Impressed him even more, made it clear that Michael was the superior of the two men

who accompanied him.

Michael was no longer interested in his hike. They found a garage and hired a car and

driver to take them back to Corleone, and some time before supper, Dr. Taza must have

been informed by the shepherds of what had happened. That evening, sitting in the

garden, Dr. Taza said to Don Tommasino, "Our friend got hit by the thunderbolt today."

Don Tommasino did not seem surprised. He grunted. "I wish some of those young

fellows in Palermo would get a thunderbolt, maybe I could get some peace." He was

talking about the new-style Mafia chiefs rising in the big cities of Palermo and

challenging the power of old-regime stalwarts like himself.

Michael said to Tommasino, "I want you to tell those two sheep herders to leave me

alone Sunday. I'm going to go to this girl's family for dinner and I don't want them

hanging around."

Don Tommasino shook his head. "I'm responsible to your father for you, don't ask me

that. Another thing, I hear you've even talked marriage. I can't allow that until I've sent

somebody to speak to your father."

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Michael Corleone was very careful, this was after all a man of respect. "Don

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Tommasino, you know my father. He's a man who goes deaf when somebody says the

word no to him. And he doesn't get his hearing back until they answer him with a yes.

Well, he has heard my no many times. I understand about the two guards, I don't want

to cause you trouble, they can come with me Sunday, but if I want to marry I'll marry.

Surely if I don't permit my own father to interfere with my personal life it would be an

insult to him to allow you to do so."

The capo-mafioso sighed. "Well, then, marriage it will have to be. I know your

thunderbolt. She's a good girl from a respectable family. You can't dishonor them

without the father trying to kill you, and then you'll have to shed blood. Besides, I know

the family well, I can't allow it to happen."

Michael said, "She may not be able to stand the sight of me, and she's a very young

girl, she'll think me old." He saw the two men smiling at him. "I'll need some money for

presents and I think I'll need a car."

The Don nodded. "Fabrizzio will take care of everything, he's a clever boy, they taught

him mechanics in the navy. I'll give you some money in the morning and I'll let your

father know what's happening. That I must do."

Michael said to Dr. Taza, "Have you got anything that can dry up this damn snot

(сопли /груб./) always coming out of my nose? I can't have that girl seeing me wiping it

all the time."

Dr. Taza said, "I'll coat (покрывать) it with a drug before you have to see her. It

makes your flesh a little numb (онемелый [nΛm]) but, don't worry, you won't be kissing

her for a while yet." Both doctor and Don smiled at this witticism.

By Sunday, Michael had an Alfa Romeo, battered (to batter – сильно бить, колотить;

плющить /металл/) but serviceable. He had also made a bus trip to Palermo to buy

presents for the girl and her family. He had learned that the girl's name was Apollonia

and every night he thought of her lovely face and her lovely name. He had to drink a

good deal of wine to get some sleep and orders were given to the old women servants

in the house to leave a chilled bottle at his bedside. He drank it empty every night.

On Sunday, to the tolling of church bells that covered all of Sicily, he drove the Alfa

Romeo to the village and parked it just outside the cafй. Calo and Fabrizzio were in the

back seat with their luparas and Michael told them they were to wait in the cafй, they

were not to come to the house. The cafй was closed but Vitelli was there waiting for

them, leaning against the railing of his empty terrace.

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They shook hands all around and Michael took the three packages, the presents, and

trudged (идти с трудом, устало тащиться) up the hill with Vitelli to his home. This

proved to be larger than the usual village hut, the Vitellis were not poverty-stricken.

Inside the house was familiar with statues of the Madonna entombed in glass, votive

(исполненный по обету; ['v∂utıv]) lights flickering redly at their feet. The two sons were

waiting, also dressed in their Sunday black. They were two sturdy young men just out of

their teens but looking older because of their hard work on the farm. The mother was a

vigorous woman, as stout as her husband. There was no sign of the girl.

After the introductions, which Michael did not even hear, they sat in the room that

might possibly have been a living room or just as easily the formal dining room. It was

cluttered with all kinds of furniture and not very large but for Sicily it was middle-class

splendor.

Michael gave Signor Vitelli and Signora Vitelli their presents. For the father it was a

gold cigar-cutter, for the mother a bolt (кусок, рулон /холста, шелковой материи/) of

the finest cloth purchasable in Palermo. He still had one package for the girl. His

presents were received with reserved thanks. The gifts were a little too premature, he

should not have given anything until his second visit.

The father said to him, in man-to-man country fashion, "Don't think we're so of no

account to welcome strangers into our house so easily. But Don Tommasino vouched

for you personally and nobody in this province would ever doubt the word of that good

man. And so we make you welcome. But I must tell you that if your intentions are

serious about my daughter, we will have to know a little more about you and your family.

You can understand, your family is from this country."

Michael nodded and said politely, "I will tell you anything you wish to know anytime."

Signor Vitelli held up a hand. "I'm not a nosy (носатый; любопытный) man. Let's see

if it's necessary first. Right now you're welcome in my house as a friend of Don

Tommasino."

Despite the drug painted inside his nose, Michael actually smelled the girl's presence

in the room. He turned and she was standing in the arched doorway that led to the back

of the house. The smell was of fresh flowers and lemon blossoms but she wore nothing

in her hair of jet black curls, nothing on her plain severe black dress, obviously her

Sunday best. She gave him a quick glance and a tiny smile before she cast her eyes

down demurely and sat down next to her mother.

