Илья Франк - Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

vigorous woman, as stout as her husband. There was no sign of the girl.

After the introductions, which Michael did not even hear, they sat in the room that

might possibly have been a living room or just as easily the formal dining room. It was

cluttered with all kinds of furniture and not very large but for Sicily it was middle-class

splendor.

Michael gave Signor Vitelli and Signora Vitelli their presents. For the father it was a

gold cigar-cutter, for the mother a bolt (кусок, рулон /холста, шелковой материи/) of

the finest cloth purchasable in Palermo. He still had one package for the girl. His

presents were received with reserved thanks. The gifts were a little too premature, he

should not have given anything until his second visit.

The father said to him, in man-to-man country fashion, "Don't think we're so of no

account to welcome strangers into our house so easily. But Don Tommasino vouched

for you personally and nobody in this province would ever doubt the word of that good

man. And so we make you welcome. But I must tell you that if your intentions are

serious about my daughter, we will have to know a little more about you and your family.

You can understand, your family is from this country."

Michael nodded and said politely, "I will tell you anything you wish to know anytime."

Signor Vitelli held up a hand. "I'm not a nosy (носатый; любопытный) man. Let's see

if it's necessary first. Right now you're welcome in my house as a friend of Don

Tommasino."

Despite the drug painted inside his nose, Michael actually smelled the girl's presence

in the room. He turned and she was standing in the arched doorway that led to the back

of the house. The smell was of fresh flowers and lemon blossoms but she wore nothing

in her hair of jet black curls, nothing on her plain severe black dress, obviously her

Sunday best. She gave him a quick glance and a tiny smile before she cast her eyes

down demurely and sat down next to her mother.

Again Michael felt that shortness of breath, that flooding through his body of

something that was not so much desire as an insane possessiveness. He understood

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for the first time the classical jealousy of the Italian male. He was at that moment ready

to kill anyone who touched this girl, who tried to claim her, take her away from him. He

wanted to own her as wildly as a miser (скупец, скряга) wants to own gold coins, as

hungrily as a sharecropper (испольщик, издольщик) wants to own his own land.

Nothing was going to stop him from owning this girl, possessing her, locking her in a

house and keeping her prisoner only for himself. He didn't want anyone even to see her.

When she turned to smile at one of her brothers Michael gave that young man a

murderous look without even realizing it. The family could see it was a classical case of

the "thunderholt" and they were reassured. This young man would be putty (оконная

замазка; шпатлевка; послушное орудие, игрушка /в чьих-либо руках/) in their

daughter's hands until they were married. After that of course things would change but it

wouldn't matter.

Michael had bought himself some new clothes in Palermo and was no longer the

roughly dressed peasant, and it was obvious to the family that he was a Don of some

kind. His smashed face did not make him as evil-looking as he believed; because his

other profile was so handsome it made the disfigurement interesting even. And in any

case this was a land where to be called disfigured you had to compete with a host of

men who had suffered extreme physical misfortune.

Michael looked directly at the girl, the lovely ovals of her face. Her lips now he could

see were almost blue so dark was the blood pulsating in them. He said, not daring to

speak her name, "I saw you by the orange groves the other day. When you ran away. I

hope I didn't frighten you?"

The girl raised her eyes to him for just a fraction. She shook her head. But the

loveliness of those eyes had made Michael look away. The mother said tartly (tart –

кислый, терпкий, едкий; резкий, колкий /об ответе или возражении/), "Apollonia,

speak to the poor fellow, he's come miles to see you," but the girl's long jet lashes

remained closed like wings over her eyes. Michael handed her the present wrapped in

gold paper and the girl put it in her lap. The father said, "Open it, girl," but her hands did

not move. Her hands were small and brown, an urchin's hands (urchin – мальчишка,

пострел). The mother reached over and opened the package impatiently, yet careful

not to tear the precious paper. The red velvet jeweler's box gave ber pause, she had

never held such a thing in her hands and didn't know how to spring its catch (запор,

задвижка). But she got it open on pure instinct and then took out the present.

