Илья Франк - Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

family sewed buttons on cards at night at slave labor piece rates. The woman's name

was Signora Colombo.

Vito Corleone's wife said, "The Signora has a favor to ask of you. She is having some

trouble."

Vito Corleone expected to be asked for money, which he was ready to give. But it

seemed that Mrs. Colombo owned a dog which her youngest son adored. The landlord

had received complaints on the dog barking at night and had told Mrs. Colombo to get

rid of it. She had pretended to do so. The landlord had found out that she had deceived

him and had ordered her to vacate her apartment. She had promised this time to truly

get rid of the dog and she had done so. But the landlord was so angry that he would not

revoke (отменить, взять назад) his order. She had to get out or the police would be

summoned (to summon [‘sΛm∂n] – требовать исполнения) to put her out. And her

poor little boy had cried so when they had given the dog away to relatives who lived in

Long Island. All for nothing (ни за что ни про что), they would lose their home.

Vito Corleone asked her gently, "Why do you ask me to help you?"

Mrs. Colombo nodded toward his wife. "She told me to ask you."

He was surprised. His wife had never questioned him about the clothes he had

washed the night he had murdered Fanucci. Had never asked him where all the money

came from when he was not working. Even now her face was impassive. Vito said to

Mrs Colombo, "I can give you some money to help you move, is that what you want?"

The woman shook her head, she was in tears. "All my friends are here, all the girls I

grew up with in Italy. How can I move to another neighborhood with strangers? I want

you to speak to the landlord to let me stay."

Vito nodded. "It's done then. You won't have to move. I'll speak to him tomorrow

morning."

His wife gave him a smile which he did not acknowledge, but he felt pleased. Mrs.

Colombo looked a little uncertain. "You're sure he'll say yes, the landlord?" she asked.

"Signor Roberto?" Vito said in a surprised voice. "Of course he will. He's a good-

hearted fellow. Once I explain how things are with you he'll take pity on your

misfortunes. Now don't let it trouble you any more. Don't get so upset. Guard your

health, for the sake of your children."

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49

The landlord, Mr. Roberto, came to the neighborhood every day to check on the row

of five tenements that he owned. He was a padrone , a man who sold Italian laborers

just off the boat to the big corporations. With his profits he had bought the tenements

one by one. An educated man from the North of Italy, he felt only contempt for these

illiterate (неграмотные, бескультурные) Southerners from Sicily and Naples, who

swarmed (to swarm – кишеть, роиться; swarm – рой, стая) like vermin (паразиты

['v∂:mın]) through his buildings, who threw garbage down the air shafts, who let

cockroaches (тараканы) and rats eat away his walls without lifting a hand to preserve

his property. He was not a bad man, he was a good husband and father, but constant

worry about his investments, about the money he earned, about the inevitable expenses

that came with being a man of property had worn his nerves to a frazzle (потертые или

обтрепанные края платья) so that he was in a constant state of irritation. When Vito

Corleone stopped him on the street to ask for a word, Mr. Roberto was brusque

(отрывистый, резкий, бесцеремонный [brusk]). Not rude, since anyone of these

Southerners might stick a knife into you if rubbed the wrong way, though this young

man looked like a quiet fellow.

"Signor Roberto," said Vito Corleone, "the friend of my wife, a poor widow with no man

to protect her, tells me that for some reason she has been ordered to move from her

apartment in your building. She is in despair. She has no money, she has no friends

except those that live here. I told her that I would speak to you, that you are a

reasonable man who acted out of some misunderstanding. She has gotten rid of the

animal that caused all the trouble and so why shouldn't she stay? As one Italian to

another, I ask you the favor."

Signor Roberto studied the young man in front of him. He saw a man of medium

stature but strongly built, a peasant but not a bandit, though he so laughably dared to

call himself an Italian. Roberto shrugged. "I have already rented the apartment to

another family for higher rent," he said. "I cannot disappoint them for the sake of your

friend."

Vito Corleone nodded in agreeable understanding. "How much more a month?" he

asked.

"Five dollars," Mr. Roberto said. This was a lie. The railway flat, four dark rooms,

rented for twelve dollars a month to the widow and he had not been able to get more

than that from the new tenant.

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Vito Corleone took a roll of bills out of his pocket and peeled off three tens. "Here is

the six months' increase in advance. You needn't speak to her about it, she's a proud

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woman. See me again in another six months. But of course you'll let her keep her dog."

"Like hell," Mr. Roberto said. "And who the hell are you to give me orders. Watch your

manners or you'll be out on your Sicilian ass in the street there."

