Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

believe in myself that much, nothing else matters. He would follow his father. He would

care for his children, his family, his world. But his children would grow in a different

world. They would be doctors, artists, scientists. Governors. Presidents. Anything at all.

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He would see to it that they joined the general family of humanity, but he, as a powerful

and prudent parent would most certainly keep a wary eye on that general family.

On the morning after the funeral, all the most important officials of the Corleone

Family assembled on the mall. Shortly before noon they were admitted into the empty

house of the Don. Michael Corleone received them.

They almost filled the corner library room. There were the two caporegimes,

Clemenza and Tessio; Rocco Lampone, with his reasonable, competent air; Carlo Rizzi,

very quiet, very much knowing his place; Tom Hagen forsaking his strictly legal role to

rally around in this crisis; Albert Neri trying to stay physically close to Michael, lighting

his new Don's cigarette, mixing his drink, all to show an unswerving loyalty despite the

recent disaster to the Corleone Family.

The death of the Don was a great misfortune for the Family. Without him it seemed

that half their strength was gone and almost all their bargaining power against the

Barzini-Tattaglia alliance. Everyone in the room knew this and they waited for what

Michael would say. In their eyes he was not yet the new Don; he had not earned the

position or the title. If the Godfather had lived, he might have assured his son's

succession; now it was by no means certain.

Michael waited until Neri had served drinks. Then he said quietly, "I just want to tell

everybody here that I understand how they feel. I know you all respected my father, but

now you have to worry about yourselves and your families. Some of you wonder how

what happened is going to affect the planning we've done and the promises I made.

Well, the answer to that is: nothing. Everything goes on as before."

Clemenza shook his great shaggy buffalo head. His hair was so iron gray and his

features, more deeply embedded in added layers of fat, were unpleasant. "The Barzinis

and Tattaglias are going to move in on us real hard, Mike. You gotta fight or have a 'sit-

down' with them." Everyone in the room noticed that Clemenza had not used a formal

form of address to Michael, much less the title of Don.

"Let's wait and see what happens," Michael said. "Let them break the peace first."

Tessio spoke up in his soft voice. "They already have, Mike. They opened up two

'books' in Brooklyn this morning. I got the word from the police captain who runs the

protection list at the station house. In a month I won't have a place to hang my hat in all

Brooklyn."

Michael stared at him thoughtfully. "Have you done anything about it?"

Tessio shook his small, ferretlike head. "No," he said. "I didn't want to give you any

problems."

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"Good," Michael said. "Just sit tight. And I guess that's what I want to say to all of you,

Just sit tight. Don't react to any provocation. Give me a few weeks to straighten things

out, to see which way the wind is going to blow. Then I'll make the best deal I can for

everybody here. Then we'll have a final meeting and make some final decisions."

He ignored their surprise and Albert Neri started ushering them out. Michael said

sharply, "Tom, stick around a few minutes."

Hagen went to the window that faced the mall. He waited until he saw the

caporegimes and Carlo Rizzo and Rocco Lampore being shepherded through the

guarded gate by Neri. Then he turned to Michael and said, "Have you got all the political

connections wired into you?"

Michael shook his head regretfully. "Not all. I needed about four more months. The

Don and I were working on it. But I've got all the judges, we did that first, and some of

the more important people in Congress. And the big party boys here in New York were

no problem, of course.

The Corleone Family is a lot stronger than anybody thinks, but I hoped to make it

foolproof." He smiled at Hagen. "I guess you've figured everything out by now."

Hagen nodded. "It wasn't hard. Except why you wanted me out of the action. But I put

on my Sicilian hat and I finally figured that too."

Michael laughed. "The old man said you would. But that's a luxury I can't afford

anymore. I need you here. At least for the next few weeks. You better phone Vegas and

talk to your wife. Just tell her a few weeks."

Hagen said musingly, "How do you think they'll come at you?"

Michael sighed. "The Don instructed me. Through somebody close. Barzini will set me

up through somebody close that, supposedly, I won't suspect."

Hagen smiled at him. "Somebody like me."

Michael smiled back. "You're Irish, they won't trust you."

"I'm German-American," Hagen said.

"To them that's Irish," Michael said. "They won't go to you and they won't go to Neri

because Neri was a cop. Plus both of you are too close to me. They can't take that