Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

The family of Genco Abbandando, wife and three daughters dressed in black, clustered like a flock of plump crows on the white tile floor of the hospital corridor. When they saw Don Corleone come out of the elevator, they seemed to flutter up off the white tiles in an instinctive surge toward him for protection. The mother was regally stout in black, the daughters fat and plain. Mrs. Abbandando pecked at Don Corleone's cheek, sobbing, wailing, "Oh, what a saint you are, to come here on your daughter's wedding day."

Don Corleone brushed these thanks aside. "Don't I owe respect to such a friend, a friend who has been my right arm for twenty years?" He had understood immediately that the soon-to-be widow did not comprehend that her husband would die this night. Genco Abbandando had been in this hospital for nearly a year dying of his cancer and the wife had come to consider his fatal illness almost an ordinary part of life. Tonight was just another crisis. She babbled on. "Go in and see my poor husband," she said, "he asks for you. Poor man, he wanted to come to the wedding to show his respect but the doctor would not permit it. Then he said you would come to see him on this great day but I did not believe it possible. Ah, men understand friendship more than we women. Go inside, you will make him happy."

A nurse and a doctor came out of Genco Abbandando's private room. The doctor was a young man, serious-faced and with the air of one born to command, that is to say, the air of one who has been immensely rich all his life. One of the daughters asked timidly, "Dr. Kennedy, can we go to see him now?"

Dr. Kennedy looked over the large group with exasperation. Didn't these people realize that the man inside was dying and dying in torturous pain? It would be much better if everyone let him die in peace. "I think just the immediate family," be said in his exquisitely polite voice. He was surprised when the wife and daughters turned to the short, heavy man dressed in an awkwardly fitted tuxedo, as if to hear his decision.

The heavy man spoke. There was just the slightest trace of an Italian accent in his voice. "My dear doctor," said Don Corleone, "is it true he is dying?"

"Yes," said Dr. Kennedy.

"Then there is nothing more for you to do," said Don Corleone. "We will take up the burden. We will comfort him. We will close his eyes. We will bury him and weep at his funeral and afterwards we will watch over his wife and daughters." At hearing things put so bluntly, forcing her to understand, Mrs. Abbandando began to weep.

Dr. Kennedy shrugged. It was impossible to explain to these peasants. At the same time he recognized the crude justice in the man's remarks. His role was over. Still exquisitely polite, he said, "Please wait for the nurse to let you in, she has a few necessary things to do with the patient." He walked away from them down the corridor, his white coat flapping.

The nurse went back into the room and they waited. Finally she came out again, holding the door for them to enter. She whispered, "He's delirious with the pain and fever, try not to excite him. And you can stay only a few minutes, except for the wife." She recognized Johnny Fontane as he went by her and her eyes opened wide. He gave her a faint smile of acknowledgment and she stared at him with frank invitation. He filed her away for future reference, then followed the others into the sick man's room.

Genco Abbandando had run a long race with death (долго состязался, бежал наперегонки со смертью; race – состязание, бег), and now, vanquished (побежденный), he lay exhausted (изможденный; to exhaust [ıg’zo:st] – исчерпывать, израсходовать /полностью/; изнурять) on the raised bed (на поднятой /в изголовье/ постели). He was wasted away to no more than a skeleton (от него остался не более как скелет; to waste – растрачивать), and what had once been vigorous black hair (густые черные волосы; vigorous [‘vıg∂r∂s] – сильный, энергичный) had turned into obscene stringy wisps (в неприличные, свисающие прядями, клочки, пучки; string – веревка, ремешок). Don Corleone said cheerily (ободряюще), "Genco, dear friend, I have brought my sons to pay their respects, and look, even Johnny, all the way from Hollywood."

The dying man raised his fevered eyes gratefully to the Don. He let the young men clasp his bony hand in their fleshy ones (дал молодым людям крепко пожать: «сжать, сдавить» свою костлявую ладонь в их мясистых ручищах). His wife and daughters ranged themselves along his bed (встали, выстроились в ряд вдоль его кровати), kissing his cheek, taking his other hand in turn (по очереди).

The Don pressed his old friend's hand. He said comfortingly, "Hurry up and get better (поспеши и выздоравливай = давай скорее выздоравливай) and we'll take a trip back to Italy together to our old village (отправимся вместе; trip – поездка, путешествие). We'll play boccie in front of the wineshop (поиграем в /деревянные/ шары /итал./) like our fathers before us."