“The Godfather” By Mario Puzo 348
was to be his. And his father dying had said, “Life is so beautiful.” Michael could never
remember his father ever having uttered a word about death, as if the Don respected
death too much to philosophize about it.
It was time for the cemetery. It was time to bury the great Don. Michael linked his arm
with Kay’s and went out into the garden to join the host of mourners. Behind him came
the caporegimes followed by their soldiers and then all the humble people the Godfather
had blessed during his lifetime. The baker Nazorine, the widow Colombo and her sons
and all the countless others of his world he had ruled so firmly but justly. There were
even some who had been his enemies, come to do him honor.
Michael observed all this with a tight, polite smile. He was not impressed. Yet, he
thought, if I can die saying, “Life is so beautiful,” then nothing else is important. If I can
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.
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 Ned had served drinks. Then he said quietly, “I just want to tell