“The Godfather” By Mario Puzo 36
slyly, “It’s been arranged then?”
When the Don answered, his voice was cold, without comfort. “You blaspheme. Resign
yourself.”
Abbandando fell back on the pillow. His eyes lost their wild gleam of hope. The nurse
came back into the room and started shooing them out in a very matter-of-fact way. The
Don got up but Abbandando put out his hand. “Godfather,” he said, “stay here with me
and help me meet death. Perhaps if He sees you near me He will be frightened and
leave me in peace. Or perhaps you can say a word, pull a few strings, eh?” The dying
man winked as if he were mocking the Don, now not really serious. “You’re brothers in
blood, after all.” Then, as if fearing the Don would be offended, he clutched at his hand.
“Stay with me, let me hold your hand. We’ll outwit that bastard as we’ve outwitted
others. Godfather, don’t betray me.”
The Don motioned the other people out of the room. They left. He took the withered
claw of Genco Abbandando in his own two broad hands. Softly, reassuringly, he
comforted his friend, as they waited for death together. As if the Don could truly snatch
the life of Gencp Abbandando back from that most foul and criminal traitor to man.
* * * The wedding day of Connie Corleone ended well for her. Carlo Rizzi performed his
duties as a bridegroom with skill and vigor, spurred on by the contents of the bride’s gift
purse which totaled up to over twenty thousand dollars. The bride, however, gave up her
virginity with a great deal more willingness than she gave up her purse. For the latter, he
had to blacken one of her eyes.
Lucy Mancini waited in her house for a call from Sonny Corleone, sure that he would
ask her for a date. Finally she called his house and when she heard a woman’s voice
answer the phone she hung up. She had no way of knowing that nearly everyone at the
wedding had remarked the absence of her and Sonny for that fatal half hour and the
gossip was already spreading that Santino Corleone had found another victim. That he
had “done the job” on his own sister’s maid of honor.
Amerigo Bonasera had a terrible nightmare. In his dreams he saw Don Corleone, in
peaked cap, overalls and heavy gloves, unloading bullet-riddled corpses in front of his
funeral parlor and shouting, “Remember, Amerigo, not a word to anyone, and bury them
quickly.” He groaned so loud and long in his sleep that his wife shook him awake. “Eh,
what a man you are,” she grumbled. “To have a nightmare only after a wedding.”