It was a heavy gold chain to be worn as a necklace, and it awed them not only

because of its obvious value but because a gift of gold in this society was also a

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statement of the most serious intentions. It was no less than a proposal of matrimony, or

rather the signal that there was the intention to propose matrimony. They could no

longer doubt the seriousness of this stranger. And they could not doubt his substance

(вещество, материя; имущество, состояние).

Apollonia still had not touched her present. Her mother held it up for her to see and

she raised those long lashes for a moment and then she looked directly at Michael, her

doelike brown eyes grave, and said, "Grazia." It was the first time he had heard her

voice.

It had all the velvety softness of youth and shyness and it set Michael's ears ringing.

He kept looking away from her and talking to the father and mother simply because

looking at her confused him so much. But he noticed that despite the conservative

looseness of her dress her body almost shone through the cloth with sheer sensuality.

And he noticed the darkening of her skin blushing, the dark creamy skin, going darker

with the blood surging to her face.

Finally Michael rose to go and the family rose too. They said their good-byes formally,

the girl at last confronting him as they shook hands, and he felt the shock of her skin on

his skin, her skin warm and rough, peasant skin. The father walked down the hill with

him to his car and invited him to Sunday dinner the next week. Michael nodded but he

knew he coudn't wait a week to see the girl again.

He didn't. The next day, without his shepherds, he drove to the village and sat on the

garden terrace of the cafй to chat with her father. Signor Vitelli took pity on him and sent

for his wife and daughter to come down to the cafй to join them. This meeting was less

awkward. The girl Apollonia was less shy, and spoke more. She was dressed in her

everyday print frock which suited her coloring much better.

The next day the same thing happened. Only this time Apollonia was wearing the gold

chain he had given her. He smiled at her then, knowing that this was a signal to him. He

walked with her up the hill, her mother close behind them. But it was impossible for the

two young people to keep their bodies from brushing against each other and once

Apollonia stumbled and fell against him so that he had to hold her and her body so

warm and alive in his hands started a deep wave of blood rising in his body. They could

not see the mother behind them smiling because her daughter was a mountain goat and

had not stumbled on this path since she was an infant in diapers. And smiling because

this was the only way this young man was going to get his hands on her daughter until

the marriage.

This went on for two weeks. Michael brought her presents every time he came and

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gradually she became less shy. But they could never meet without a chaperone being

present. She was just a village girl, barely literate, with no idea of the world, but she had

a freshness, an eagerness for life that, with help of the language barrier, made her

seem interesting. Everything went very swiftly at Michael's request. And because the

girl was not only fascinated by him but knew he must be rich, a wedding date was set

for the Sunday two weeks away.

Now Don Tommasino took a hand. He had received word from America that Michael

was not subject to orders but that all elementary precautions should be taken. So Don

Tommasino appointed himself the parent of the bridegroom to insure the presence of

his own bodyguards. Calo and Fabrizzio were also members of the wedding party from

Corleone as was Dr. Taza. The bride and groom would live in Dr. Taza's villa

surrounded by its stone wall.

The wedding was the usual peasant one. The villagers stood in the streets and threw

flowers as the bridal party, principals and guests, went on foot from the church to the

bride's home. The wedding procession pelted (to pelt – бросать /в кого-либо/,

забрасывать) the neighbors with sugar-coated almonds, the traditional wedding

candies, and with candies left over made sugary white mountains on the bride's

wedding bed, in this case only a symbolic one since the first night would be spent in the

villa outside Corleone. The wedding feast went on until midnight but bride and groom

would leave before that in the Alfa Romeo. When that time came Michael was surprised

to find that the mother was coming with them to the Corleone villa at the request of the

bride. The father explained: the girl was young, a virgin, a little frightened, she would

need someone to talk to on the morning following her bridal night; to put her on the right

track if things went wrong. These matters could sometimes get very tricky. Michael saw

Apollonia looking at him with doubt in her huge doe-brown eyes. He smiled at her and

nodded.

