Irish and American and abused the workmen in the foulest language, which Vito always

bore stone-faced as if he did not comprehend, though he understood English very well

despite his accent.

One evening as Vito was having supper with his family there was a knock on the

window that led to the open air shaft (шахта; проход) that separated them from the next

building. When Vito pulled aside the curtain he saw to his astonishment one of the

young men in the neighborhood, Peter Clemenza, leaning out from a window on the

other side of the air shaft. He was extending a white-sheeted bundle.

"Hey, paisan," Clemenza said. "Hold these for me until I ask for them. Hurry up."

Automatically Vito reached over the empty space of the air shaft and took the bundle.

Clemenza's face was strained and urgent. He was in some sort of trouble and Vito's

helping action was instinctive. But when he untied the bundle in his kitchen, there were

five oily guns staining the white cloth. He put them in his bedroom closet and waited. He

learned that Clemenza had been taken away by the police. They must have been

knocking on his door when he handed the guns over the air shaft.

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Vito never said a word to anyone and of course his terrified wife dared not open her

lips even in gossip for fear her own husband would be sent to prison. Two days later

Peter Clemenza reappeared in the neighborhood and asked Vito casually, "Do you

have my goods still?"

Vito nodded. He was in the habit of talking little.

37

Clemenza came up to his tenement flat and was given a glass of wine while Vito dug

the bundle out of his bedroom closet.

Clemenza drank his wine, his heavy good-natured face alertly watching Vito. "Did you

look inside?"

Vito, his face impassive, shook his head. "I'm not interested in things that don't

concern me," he said.

They drank wine together the rest of the evening. They found each other congenial.

Clemenza was a storyteller; Vito Corleone was a listener to storytellers. They became

casual friends.

A few days later Clemenza asked the wife of Vito Corleone if she would like a fine rug

for her living room floor. He took Vito with him to help carry the rug. Clemenza led Vito

to an apartment house with two marble pillars and a white marble stoop (крыльцо со

ступенями; открытая веранда). He used a key to open the door and they were inside

a plush apartment. Clemenza grunted, "Go on the other side of the room and help me

roll it up."

The rug was a rich red wool. Vito Corleone was astonished by Clemenza's generosity.

Together they rolled the rug into a pile and Clemenza took one end while Vito took the

other. They lifted it and started carrying it toward the door.

At that moment the apartment bell rang. Clemenza immediately dropped the rug and

strode to the window. He pulled the drape aside slightly and what he saw made him

draw a gun from inside his jacket. It was only at that moment the astonished Vito

Corleone realized that they were stealing the rug from some stranger's apartment.

The apartment bell rang again. Vito went up alongside Clemenza so that he too could

see what was happening. At the door was a uniformed policeman. As they watched, the

policeman gave the doorbell a final push, then shrugged and walked away down the

marble steps and down the street.

Clemenza grunted in a satisfied way and said, "Come on, let's go." He picked up his

end of the rug and Vito picked up the other end. The policeman had barely turned the

comer before they were edging out the heavy oaken door and into the street with the

rug between them. Thirty minutes later they were cutting the rug to fit the living room of

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38

Vito Corleone's apartment. They had enough left over for the bedroom. Clemenza was

an expert workman and from the pockets of his wide, ill-fitting jacket (even then he liked

to wear loose clothes though he was not so fat), he had the necessary carpet-cutting

tools.

Time went on, things did not improve. The Corleone family could not eat the beautiful

rug. Very well, there was no work, his wife and children must starve. Vito took some

parcels of food from his friend Genco while he thought things out. Finally he was

approached by Clemenza and Tessio, another young tough of the neighborhood. They

were men who thought well of him, the way he carried himself, and they knew he was

desperate. They proposed to him that he become one of their gang which specialized in

hijacking (to hijack – грабить) trucks of silk dresses after those trucks were loaded up at

the factory on 31st Street. There was no risk. The truck drivers were sensible

workingmen who at the sight of a gun flopped (быстренько спрыгнули; to flop –

шлепнуться, плюхнуться) on the sidewalk like angels while the hijackers drove the

truck away to be unloaded at a friend's warehouse. Some of the merchandise would be

sold to an Italian wholesaler (оптовый торговец), part of the loot (добыча,

награбленное) would be sold door-to-door in the Italian neighborhoods – Arthur

Avenue in the Bronx, Mulberry Street, and the Chelsea district in Manhattan – all to poor

Italian families looking for a bargain, whose daughters could never be able to afford

such fine apparel (наряд, одеяние [∂‘pжr∂l]). Clemenza and Tessio needed Vito to

drive since they knew he chauffeured the Abbandando grocery store delivery truck. In

1919, skilled automobile drivers were at a premium (в большом почете, в большом

спросе).