Again Michael felt that shortness of breath, that flooding through his body of

something that was not so much desire as an insane possessiveness. He understood

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163

for the first time the classical jealousy of the Italian male. He was at that moment ready

to kill anyone who touched this girl, who tried to claim her, take her away from him. He

wanted to own her as wildly as a miser (скупец, скряга) wants to own gold coins, as

hungrily as a sharecropper (испольщик, издольщик) wants to own his own land.

Nothing was going to stop him from owning this girl, possessing her, locking her in a

house and keeping her prisoner only for himself. He didn't want anyone even to see her.

When she turned to smile at one of her brothers Michael gave that young man a

murderous look without even realizing it. The family could see it was a classical case of

the "thunderholt" and they were reassured. This young man would be putty (оконная

замазка; шпатлевка; послушное орудие, игрушка /в чьих-либо руках/) in their

daughter's hands until they were married. After that of course things would change but it

wouldn't matter.

Michael had bought himself some new clothes in Palermo and was no longer the

roughly dressed peasant, and it was obvious to the family that he was a Don of some

kind. His smashed face did not make him as evil-looking as he believed; because his

other profile was so handsome it made the disfigurement interesting even. And in any

case this was a land where to be called disfigured you had to compete with a host of

men who had suffered extreme physical misfortune.

Michael looked directly at the girl, the lovely ovals of her face. Her lips now he could

see were almost blue so dark was the blood pulsating in them. He said, not daring to

speak her name, "I saw you by the orange groves the other day. When you ran away. I

hope I didn't frighten you?"

The girl raised her eyes to him for just a fraction. She shook her head. But the

loveliness of those eyes had made Michael look away. The mother said tartly (tart –

кислый, терпкий, едкий; резкий, колкий /об ответе или возражении/), "Apollonia,

speak to the poor fellow, he's come miles to see you," but the girl's long jet lashes

remained closed like wings over her eyes. Michael handed her the present wrapped in

gold paper and the girl put it in her lap. The father said, "Open it, girl," but her hands did

not move. Her hands were small and brown, an urchin's hands (urchin – мальчишка,

пострел). The mother reached over and opened the package impatiently, yet careful

not to tear the precious paper. The red velvet jeweler's box gave ber pause, she had

never held such a thing in her hands and didn't know how to spring its catch (запор,

задвижка). But she got it open on pure instinct and then took out the present.

It was a heavy gold chain to be worn as a necklace, and it awed them not only

because of its obvious value but because a gift of gold in this society was also a

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164

statement of the most serious intentions. It was no less than a proposal of matrimony, or

rather the signal that there was the intention to propose matrimony. They could no

longer doubt the seriousness of this stranger. And they could not doubt his substance

(вещество, материя; имущество, состояние).

Apollonia still had not touched her present. Her mother held it up for her to see and

she raised those long lashes for a moment and then she looked directly at Michael, her

doelike brown eyes grave, and said, "Grazia." It was the first time he had heard her

voice.

It had all the velvety softness of youth and shyness and it set Michael's ears ringing.

He kept looking away from her and talking to the father and mother simply because

looking at her confused him so much. But he noticed that despite the conservative

looseness of her dress her body almost shone through the cloth with sheer sensuality.

And he noticed the darkening of her skin blushing, the dark creamy skin, going darker

with the blood surging to her face.

Finally Michael rose to go and the family rose too. They said their good-byes formally,

the girl at last confronting him as they shook hands, and he felt the shock of her skin on

his skin, her skin warm and rough, peasant skin. The father walked down the hill with

him to his car and invited him to Sunday dinner the next week. Michael nodded but he

knew he coudn't wait a week to see the girl again.

He didn't. The next day, without his shepherds, he drove to the village and sat on the

garden terrace of the cafй to chat with her father. Signor Vitelli took pity on him and sent

for his wife and daughter to come down to the cafй to join them. This meeting was less

awkward. The girl Apollonia was less shy, and spoke more. She was dressed in her

everyday print frock which suited her coloring much better.

The next day the same thing happened. Only this time Apollonia was wearing the gold

chain he had given her. He smiled at her then, knowing that this was a signal to him. He

walked with her up the hill, her mother close behind them. But it was impossible for the

two young people to keep their bodies from brushing against each other and once

Apollonia stumbled and fell against him so that he had to hold her and her body so

warm and alive in his hands started a deep wave of blood rising in his body. They could

not see the mother behind them smiling because her daughter was a mountain goat and

had not stumbled on this path since she was an infant in diapers. And smiling because

this was the only way this young man was going to get his hands on her daughter until

the marriage.

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This went on for two weeks. Michael brought her presents every time he came and

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gradually she became less shy. But they could never meet without a chaperone being

present. She was just a village girl, barely literate, with no idea of the world, but she had

a freshness, an eagerness for life that, with help of the language barrier, made her

seem interesting. Everything went very swiftly at Michael's request. And because the

girl was not only fascinated by him but knew he must be rich, a wedding date was set

for the Sunday two weeks away.

Now Don Tommasino took a hand. He had received word from America that Michael

was not subject to orders but that all elementary precautions should be taken. So Don

Tommasino appointed himself the parent of the bridegroom to insure the presence of

his own bodyguards. Calo and Fabrizzio were also members of the wedding party from

Corleone as was Dr. Taza. The bride and groom would live in Dr. Taza's villa

surrounded by its stone wall.

The wedding was the usual peasant one. The villagers stood in the streets and threw

flowers as the bridal party, principals and guests, went on foot from the church to the

bride's home. The wedding procession pelted (to pelt – бросать /в кого-либо/,

забрасывать) the neighbors with sugar-coated almonds, the traditional wedding

candies, and with candies left over made sugary white mountains on the bride's

wedding bed, in this case only a symbolic one since the first night would be spent in the