Читать интересную книгу Английский язык с Крестным Отцом - Илья Франк

The family of Genco Abbandando, wife and three daughters dressed in black, clustered like a flock of plump crows on the white tile floor of the hospital corridor. When they saw Don Corleone come out of the elevator, they seemed to flutter up off the white tiles in an instinctive surge toward him for protection. The mother was regally stout in black, the daughters fat and plain. Mrs. Abbandando pecked at Don Corleone's cheek, sobbing, wailing, "Oh, what a saint you are, to come here on your daughter's wedding day."

Don Corleone brushed these thanks aside. "Don't I owe respect to such a friend, a friend who has been my right arm for twenty years?" He had understood immediately that the soon-to-be widow did not comprehend that her husband would die this night. Genco Abbandando had been in this hospital for nearly a year dying of his cancer and the wife had come to consider his fatal illness almost an ordinary part of life. Tonight was just another crisis. She babbled on. "Go in and see my poor husband," she said, "he asks for you. Poor man, he wanted to come to the wedding to show his respect but the doctor would not permit it. Then he said you would come to see him on this great day but I did not believe it possible. Ah, men understand friendship more than we women. Go inside, you will make him happy."

A nurse and a doctor came out of Genco Abbandando's private room. The doctor was a young man, serious-faced and with the air of one born to command, that is to say, the air of one who has been immensely rich all his life. One of the daughters asked timidly, "Dr. Kennedy, can we go to see him now?"

Dr. Kennedy looked over the large group with exasperation. Didn't these people realize that the man inside was dying and dying in torturous pain? It would be much better if everyone let him die in peace. "I think just the immediate family," be said in his exquisitely polite voice. He was surprised when the wife and daughters turned to the short, heavy man dressed in an awkwardly fitted tuxedo, as if to hear his decision.

The heavy man spoke. There was just the slightest trace of an Italian accent in his voice. "My dear doctor," said Don Corleone, "is it true he is dying?"

"Yes," said Dr. Kennedy.

"Then there is nothing more for you to do," said Don Corleone. "We will take up the burden. We will comfort him. We will close his eyes. We will bury him and weep at his funeral and afterwards we will watch over his wife and daughters." At hearing things put so bluntly, forcing her to understand, Mrs. Abbandando began to weep.

Dr. Kennedy shrugged. It was impossible to explain to these peasants. At the same time he recognized the crude justice in the man's remarks. His role was over. Still exquisitely polite, he said, "Please wait for the nurse to let you in, she has a few necessary things to do with the patient." He walked away from them down the corridor, his white coat flapping.

The nurse went back into the room and they waited. Finally she came out again, holding the door for them to enter. She whispered, "He's delirious with the pain and fever, try not to excite him. And you can stay only a few minutes, except for the wife." She recognized Johnny Fontane as he went by her and her eyes opened wide. He gave her a faint smile of acknowledgment and she stared at him with frank invitation. He filed her away for future reference, then followed the others into the sick man's room.

Genco Abbandando had run a long race with death (долго состязался, бежал наперегонки со смертью; race – состязание, бег), and now, vanquished (побежденный), he lay exhausted (изможденный; to exhaust [ıg’zo:st] – исчерпывать, израсходовать /полностью/; изнурять) on the raised bed (на поднятой /в изголовье/ постели). He was wasted away to no more than a skeleton (от него остался не более как скелет; to waste – растрачивать), and what had once been vigorous black hair (густые черные волосы; vigorous [‘vıg∂r∂s] – сильный, энергичный) had turned into obscene stringy wisps (в неприличные, свисающие прядями, клочки, пучки; string – веревка, ремешок). Don Corleone said cheerily (ободряюще), "Genco, dear friend, I have brought my sons to pay their respects, and look, even Johnny, all the way from Hollywood."

The dying man raised his fevered eyes gratefully to the Don. He let the young men clasp his bony hand in their fleshy ones (дал молодым людям крепко пожать: «сжать, сдавить» свою костлявую ладонь в их мясистых ручищах). His wife and daughters ranged themselves along his bed (встали, выстроились в ряд вдоль его кровати), kissing his cheek, taking his other hand in turn (по очереди).