Against his better judgment, Vito Corleone accepted their offer. The clinching

(решающий; clinch – зажим, скоба; заклепка; to clinch – прибивать гвоздем, загибая

его шляпку, заклепывать; окончательно решать, договариваться) argument was

that he would clear (получить чистую прибыль) at least a thousand dollars for his

share of the job. But his young companions struck him as rash, the planning of the job

haphazard (наудачу; случайно), the distribution of the loot foolhardy (рискованный,

безрассудный). Their whole approach was too careless for his taste. But he thought

them of good, sound character. Peter Clemenza, already burly, inspired a certain trust,

and the lean saturnine (мрачный, угрюмый ['sжt∂:naın]) Tessio inspired confidence.

The job itself went off without a hitch (зацепка, заминка). Vito Corleone felt no fear,

much to his astonishment, when his two comrades flashed guns and made the driver

get out of the silk truck. He was also impressed with the coolness of Clemenza and

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Tessio. They didn't get excited but joked with the driver, told him if he was a good lad

39

they'd send his wife a few dresses. Because Vito thought it stupid to peddle (торговать

вразнос) dresses himself and so gave his whole share of stock to the fence (забор,

ограда; укрыватель или скупщик краденого /сленг/), he made only seven hundred

dollars. But this was a considerable sum of money in 1919.

The next day on the street, Vito Corleone was stopped by the cream-suited, white-

fedoraed Fanucci. Fanucci was a brutal-looking man and he had done nothing to

disguise the circular scar that stretched in a white semicircle from ear to ear, looping

(loop – петля; to loop – делать петлю) under his chin. He had heavy black brows and

coarse features which, when he smiled, were in some odd way amiable.

He spoke with a very thick Sicilian accent. "Ah, young fellow," he said to Vito. "People

tell me you're rich. You and your two friends. But don't you think you've treated me a

little shabbily (shabby – протертый, потрепанный; низкий, подлый)? After all, this is

my neighborhood and you should let me wet my beak (клюв)." He used the Sicilian

phrase of the Mafia, "Fari vagnari a pizzu." Pizzu means the beak of any small bird such

as a canary. The phrase itself was a demand for part of the loot.

As was his habit, Vito Corleone did not answer. He understood the implication (намек,

подтекст; to implicate – вовлекать, впутывать; заключать в себе, подразумевать)

immediately and was waiting for a definite demand.

Fanucci smiled at him, showing gold teeth and stretching his noose-like scar tight

around his face. He mopped his face with a handkerchief and unbuttoned his jacket for

a moment as if to cool himself but really to show the gun he carried stuck in the

waistband of his comfortably wide trousers. Then he sighed and said, "Give me five

hundred dollars and I'll forget the insult. After all, young people don't know the

courtesies due a man like myself."

Vito Corleone smiled at him and even as a young man still unblooded (еще не

запятнанный кровью), there was something so chilling in his smile that Fanucci

hesitated a moment before going on. "Otherwise the police will come to see you, your

wife and children will be shamed and destitute (останется без средств; destitute –

лишенный средств /к существованию/). Of course if my information as to your gains is

incorrect I'll dip (погружать /в жидкость/, окунать) my beak just a little. But no less than

three hundred dollars. And don't try to deceive me."

For the first time Vito Corleone spoke. His voice was reasonable, showed no anger. It

was courteous, as befitted a young man speaking to an older man of Fanucci's

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eminence (высота; высокое положение). He said softly, "My two friends have my

share of the money, I'll have to speak to them."

40

Fanucci was reassured. "You can tell your two friends that I expect them to let me wet

my beak in the same manner. Don't be afraid to tell them," he added reassuringly.

"Clemenza and I know each other well, he understands these things. Let yourself be

guided by him. He has more experience in these matters."

Vito Corleone shrugged. He tried to look a little embarrassed. "Of course," he said.

"You understand this is all new to me. Thank you for speaking to me as a godfather."

Fanucci was impressed. "You're a good fellow," he said. He took Vito's hand and

clasped it in both of his hairy ones. "You have respect," he said. "A fine thing in the

young. Next time speak to me first, eh? Perhaps I can help you in your plans."

In later years Vito Corleone understood that what had made him act in such a perfect,

tactical way with Fanucci was the death of his own hot-tempered father who had been

killed by the Mafia in Sicily. But at that time all he felt was an icy rage that this man

planned to rob him of the money he had risked his life and freedom to earn. He had not

been afraid. Indeed he thought, at that moment, that Fanucci was a crazy fool. From

what he had seen of Clemenza, that burly Sicilian would sooner give up his life than a

penny of his loot. After all, Clemenza had been ready to kill a policeman merely to steal

a rug. And the slender Tessio had the deadly air of a viper (гадюка ['vaıp∂]).

But later that night, in Clemenza's tenement apartment across the air shaft, Vito

Corleone received another lesson in the education he had just begun. Clemenza cursed,

Tessio scowled (to scowl [skaul] – хмуриться, смотреть сердито), but then both men

started talking about whether Fanucci would be satisfied with two hundred dollars.

Tessio thought he might.

Clemenza was positive. "No, that scarface bastard must have found out what we

made from the wholesaler who bought the dresses. Fanucci won't take a dime less than

three hundred dollars. We'll have to pay."