Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

was reputed to be of the "Black Hand," an offshoot (ответвление, боковая ветвь) of

the Mafia which extorted money from families and storekeepers by threat of physical

violence. However, since most of the inhabitants of the neighborhood were violent

themselves, Fanucci's threats of bodily harm were effective only with elderly couples

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without male children to defend them. Some of the storekeepers paid him trifling sums

as a matter of convenience. However, Fanucci was also a scavenger (уборщик мусора;

животное или птица, питающееся падалью ['skжvindG]) on fellow criminals, people

who illegally sold Italian lottery or ran gambling games in their homes. The Abbandando

grocery gave him a small tribute, this despite the protests of young Genco, who told his

father he would settle the Fanucci hash (заставит его замолчать, разделается с ним;

hash – блюдо из мелко нарезанного мяса и овощей; мешанина, путаница). His

father forbade him. Vito Corleone observed all this without feeling in any way involved.

One day Fanucci was set upon by three young men who cut his throat from ear to ear,

not deeply enough to kill him, but enough to frighten him and make him bleed a great

deal. Vito saw Fanucci fleeing from his punishers, the circular slash flowing red. What

he never forgot was Fanucci holding the cream-colored fedora under his chin to catch

the dripping blood as he ran. As if he did not want his suit soiled or did not want to leave

a shameful trail of carmine.

But this attack proved a blessing in disguise for Fanucci. The three young men were not

murderers, merely tough young boys determined to teach him a lesson and stop him

from scavenging. Fanucci proved himself a murderer. A few weeks later the knife-

wielder was shot to death and the families of the other two young men paid an

indemnity (возмещение, компенсация) to Fanucci to make him forswear his

vengeance (отказаться от мести). After that the tributes became higher and Fanucci

became a partner in the neighborhood gambling games. As for Vito Corleone, it was

none of his affair. He forgot about it immediately.

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During World War I, when imported olive oil became scarce, Fanucci acquired a part-

interest in the Abbandando grocery store by supplying it not only with oil, but imported

Italian salami, hams and cheeses. He then moved a nephew into the store and Vito

Corleone found himself out of a job.

By this time, the second child, Frederico, had arrived and Vito Corleone had four

mouths to feed. Up to this time he had been a quiet, very contained young man who

kept his thoughts to himself. The son of the grocery store owner, young Genco

Abbandando, was his closest friend, and to the surprise of both of them, Vito

reproached his friend for his father's deed. Genco, flushed with shame, vowed to Vito

that he would not have to worry about food. That he, Genco, would steal food from the

grocery to supply his friend's needs. This offer though was sternly refused by Vito as too

shameful, a son stealing from his father.

The young Vito, however, felt a cold anger for the dreaded Fanucci. He never showed

this anger in any way but bided his time (выжидал благоприятного случая). He

worked in the railroad for a few months and then, when the war ended, work became

slow and he could earn only a few days' pay a month. Also, most of the foremen were

Irish and American and abused the workmen in the foulest language, which Vito always

bore stone-faced as if he did not comprehend, though he understood English very well

despite his accent.

One evening as Vito was having supper with his family there was a knock on the

window that led to the open air shaft (шахта; проход) that separated them from the next

building. When Vito pulled aside the curtain he saw to his astonishment one of the

young men in the neighborhood, Peter Clemenza, leaning out from a window on the

other side of the air shaft. He was extending a white-sheeted bundle.

"Hey, paisan," Clemenza said. "Hold these for me until I ask for them. Hurry up."

Automatically Vito reached over the empty space of the air shaft and took the bundle.

Clemenza's face was strained and urgent. He was in some sort of trouble and Vito's

helping action was instinctive. But when he untied the bundle in his kitchen, there were

five oily guns staining the white cloth. He put them in his bedroom closet and waited. He

learned that Clemenza had been taken away by the police. They must have been

knocking on his door when he handed the guns over the air shaft.

Vito never said a word to anyone and of course his terrified wife dared not open her

lips even in gossip for fear her own husband would be sent to prison. Two days later

Peter Clemenza reappeared in the neighborhood and asked Vito casually, "Do you

have my goods still?"

Vito nodded. He was in the habit of talking little.

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Clemenza came up to his tenement flat and was given a glass of wine while Vito dug

the bundle out of his bedroom closet.

Clemenza drank his wine, his heavy good-natured face alertly watching Vito. "Did you

look inside?"

Vito, his face impassive, shook his head. "I'm not interested in things that don't

concern me," he said.

They drank wine together the rest of the evening. They found each other congenial.

Clemenza was a storyteller; Vito Corleone was a listener to storytellers. They became

casual friends.

A few days later Clemenza asked the wife of Vito Corleone if she would like a fine rug