Крестный отец

           Fanuccicamepromptlyatnineintheevening.VitoCorleonesetoutajugofhomemadewinethatClemenzahadgivenhim.

           Fanucciputhiswhitefedoraonthetablebesidethejugofwine.Heloosenedhisbroadmultifloweredtie,itstomatostainscamouflagedbythebrightpatterns.Thesummernightwashot,thegaslightfeeble.Itwasveryquietintheapartment.ButVitoCorleonewasicy.ToshowhisgoodfaithhehandedovertherollofbillsandwatchedcarefullyasFanucci,aftercountingit,tookoutawideleatherwalletandstuffedthemoneyinside.Fanuccisippedhisglassofwineandsaid,"Youstillowemetwohundreddollars."Hisheavy-browedfacewasexpressionless.

           VitoCorleonesaidinhiscoolreasonablevoice,"I’malittleshort,I’vebeenoutofwork.Letmeoweyouthemoneyforafewweeks."

           Thiswasapermissiblegambit.Fanuccihadthebulkofthemoneyandwouldwait.Hemightevenbepersuadedtotakenothingmoreortowaitalittlelonger.Hechuckledoverhiswineandsaid,"Ah,you’reasharpyoungfellow.HowisitI’venevernoticedyoubefore?You’retooquietachapforyourowninterest.Icouldfindsomeworkforyoutodothatwouldbeveryprofitable."

           VitoCorleoneshowedhisinterestwithapolitenodandfilleduptheman’sglassfromthepurplejug.ButFanuccithoughtbetterofwhathewasgoingtosayandrosefromhischairandshookVito’shand."Goodnight,youngfellow,"hesaid."Nohardfeelings,eh?IfIcaneverdoyouaserviceletmeknow.You’vedoneagoodjobforyourselftonight."