew that the ride into the city
would cool Sonny off, make him more rational. But that rationality might make him even
more dangerous, though the rationality would enable him to protect himself against the
consequences of his rage. Hagen heard the car motor roaring into life and he said to the
two bodyguards, "Go after him."
Then he went to the phone and made some calls. He arranged for some men of
Sonny's regime living in the city to go up to Carlo Rizzi's apartment and get Carlo out of
there. Other men would stay with Connie until Sonny arrived. He was taking a chance
(рисковал), thwarting (thwart – банка на гребной шлюпке; поперечный; to thwart –
перечить; /по/мешать исполнению, /здесь/ раздражая, действуя ему «против
шерсти») Sonny, but he knew the Don would back him up. He was afraid that Sonny
might kill Carlo in front of witnesses. He did not expect trouble from the enemy. The
Five Families had been quiet too long and obviously were looking for peace of some
kind.
By the time Sonny roared out of the mall in his Buick, he had already regained, partly,
his senses. He noted the two bodyguards getting into a car to follow him and approved.
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He expected no danger, the Five Families had quit counterattacking, were not really
fighting anymore.
He had grabbed his jacket in the foyer and there was a gun in a secret dashboard
(щиток, приборная доска) compartment (отделение) of the car, the car registered in
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the name of a member of his regime, so that he personally could not get into any legal
trouble. But he did not anticipate needing any weapon. He did not even know what he
was going to do with Carlo Rizzi.
Now that he had a chance to think, Sonny knew he could not kill the father of an
unborn child, and that father his sister's husband. Not over a domestic spat (небольшая
ссора; легкий удар, шлепок; to spat – похлопать, пошлепать; побраниться; слегка
поссориться). Except that it was not just a domestic spat. Carlo was a bad guy and
Sonny felt responsible that his sister had met the bastard through him.
The paradox in Sonny's violent nature was that he could not hit a woman and had
never done so. That he could not harm a child or anything helpless. When Carlo had
