Английский язык с Крестным Отцом
Шрифт:
in anything so sordid (грязный, низкий, подлый)."
Kay looked up in surprise. "How did you know Mike went to Dartmouth?"
Her mother said complacently (complacent [km'pleisnt] – благодушный), "You
young people are so mysterious, you think you're so clever. We've known about him all
along, but of course we couldn't bring it up until you did."
"But how did you know?" Kay asked. She still couldn't face her father now that he
knew about her and Mike sleeping together. So she didn't see the smile on his face
when he said, "We opened your mail, of course."
Kay was horrified and angry. Now she could face him. What he had done was more
shameful than her own sin. She could never believe it of him. "Father, you didn't, you
couldn't have."
Mr. Adams smiled at her. "I debated which was the greater sin, opening your mail, or
going in ignorance of some hazard my only child might be incurring (to incur [in'k:] –
подвергаться /чему-либо/;
Mrs. Adams said between mouthfuls of boiled chicken, "After all, my dear, you are
terribly innocent for your age. We had to be aware. And you never spoke about him."
For the first time Kay was grateful that Michael was never affectionate in his letters.
She was grateful that her parents hadn't seen some of her letters. "I never told you
about him because I thought you'd be horrified about his family."
"We were," Mr. Adams said cheerfully. "By the way, has Michael gotten in touch with
you?"
Kay shook her head. "I don't believe he's guilty of anything."
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She saw her parents exchange a glance over the table. Then Mr. Adams said gently,
"If he's not guilty and he's vanished, then perhaps something else happened to him."
At first Kay didn't understand. Then she got up from the table and ran to her room.
Three days later Kay Adams got out of a taxi in front of the Corleone mall in Long
Beach. She had phoned, she was expected. Tom Hagen met her at the door and she
was disappointed that it was him. She knew he would tell her nothing.
In the living room he gave her a drink. She had seen a couple of other men lounging
around the house but not Sonny. She asked Tom Hagen directly, "Do you know where
Mike is? Do you know where I can get in touch with him?"
Hagen said smoothly, "We know he's all right but we don't know where he is right now.
When he heard about that captain being shot he was afraid they'd accuse him. So he
just decided to disappear. He told me he'd get in touch in a few months."
The story was not only false but meant to be seen through, he was giving her that much.
"Did that captain really break his jaw?" Kay asked.
"I'm afraid that's true," Tom said. "But Mike was never a vindictive (мстительный
[vin’diktiv]) man. I'm sure that had nothing to do with what happened."
Kay opened her purse and took out a letter. "Will you deliver this to him if he gets in
touch with you?"
Hagen shook his head. "If I accepted that letter and you told a court of law I accepted
that letter, it might be interpreted as my having knowledge of his whereabouts
(местонахождение). Why don't you just wait a bit? I'm sure Mike will get in touch."
She finished her drink and got up to leave. Hagen escorted her to the hall but as he
opened the door, a woman came in from outside. A short, stout woman dressed in black.
Kay recognized her as Michael's mother. She held out her hand and said, "How are you,
Mrs. Corleone?"
The woman's small black eyes darted at her for a moment, then the wrinkled, leathery,
olive-skinned face broke into a small curt smile of greeting that was yet in some curious
way truly friendly. "Ah, you Mikey's little girl," Mrs. Corleone said. She had a heavy
Italian accent, Kay could barely understand her. "You eat something?" Kay said no,
meaning she didn't want anything to eat, but Mrs. Corleone turned furiously on Tom
Hagen and berated (to berate –
even give this poor girl coffee, you disgrazia." She took Kay by the hand, the old
woman's hand surprisingly warm and alive, and led her into the kitchen. "You have
coffee and eat something, then somebody drive you home. A nice girl like you, I don't
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want you to take the train." She made Kay sit down and bustled (to bustle – торопиться,
суетиться) around the kitchen, tearing off her coat and hat and draping them over a
chair. In a few seconds there was bread and cheese and salami on the table and coffee
perking (to perk – вскидывать голову; подаваться вперед; /здесь/ возвышаться,
быть установленым наверху) on the stove.
Kay said timidly, "I came to ask about Mike, I haven't heard from him. Mr. Hagen said
nobody knows where he is, that he'll turn up in a little while."
Hagen spoke quickly, "That's all we can tell her now, Ma."