Илья Франк - Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

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."

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