The Don pressed his old friend's hand. He said comfortingly, "Hurry up and get better (поспеши и выздоравливай = давай скорее выздоравливай) and we'll take a trip back to Italy together to our old village (отправимся вместе; trip – поездка, путешествие). We'll play boccie in front of the wineshop (поиграем в /деревянные/ шары /итал./) like our fathers before us."

The dying man shook his head. He motioned the young men and his family away from his bedside (показал жестом, чтобы отошли от его кровати); with the other bony claw he hung fast to the Don (другой костлявой лапой он крепко, тесно притянул себя: «повис» к Дону; claw – коготь; клешня; лапа). He tried to speak. The Don put his head down and then sat on the bedside chair. Genco Abbandando was babbling about their childhood. Then his coal-black eyes became sly (затем его черные, как уголь, глаза сделались хитрыми). He whispered. The Don bent closer (наклонился ближе; to bend). The others in the room were astonished (удивлены, изумлены [∂s’tonı∫]) to see tears running down Don Corleone's face as he shook his head. The quavering voice (дрожащий голос; to quaver [‘kweıv∂] – дрожать, вибрировать) grew louder (становился громче; to grow – расти), filling the room (наполняя, заполняя комнату). With a tortured, superhuman effort (со сверхчеловеческим = нечеловеческим усилием ['ef∂t]), Abbandando lifted his head off his pillow, eyes unseeing, and pointed a skeletal forefinger (указал указательным пальцем) at the Don. "Godfather, Godfather," he called out blindly, "save me from death, I beg of you (спаси меня от смерти, умоляю тебя). My flesh is burning off my bones (моя плоть «сгорает с моих костей») and I can feel the worms eating away my brain (чувствую червей, пожирающих мой мозг). Godfather, cure me (исцели меня), you have the power, dry the tears of my poor wife (осуши слезы). In Corleone we played together as children and now will you let me die when I fear hell for my sins (когда я боюсь ада за свои грехи)?"

The Don was silent. Abbandando said, "It is your daughter's wedding day, you cannot refuse me."

The Don spoke quietly, gravely, to pierce through the blasphemous delirium (чтобы пробиться сквозь богохульствующий бред; to pierce [‘pı∂s] – прокалывать, пронзать; [‘blæsfım∂s]). "Old friend," he said, "I have no such powers. If I did I would be more merciful than God (более милосердным, милосерднее Бога), believe me. But don't fear death and don't fear hell. I will have a mass said for your soul every night and every morning (закажу мессу). Your wife and your children will pray for you. How can God punish you (наказать) with so many pleas for mercy (при стольких просьбах о помиловании, снисхождении; plea – судебный акт, тяжба; обращение одной из сторон /в суде/; аппеляция)?"

The skeleton face took on a cunning expression (хитрое, коварное выражение; cunning – знание, познания /устар./; хитрость, умение; коварство) that was obscene. Abbandando said slyly (лукаво), "It's been arranged then (значит, все улажено)?"

When the Don answered, his voice was cold, without comfort. "You blaspheme (богохульствуешь [blæs’fi:m]). Resign yourself (смирись [ri'zain])."

Abbandando fell back on the pillow (упал на подушку). His eyes lost their wild gleam of hope (утратили слабый свет, проблеск надежды; to gleam – мерцать). The nurse came back into the room and started shooing them out (выгонять, выпроваживать; shoo – кыш; to shoo – вспугивать, прогонять /птиц/) in a very matter-of-fact way (очень по-деловому, сухо = строго). The Don got up but Abbandando put out his hand. "Godfather," he said, "stay here with me and help me meet death. Perhaps if He sees you near me He will be frightened (испугается: «будет напуган») and leave me in peace. Or perhaps you can say a word, pull a few strings (замолвишь словечко, потянешь за ниточки /как в кукольном театре/ = используешь связи), eh?" The dying man winked as if he were mocking the Don (подмигнул, как будто подшучивал, насмехался), now not really serious. "You're brothers in blood («братья по крови» = побратимы), after all." Then, as if fearing the Don would be offended (словно опасаясь, что Дон будет оскорблен), he clutched at his hand (схватил, зажал). "Stay with me, let me hold your hand. We'll outwit that bastard (перехитрим этого ублюдка; wit – разум, ум) as we've outwitted others. Godfather, don't betray me (не предавай меня)."