And so it came about that they drove back to the villa outside Corleone with the

mother-in-law in the car. But the older woman immediately put her head together with

the servants of Dr. Taza, gave her daughter a hug and a kiss and disappeared from the

scene. Michael and his bride were allowed to go to their huge bedroom alone.

Apollonia was still wearing her bridal costume with a cloak thrown over it. Her trunk

and case had been brought up to the room from the car. On a small table was a bottle

of wine and a plate of small wedding cakes. The huge canopied (canopy [‘kжn∂pı] –

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балдахин, полог) bed was never out of their vision. The young girl in the center of the

room waited for Michael to make the first move.

And now that he had her alone, now that he legally possessed her, now that there

was no barrier to his enjoying that body and face he had dreamed about every night,

Michael could not bring himself to approach her. He watched as she took off the bridal

shawl and draped it over a chair, and placed the bridal crown on the small dressing

table. That table had an array of perfumes and creams that Michael had had sent from

Palermo. The girl tallied (tally – бирка, этикетка, ярлык; счет /в игре/; to tally –

подсчитывать, здесь: просмотреть) them with her eyes for a moment.

Michael turned off the lights, thinking the girl was waiting for some darkness to shield

her body while she undressed. But the Sicilian moon came through the unshuttered

windows, bright as gold, and Michael went to close the shutters but not all the way, the

room would be too warm.

The girl was still standing by the table and so Michael went out of the room and down

the hall to the bathroom. He and Dr. Taza and Don Tommasino had taken a glass of

wine together in the garden while the women had prepared themselves for bed. He had

expected to find Apollonia in her nightgown when he returned, already between the

covers. He was surprised that the mother had not done this service for her daughter.

Maybe Apollonia had wanted him to help her to undress. But he was certain she was

too shy, too innocent for such forward behavior (смелое, развязное поведение;

forward [‘fo:w∂d] – передний, передовой; развязный, нахальный /кто лезет вперед/;

behavior [bı’heıvj∂] – поведение, манеры).

Coming back into the bedroom, he found it completely dark, someone had closed the

shutters all the way. He groped his way toward the bed and could make out the shape

of Apollonia's body lying under the covers, her back to him, her body curved away from

him and huddled up. He undressed and slipped naked beneath the sheets. He stretched

out one hand and touched silky naked skin. She had not put on her gown and this

boldness delighted him. Slowly, carefully, he put one hand on her shoulder and pressed

her hody gently so that she would turn to him. She turned slowly and his hand touched

her breast, soft, full and then she was in his arms so quickly that their bodies came

together in one line of silken electricity and he finally had his arms around her, was

kissing her warm mouth deeply, was crushing her body and breasts against him and

then rolling his body on top of hers.

Her flesh and hair taut (туго натянутый, упругий [to:t]) silk, now she was all

eagerness, surging against him wildly in a virginal erotic frenzy. When he entered her

she gave a little gasp and was still for just a second and then in a powerful forward

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thrust of her pelvis she locked her satiny legs around his hips. When they came to the

end they were locked together so fiercely, straining against each other so violently, that

falling away from each other was like the tremble before death.

That night and the weeks that followed, Michael Corleone came to understand the

premium (большой почет, спрос [‘pri:mj∂m]) put on virginity by socially primitive people.

It was a period of sensuality that he had never before experienced, a sensuality mixed

with a feeling of masculine power. Apollonia in those first days became almost his slave.

Given trust, given affection, a young full-blooded girl aroused from virginity to erotic

awareness was as delicious as an exactly ripe fruit.

She on her part brightened up the rather gloomy masculine atmosphere of the villa.

She had packed her mother off the very next day after her bridal night and presided at

the communal table with bright girlish charm. Don Tommasino dined with them every