Илья Франк - Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

The Don raised his head inquiringly. Hagen said, "He's not on the list but Luca Brasi wants to see you. He understands it can't be public but he wants to congratulate you in person."

For the first time the Don seemed displeased. The answer was devious. "Is it necessary?" he asked.

Hagen shrugged. "You understand him better than I do. But he was very grateful that you invited him to the wedding. He never expected that. I think he wants to show his gratitude."

Don Corleone nodded and gestured that Luca Blasi should be brought to him.

In the garden Kay Adams was struck (поражена, ей бросилось в глаза: to strike – бить) by the violent fury (неистовой яростью; violent [‘vaı∂l∂nt] – неистовый, яростный; сильный, интенсивный) imprinted («запечатленной») on the face of Luca Brasi. She asked about him. Michael had brought Kay to the wedding so that she would slowly (чтобы она медленно = постепенно) and perhaps without too much of a shoсk, absorb the truth (восприняла правду; to absorb [∂’bso:b] – впитывать, абсорбировать, поглощать) about his father. But so far she seemed to regard (но пока, до сих пор она, казалось, рассматривала) the Don as a slightly (слегка, немного) unethical businessman. Michael decided to tell her part of the truth indirectly (опосредствованно: «не прямо» = решил намекнуть). He explained that Luca Brasi was one of the most feared men (которых больше всего боятся) in the Eastern underworld (в преступном мире Восточного побережья). His great talent, it was said, was that he could do a job of murder (убийства) all by himself (совершенно один, самостоятельно), without confederates (без соучастников [k∂n'fed∂rıt]), which automatically made discovery (раскрытие) and conviction (осуждение, признание виновным [k∂n'vık∫∂n]) by the law almost impossible. Michael grimaced and said, "I don't know whether all that stuff is true (правда ли все это; stuff – материя, вещество; нечто, некие вещи). I do know he is sort of a friend (что-то вроде друга) to my father."

For the first time Kay began to understand. She asked a little incredulously (недоверчиво [ın’kredjul∂slı]), "You're not hinting (уж не намекаешь ли ты) that a man like that works for your father?"

The hell with it (черт со всем этим = была не была), he thought. He said, straight out (совершенно прямо, не таясь), "Nearly fifteen years ago some people wanted to take over (забрать, прибрать к рукам; to take over – перенять должность; принять во владение) my father's oil importing business (импорт оливкового масла). They tried to kill him and nearly did (чуть не убили, у них почти получилось). Luca Brasi went after them (занялся ими; to go after – преследовать). The story is (в общем, расказывают) that he killed six men in two weeks and that ended the famous (знаменитую ['feım∂s]) olive (['olıv]) oil war." He smiled as if it were a joke (словно это была шутка).

Kay shuddered. "You mean your father was shot by gangsters (в него стреляли; to shoot)?"

5 "Fifteen years ago," Michael said. "Everything's been peaceful (мирно = спокойно) since then." He was afraid he had gone too far.

6 "You're trying to scare me (пытаешься напугать меня)," Kay said. "You just don't want me to marry you." She smiled at him and poked his ribs (ткнула в ребра) with her elbow (локтем ['elb∂u]). "Very clever."

Michael smiled back at her. "I want you to think about it," he said.

"Did he really kill six men?" Kay asked.

"That's what the newspapers claimed (утверждали)," Mike said. "Nobody ever proved it (никогда никому не удалось это доказать; ever – когда-либо). But there's another story about him that nobody ever tells. It's supposed to be so terrible (предполагается, что она /история/ столь ужасна) that even my father won't talk about it. Tom Hagen knows the story and he won't tell me. Once I kidded him (я подшучивал, поддразнивал), I said, 'When will I be old enough to hear that story about Luca?' and Tom said, 'When you're a hundred.’ Michael sipped (отхлебнул; sip – маленький глоток) his glass of wine. "That must be some story (это, наверное, та еще история). That must be some Luca."

In the garden Kay Adams was struck by the violet fury imprinted on the face of Luca Brasi. She asked about him. Michael had brought Kay to the wedding so that she would slowly and perhaps without too much of a shoсk, absorb the truth about his father. But so far she seemed to regard the Don as a slightly unethical businessman. Michael decided to tell her part of the truth indirectly. He explained that Luca Brasi was one of the most feared men in the Eastern underworld. His great talent, it was said, was that he could do a job of murder all by himself, without confederates, which automatically made discovery and conviction by the law almost impossible. Michael grimaced and said, "I don't know whether all that stuff is true. I do know he is sort of a friend to my father."

For the first time Kay began to understand. She asked a little incredulously, "You're not hinting that a man like that works for your father?"

The hell with it, he thought. He said, straight out, "Nearly fifteen years ago some people wanted to take over my father's oil importing business. They tried to kill him and nearly did. Luca Brasi went after them. The story is that he killed six men in two weeks and that ended the famous olive oil war." He smiled as if it were a joke.

Kay shuddered. "You mean your father was shot by gangsters?"

"Fifteen years ago," Michael said. "Everything's been peaceful since then." He was afraid he had gone too far.

"You're trying to scare me," Kay said. "You just don't want me to marry you." She smiled at him and poked his ribs with her elbow. "Very clever."

Michael smiled back at her. "I want you to think about it," he said.

"Did he really kill six men?" Kay asked.

"That's what the newspapers claimed," Mike said. "Nobody ever proved it. But there's another story about him that nobody ever tells. It's supposed to be so terrible that even my father won't talk about it. Tom Hagen knows the story and he won't tell me. Once I kidded him, I said, 'When will I be old enough to hear that story about Luca?' and Tom said, 'When you're a hundred.’ Michael sipped his glass of wine. "That must be some story. That must be some Luca."

Luca Brasi was indeed a man to frighten the devil in hell himself (способный испугать самого дьявола в аду [devl]). Short, squat (коренастый: «короткий и толстый»; to squat – сидеть на корточках), massive-skulled (с массивным черепом: skull), his presence sent out alarm bells of danger (его присутстствие сигнализировало = распространяло ощущение опасности: alarm [∂’lα:m] – сигнал тревоги; alarm bell – набат, сигнальный звонок). His face was stamped into a mask of fury (на его лицо «была нанесена /вечная/ печать» гнева, ярости, на его лице была застывшая маска гнева). The eyes were brown but with none of the warmth of that color (но безо всякого тепла, свойственного этому цвету), more a deadly tan (скорее мертвенный желто-коричневый цвет). The mouth was not so much cruel as lifeless (не столько жестоким, сколько безжизненным); thin, rubbery (резиновым = словно резиновым) and the color of veal (телятины).