Johnny paced up and down the room. "I was crazy about that bitch. The biggest star in Hollywood. She looks like an angel. And you know what she does after a picture? If the makeup man does a good job on her face, she lets him bang her. If the cameraman made her look extra good, she brings him into her dressing room and gives him a screw. Anybody. She uses her body like I use the loose change in my pocket for a tip. A whore made for the devil."

Don Corleone curtly broke in. "How is your family?"

Johnny sighed. "I took care of them. After the divorce I gave Ginny and the kids more than the courts said I should. I go see them once a week. I miss them. Sometimes I think I'm going crazy." He took another drink. "Now my second wife laughs at me. She can't understand my being jealous. She calls me an old-fashioned guinea, she makes fun of my singing. Before I left I gave her a nice beating but not in the face because she was making a picture. I gave her cramps, I punched her on the arms and legs like a kid and she kept laughing at me." He lit a cigarette. "So, Godfather, right now, life doesn't seem worth living."

Don Corleone said simply, "These are troubles I can't help you with." He paused, then asked, "What's the matter with your voice?"

All the assured charm, the self-mockery, disappeared from Johnny Fontane's face. He said almost brokenly, "Godfather, I can't sing anymore, something happened to my throat, the doctors don't know what." Hagen and the Don looked at him with surprise, Johnny had always been so tough. Fontane went on. "My two pictures made a lot of money. I was a big star. Now they throw me out. The head of the studio always hated my guts and now he's paying me off."

Don Corleone stood before his godson and asked grimly, "Why doesn't this man like you?"

"I used to sing those songs for the liberal organizations, you know, all that stuff you never liked me to do. Well, Jack Woltz didn't like it either. He called me a Communist, but he couldn't make it stick. Then I snatched a girl he had saved for himself. It was strictly a one-night stand and she came after me. What the hell could I do? Then my whore second wife throws me out. And Ginny and the kids won't take me back unless I come crawling on my hands and knees, and I can't sing anymore. Godfather, what the hell can I do?"

Don Corleone's face had become cold without a hint of sympathy (без намека на сочувствие). He said contemptuously (презрительно; contemptuous [k∂n’temptju∂s] – презрительный; contempt – презрение), "You can start by acting like a man (можешь начать с того, чтобы вести себя: «действовать» как мужчина)." Suddenly anger contorted his face (неожиданно гнев исказил его лицо). He shouted. "LIKE A MAN!" He reached over the desk and grabbed Johnny Fontane by the hair of his head (схватил) in a gesture that was savagely affectionate (жестом, который был «по-дикому сердечным»). "By Christ in heaven (Боже ты мой: «/клянусь/ Христом в небесах»), is it possible that you spent so much time in my presence (провел столько времени в моем обществе: «присутствии») and turned out no better than this (и вот что из тебя получилось: «и получился не лучше, чем это»; to turn out – выворачивать наружу; стать, делаться)? A Hollywood finocchio (пиноккьо = кукла) who weeps and begs for pity (умоляет о жалости)? Who cries out like a woman – 'What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?' "

The mimicry of the Don was so extraordinary, so unexpected, that Hagen and Johnny were startled into laughter (не удержались от смеха; to startle – испугать, поразить; вздрагивать, бросаться в сторону /о лошади/; побуждать / к действию/). Don Corleone was pleased. For a moment he reflected on how much he loved this godson. How would his own three sons have reacted to such a tongue-lashing (отреагировали бы на такое «бичевание языком»; lash – плеть, бич)? Santino would have sulked (дулся бы, был бы сердит, угрюм) and behaved badly for weeks afterward (и дурно бы себя вел в течение /нескольких/ недель после этого). Fredo would have been cowed (был бы запуган). Michael would have given him a cold smile and gone out of the house, not to be seen for months. But Johnny, ah, what a fine chap he was (чудный парень), smiling now, gathering strength (собирая силу, набираясь силы), knowing already the true purpose of his Godfather (истинную цель [‘p∂:p∂s]).

Don Corleone went on. "You took the woman of your boss, a man more powerful than yourself, then you complain he won't help you (жалуешься [k∂m'pleın]). What nonsense. You left your family, your children without a father, to marry a whore and you weep because they don't welcome you back with open arms. The whore, you don't hit her in the face because she is making a picture, then you are amazed (удивляешься; amazed [∂'meızd] – изумлен, поражен) because she laughs at you. You lived like a fool and you have come to a fool's end."

Don Corleone paused to ask in a patient voice, "Are you willing to take my advice this time (готов ли, расположен ли принять мой совет)?"

Johnny Fontane shrugged. "I can't marry Ginny again, not the way she wants. I have to gamble (мне нужно = я не могу не играть /на деньги/; делать ставки), I have to drink, I have to go out with the boys. Beautiful broads (девки [bro:d]) run after me and I never could resist them (у меня никогда не получалось сопротивляться им [rı'zıst]). Then I used to feel like a heel (как подонок, подлец, обманщик /на воровском жаргоне/; heel – пятка) when I went back to Ginny. Christ, I can't go through all that crap again (через все это дерьмо)."