Английский язык с Крестным Отцом
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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.
Мультиязыковой
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
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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