The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
284
The cafe owner gave him another look, the smashed left side of his face, the long legs 
rare in Sicily. He took a look at the two shepherds carrying their luparas quite openly 
without fear and remembered how they had come into his cafe and told him their 
padrone wanted to talk to him. The cafe owner had snarled that he wanted the son of a 
bitch out of his terrace and one of the shepherds had said, “Take my word, it’s best you 
go out and speak to him yourself.” And something had made him come out. Now 
something made him realize that it would be best to show this stranger some courtesy. 
He said grudgingly, “Come Sunday afternoon. My name is Vitelli and my house is up 
there on the hill, above the village. But come here to the cafe and I’ll take you up.” 
Fabrizzio started to say something but Michael gave him one look and the shepherd’s 
tongue froze in his mouth. This was not lost on Vitelli. So when Michael stood up and 
stretched out his hand, the cafe owner took it and smiled. He would make some 
inquiries and if the answers were wrong he could always greet Michael with his two sons 
bearing their own shotguns. The cafe owner was not without his contacts among the 
“friends of the friends.” But something told him this was one of those wild strokes of 
good fortune that Sicilians always believed in, something told him that his daughter’s 
beauty would make her fortune and her family secure. And it was just as well. Some of 
the local youths were already beginning to buzz around and this stranger with his 
broken face could do the necessary job of scaring them off. Vitelli, to show his goodwill, 
sent the strangers off with a bottle of his best and coldest wine. He noticed that one of 
the shepherds paid the bill. This impressed him even more, made it clear that Michael 
was the superior of the two men who accompanied him. 
Michael was no longer interested in his hike. They found a garage and hired a car and 
driver to take them back to Corleone, and some time before supper, Dr. Taza must have 
been informed by the shepherds of what had happen. That evening, sitting in the 
garden, Dr. Taza said to Don Tommasino, “Our friend got hit by the thunderbolt today.” 
Don Tommasino did not seem surprised. He grunted. “I wish some of those young 
fellows in Palermo would get a thunderbolt, maybe I could get some peace.” He was 
talking about the new-style Mafia chiefs rising in the big cities of Palermo and 
challenging the power of old-regime stalwarts like himself. 
Michael said to Tommasino, “I want you to tell those two sheep herders to leave me 
alone Sunday. I’m going to go to this girl’s family for dinner and I don’t want them 
hanging around.” 

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