The third son, Michael Corleone, did not stand with his father and his two brothers but sat at a table in the most secluded corner of the garden. But even there he could not escape the attentions of the family friends.

Michael Corleone was the youngest son of the Don and the only child who had refused the great man's direction. He did not have the heavy, Cupid-shaped face of the other children, and his jet black hair was straight rather than curly. His skin was a clear olive-brown that would have been called beautiful in a girl. He was handsome in a delicate way. Indeed there had been a time when the Don had worried about his youngest son's masculinity. A worry that was put to rest when Michael Corleone became seventeen years old.

Now this youngest son sat at a table in the extreme corner of the garden to proclaim his chosen alienation from father and family. Beside him sat the American girl everyone had heard about but whom no one had seen until this day. He had, of course, shown the proper respect and introduced her to everyone at the wedding, including his family. They were not impressed with her. She was too thin, she was too fair, her face was too sharply intelligent for a woman, her manner too free for a maiden. Her name, too, was outlandish to their ears; she called herself Kay Adams. If she had told them that her family had settled in America two hundred years ago and her name was a common one, they would have shrugged.

Every guest noticed that the Don paid no particular attention to this third son. Michael had been his favorite before the war and obviously the chosen heir to run the family business when the proper moment came. He had all the quiet force and intelligence of his great father, the born instinct to act in such a way that men had no recourse but to respect him. But when World War II broke out, Michael Corleone volunteered for the Marine Corps. He defied his father's express command when he did so.

Don Corleone had no desire, no intention, of letting his youngest son be killed in the service of a power foreign to himself. Doctors had been bribed, secret arrangements had been made. A great deal of money had been spent to take the proper precautions. But Michael was twenty-one years of age and nothing could be done against his own willfulness. He enlisted and fought over the Pacific Ocean. He became a Captain and won medals. In 1944 his picture was printed in Life magazine with a photo layout of his deeds. A friend had shown Don Corleone the magazine (his family did not dare), and the Don had grunted disdainfully and said, "He performs those miracles for strangers."

When Michael Corleone was discharged early in 1945 to recover from a disabling wound, he had no idea that his father had arranged his release. He stayed home for a few weeks, then, without consulting anyone, entered Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire, and so he left his father's house. To return for the wedding of his sister and to show his own future wife to them, the washed-out rag of an American girl.

Michael Corleone was amusing Kay Adams (развлекал) by telling her little stories about some of the more colorful wedding guests (о наиболее колоритных). He was, in turn (в свою очередь), amused by her finding (что она находила) these people exotic, and, as always, charmed by her intense interest (очарован ее живым интересом) in anything new and foreign to her experience. Finally her attention was caught (ее внимание было привлечено) by a small group of men gathered around a wooden barrel (собравшихся вокруг деревянной бочки) of homemade wine. The men were Amerigo Bonasera, Nazorine the Baker, Anthony Coppola and Luca Brasi. With her usual alert intelligence (со свойственной ей живой, острой наблюдательностью; alert [∂'l∂:t] – бдительный, настороженный) she remarked (заметила, высказала наблюдение) on the fact that these four men did not seem particularly happy (не кажутся особенно счастливыми). Michael smiled. "No, they're not," he said. "They're waiting to see my father in private (наедине). They have favors to ask (хотят просить об одолжении, помощи)." And indeed it was easy to see that all four men constantly followed the Don with their eyes.

As Don Corleone stood greeting guests, a black Chevrolet sedan came to a stop on the far side of the paved mall (мощеной аллеи). Two men in the front seat pulled notebooks from their jackets and, with no attempt at concealment (не таясь: «без попытки укрывания, утаивания»; to conceal - утаивать), jotted down (начали записывать; jot – йота, ничтожное количество; to jot – кратко записать, бегло набросать) license numbers of the other cars parked around the mall. Sonny turned to his father and said, "Those guys over there must be cops (те парни вон там, должно быть, полицейские)."

Don Corleone shrugged. "I don't own the street (не владею улицей = улица – не моя собственность). They can do what they please."

Sonny's heavy Cupid face grew red with anger (стало красным от гнева). "Those lousy bastards (вшивые выродки), they don't respect anything." He left the steps of the house and walked across the mall to where the black sedan was parked. He thrust his face angrily close to the face of the driver, who did not flinch (не отклонился, не дрогнул; to flinch – вздрагивать /от боли, испуга/; уклоняться, отступать) but flapped open (открыл: «распахнул»; to flap – хлопать, шлепать) his wallet (бумажник ['wolıt]) to show a green identification card (удостоверение). Sonny stepped back without saying a word. He spat (плюнул; to spit) so that the spittle hit the back door (что слюна попала на заднюю дверь) of the sedan and walked away. He was hoping the driver would get out of the sedan and come after him, on the mall, but nothing happened. When he reached the steps (дошел до ступеней: «достиг» ступеней) he said to his father, "Those guys are FBI men (FBI – Federal Bureau of Investigation /ФБР – Федеральное бюро расследований/). They're taking down all the license numbers. Snotty (сопливые; snot – сопли /груб./) bastards."

Don Corleone knew who they were. His closest and most intimate friends had been advised (его наиболее близким друзьям было посоветовано) to attend (посетить, присутствовать на [∂'tend]) the wedding in automobiles not their own. And though he disapproved (не одобрял) of his son's foolish display of anger (глупое выражение, демонстрацию гнева), the tantrum (вспышка раздражения [‘tæntr∂m]) served a purpose (/по/служило цели ['p∂:p∂s]). It would convince the interlopers (убедит непрошенных гостей; interloper – человек, вмешивающийся в чужие дела) that their presence was unexpected (что их присутствие было неожиданным = что их не ждали) and unprepared for (и к этому не были готовы). So Don Corleone himself was not angry. He had long ago learned that society imposes insults (наносит обиды: «накладывает оскорбления») that must be borne (которые нужно уметь стерпеть, снести: «которые должны быть носимы»), comforted (утешаясь) by the knowledge that in this world there comes a time when the most humble of men, if he keeps his eyes open, can take his revenge on the most powerful (может отомстить самому могущественному). It was this knowledge that prevented (предохранило, предупредило) the Don from losing the humility (от утраты смирения) all his friends admired in him (которым восхищались все его друзья [∂d'maı∂]).