The Don motioned the other people out of the room. They left. He took the withered claw (высохшую; to wither [‘wıð∂] – вянуть; сохнуть) of Genco Abbandando in his own two broad hands. Softly, reassuringly (мягко, успокаивающе; to reassure [rı∂’∫u∂] – уверять, заверять; успокаивать), he comforted his friend, as they waited for death together. As if the Don could truly snatch the life of Genco Abbandando back (выхватить, вырвать) from that most foul (от этого, у этого самого грязного, подлого [faul]) and criminal traitor to man (и преступного предателя человека).

Genco Abbandando had run a long race with death, and now, vanquished, he lay exhausted on the raised bed. He was wasted away to no more than a skeleton, and what had once been vigorous black hair had turned into obscene stringy wisps. Don Corleone said cheerily, "Genco, dear friend, I have brought my sons to pay their respects, and look, even Johnny, all the way from Hollywood."

The dying man raised his fevered eyes gratefully to the Don. He let the young men clasp his bony hand in their fleshy ones. His wife and daughters ranged themselves along his bed, kissing his cheek, taking his other hand in turn.

The Don pressed his old friend's hand. He said comfortingly, "Hurry up and get better and we'll take a trip back to Italy together to our old village. We'll play boccie in front of the wineshop like our fathers before us."

The dying man shook his head. He motioned the young men and his family away from his bedside; with the other bony claw he hung fast to the Don. He tried to speak. The Don put his head down and then sat on the bedside chair. Genco Abbandando was babbling about their childhood. Then his coal-black eyes became sly. He whispered. The Don bent closer. The others in the room were astonished to see tears running down Don Corleone's face as he shook his head. The quavering voice grew louder, filling the room. With a tortured, superhuman effort, Abbandando lifted his head off his pillow, eyes unseeing, and pointed a skeletal forefinger at the Don. "Godfather, Godfather," he called out blindly, "save me from death, I beg of you. My flesh is burning off my bones and I can feel the worms eating away my brain. Godfather, cure me, you have the power, dry the tears of my poor wife. In Corleone we played together as children and now will you let me die when I fear hell for my sins?"

The Don was silent. Abbandando said, "It is your daughter's wedding day, you cannot refuse me."

The Don spoke quietly, gravely, to pierce through the blasphemous delirium. "Old friend," he said, "I have no such powers. If I did I would be more merciful than God, believe me. But don't fear death and don't fear hell. I will have a mass said for your soul every night and every morning. Your wife and your children will pray for you. How can God punish you with so many pleas for mercy?"

The skeleton face took on a cunning expression that was obscene. Abbandando said slyly, "It's been arranged then?"

When the Don answered, his voice was cold, without comfort. "You blaspheme. Resign yourself."

Abbandando fell back on the pillow. His eyes lost their wild gleam of hope. The nurse came back into the room and started shooing them out in a very matter-of-fact way. The Don got up but Abbandando put out his hand. "Godfather," he said, "stay here with me and help me meet death. Perhaps if He sees you near me He will be frightened and leave me in peace. Or perhaps you can say a word, pull a few strings, eh?" The dying man winked as if he were mocking the Don, now not really serious. "You're brothers in blood, after all." Then, as if fearing the Don would be offended, he clutched at his hand. "Stay with me, let me hold your hand. We'll outwit that bastard as we've outwitted others. Godfather, don't betray me."

The Don motioned the other people out of the room. They left. He took the withered claw of Genco Abbandando in his own two broad hands. Softly, reassuringly, he comforted his friend, as they waited for death together. As if the Don could truly snatch the life of Genco Abbandando back from that most foul and criminal traitor to man.

The wedding day of Connie Corleone ended well for her. Carlo Rizzi performed his duties as a bridegroom (исполнил свои обязанности /в качестве/ жениха) with skill and vigor (с мастерством и энергией ['vıg∂]), spurred on by the contents of the bride's gift purse (подстегиваемый содержимым кошелька-приданого невесты; spur – шпора) which totaled up (доходило до, насчитывало; to total [‘t∂ut∂l]) to over twenty thousand dollars. The bride, however, gave up her virginity with a great deal more willingness (отдала свою девственность с гораздо большей охотой) than she gave up her purse. For the latter, he had to blacken one of her eyes (за последний = чтобы получить последний, ему пришлось подбить ей глаз).