Английский язык с Крестным Отцом
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waiter at the Luna Restaurant must be persuaded to identify Felix Bocchicchio as the
murderer. This would take some courage, as the description would change radically,
Felix Bocchicchio being much shorter and heavier. But Don Corleone would attend to
that. Also since the condemned man had been a great believer in higher education and
a college graduate, he would want his children to go to college. And so a sum of money
would have to be paid by Don Corleone that would take care of the children's college.
Then the Bocchicchio clan had to be reassured that there was no hope for clemency on
the original murders. The new confession of course would seal the man's already
almost certain doom (рок,
Everything was arranged, the money paid and suitable contact made with the
condemned man so that he could be instructed and advised. Finally the plan was
sprung and the confession made headlines in all the newspapers. The whole thing was
a huge success. But Don Corleone, cautious as always, waited until Felix Bocchicchio
was actually executed four months later before finally giving the command that Michael
Corleone could return home.
Сhapter 22
Lucy Mancini, a year after Sonny's death, still missed him terribly, grieved for him
more fiercely than any lover in any romance. And her dreams were not the insipid
(безвкусный, пресный; вялый, неинтересный [in'sipid]) dreams of a schoolgirl, her
longings (сильные, страстные желания, стремления; to long – страстно желать,
стремиться) not the longing of a devoted wife. She was not rendered desolate by the
loss of her "life's companion," or miss him because of his stalwart (стойкий, верный,
решительный ['sto:lwt]) character. She held no fond remembrances of sentimental
gifts, of girlish hero worship, his smile, the amused glint of his eyes when she said
something endearing (to endear [in’di] – заставить полюбить, внушить любовь) or
witty.
No. She missed him for the more important reason that he had been the only man in
the world who could make her body achieve the act of love. And, in her youth and
innocence, she still believed that he was the only man who could possibly do so.
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Now a year later she sunned herself in the balmy Nevada air. At her feet the slender,
blond young man was playing with her toes. They were at the side of the hotel pool for
the Sunday afternoon and despite the people all around them his hand was sliding up
her bare thigh.
"Oh, Jules, stop," Lucy said. "I thought doctors at least weren't as silly as other men."
Jules grinned at her. "I'm a Las Vegas doctor." He tickled the inside of her thigh and
was amazed how just a little thing like that could excite her so powerfully. It showed on
her face though she tried to hide it. She was really a very primitive, innocent girl. Then
why couldn't he make her come across (признаться,
that one out and never mind the crap about a lost love that could never be replaced.
This was living tissue here under his hand and living tissue required other living tissue.
Dr. Jules Segal decided he would make the big push tonight at his apartment. He'd
wanted to make her come across without any trickery but if trickery there had to be, he
was the man for it. All in the interests of science of course. And, besides, this poor kid
was dying for it.
"Jules, stop, please stop," Lucy said. Her voice was trembling.
Jules was immediately contrite (сокрушающийся, кающийся ['kontrait]). "OK, honey,"
he said. He put his head in her lap and using her soft thighs as a pillow, he took a little
nap. He was amused at her squirming (to squirm – извиваться, корчиться;
чувствовать неловкость, смущение), the heat that registered from her loins and when
she put her hand on his head to smooth his hair, he grasped her wrist playfully and held
it loverlike but really to feel her pulse. It was galloping. He'd get her tonight and he'd
solve the mystery, what the hell ever it was. Fully confident, Dr. Jules Segal fell asleep.
Lucy watched the people around the pool. She could never have imagined her life
would change so in less than two years. She never regretted her "foolishness" at
Connie Corleone's wedding. It was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to
her and she lived it over and over again in her dreams. As she lived over and over again
the months that followed.
Sonny had visited her once a week, sometimes more, never less. The days before
she saw him again her body was in torment (мука ['to:mnt]). Their passion for each
other was of the most elementary kind, undiluted (to dilute [‘dailju:t] – разжижать,
разбавлять) by poetry or any form of intellectualism. It was love of the coarsest nature,
a fleshly love, a love of tissue for opposing tissue.
When Sonny called to her he was coming she made certain there was enough liquor