Vito Corleone raised his hands in surprise. "I'm asking you a favor, only that. One

never knows when one might need a friend, isn't that true? Here, take this money as a

sign of my goodwill and make your own decision. I wouldn't dare to quarrel with it." He

thrust the money into Mr. Roberto's hand. "Do me this little favor, just take the money

and think things over. Tomorrow morning if you want to give me the money back by all

means (любым способом, во что бы то ни стало; /здесь/ конечно же, пожалуйста,

ради Бога) do so. If you want the woman out of your house, how can I stop you? It's

your property, after all. If you don't want the dog in there, I can understand. I dislike

animals myself." He patted Mr. Roberto on the shoulder. "Do me this service, eh? I

won't forget it. Ask your friends in the neighborhood about me, they'll tell you I'm a man

who believes in showing his gratitude."

But of course Mr. Roberto had already begun to understand. That evening he made

inquiries about Vito Corleone. He did not wait until the next morning. He knocked on the

Corleone door that very night, apologizing for the lateness of the hour and accepted a

glass of wine from Signora Corleone. He assured Vito Corleone that it had all been a

dreadful misunderstanding, that of course Signora Colombo could remain in the flat, of

course she could keep her dog. Who were those miserable tenants to complain about

noise from a poor animal when they paid such a low rent? At the finish he threw the

thirty dollars Vito Corleone had given him on the table and said in the most sincere

fashion, "Your good heart in helping this poor widow has shamed me and I wish to show

that I, too, have some Christian charity (милосердие). Her rent will remain what it was."

All concerned played this comedy prettily. Vito poured wine, called for cakes, wrung

Mr. Roberto's hand and praised his warm heart. Mr. Roberto sighed and said that

having made the acquaintance of such a man as Vito Corleone restored his faith in

human nature. Finally they tore themselves away from each other. Mr. Roberto, his

bones turned to jelly with fear at his narrow escape, caught the streetcar to his home in

the Bronx and took to his bed. He did not reappear in his tenements for three days.

Vito Corleone was now a "man of respect" in the neighborhood. He was reputed to be

a member of the Mafia of Sicily. One day a man who ran card games in a furnished

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51

room came to him and voluntarily paid him twenty dollars each week for his "friendship."

He had only to visit the game once or twice a week to let the players understand they

were under his protection.

Store owners who had problems with young hoodlums asked him to intercede

(вмешаться). He did so and was properly rewarded. Soon he had the enormous

income for that time and place of one hundred dollars a week. Since Clemenza and

Tessio were his friends, his allies, he had to give them each part of the money, but this

he did without being asked. Finally he decided to go into the olive oil importing business

with his boyhood chum (приятель, закадычный друг), Genco Abbandando. Genco

would handle the business, the importing of the olive oil from Italy, the buying at the

proper price, the storing in his father's warehouse. Genco had the experience for this

part of the business. Clemenza and Tessio would be the salesmen. They would go to

every Italian grocery store in Manhattan, then Brooklyn, then the Bronx, to persuade

store owners to stock Genco Pura olive oil. (With typical modesty, Vito Corleone refused

to name the brand (головня; клеймо; /здесь/ фабричная марка) after himself.) Vito of

course would be the head of the firm since he was supplying most of the capital. He

also would be called in on special cases, where store owners resisted the sales talks of

Clemenza and Tessio. Then Vito Corleone would use his own formidable powers of

persuasion.

For the next few years Vito Corleone lived that completely satisfying life of a small

businessman wholly devoted to building up his commercial enterprise in a dynamic,

expanding economy. He was a devoted father and husband but so busy he could spare

his family little of his time. As Genco Pura olive oil grew to become the bestselling

imported Italian oil in America, his organization mushroomed (быстро росла;

mushroom – гриб). Like any good salesman he came to understand the benefits of

undercutting his rivals in price, barring them from distribution outlets by persuading

store

owners to stock less of their brands. Like any good businessman he aimed at holding a

monopoly by forcing his rivals to abandon the field or by merging (to merge –

сливаться) with his own company. However, since he had started off relatively helpless,

economically, since he did not believe in advertising, relying on word of mouth and

since if truth be told, his olive oil was no better than his competitors', he could not use

the common strangleholds (stranglehold – удушение, мертвая хватка) of legitimate

businessmen. He had to rely on the force of his own personality and his reputation as a

"man of respect."

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52

Even as a young man, Vito Corleone became known as a "man of reasonableness."

He never uttered a threat. He always used logic that proved to be irresistible. He always