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- Стр. 231/319
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His
face
too
felt
"
heavy
.
"
Dr.
Taza
had
told
him
that
this
was
due
to
the
pressure
on
his
sinuses
caused
by
the
badly
healed
fracture
.
Dr.
Taza
called
it
an
eggshell
fracture
of
the
zygoma
;
that
if
it
had
been
treated
before
the
bones
knitted
,
it
could
have
been
easily
remedied
by
a
minor
surgical
procedure
using
an
instrument
like
a
spoon
to
push
out
the
bone
to
its
proper
shape
.
Now
,
however
,
said
the
dootor
,
he
would
have
to
check
into
a
Palermo
hospital
and
undergo
a
major
procedure
called
maxillo-facial
surgery
where
the
bone
would
be
broken
again
.
That
was
enough
for
Michael
.
He
refused
.
And
yet
more
than
the
pain
,
more
than
the
nose
dripping
,
he
was
bothered
by
the
feeling
of
heaviness
in
his
face
.
He
never
reached
the
coast
that
day
.
After
going
about
fifteen
miles
he
and
his
shepherds
stopped
in
the
cool
green
watery
shade
of
an
orange
grove
to
eat
lunch
and
drink
their
wine
.
Fabrizzio
was
chattering
about
how
he
would
someday
get
to
America
.
After
drinking
and
eating
they
lolled
in
the
shade
and
Fabrizzio
unbuttoned
his
shirt
and
contracted
his
stomach
muscles
to
make
the
tattoo
come
alive
.
The
naked
couple
on
his
chest
writhed
in
a
lover
's
agony
and
the
dagger
thrust
by
the
husband
quivered
in
their
transfixed
flesh
.
It
amused
them
.
It
was
while
this
was
going
on
that
Michael
was
hit
with
what
the
Sicilians
call
"
the
thunderbolt
.
"
Beyond
the
orange
grove
lay
the
green
ribboned
fields
of
a
baronial
estate
.
Down
the
road
from
the
grove
was
a
villa
so
Roman
it
looked
as
if
it
had
been
dug
up
from
the
ruins
of
Pompeii
.
It
was
a
little
palace
with
a
huge
marble
portico
and
fluted
Grecian
columns
and
through
those
columns
came
a
bevy
of
village
girls
flanked
by
two
stout
matrons
clad
in
black
.
They
were
from
the
village
and
had
obviously
fulfilled
their
ancient
duty
to
the
local
baron
by
cleaning
his
villa
and
otherwise
preparing
it
for
his
winter
sojourn
.
Now
they
were
going
into
the
fields
to
pick
the
flowers
with
which
they
would
fill
the
rooms
.
They
were
gathering
the
pink
sulla
,
purple
wisteria
,
mixing
them
with
orange
and
lemon
blossoms
.
The
girls
,
not
seeing
the
men
resting
in
the
orange
grove
,
came
closer
and
closer
.
They
were
dressed
in
cheap
gaily
printed
frocks
that
clung
to
their
bodies
.
They
were
still
in
their
teens
but
with
the
full
womanliness
sun-drenched
flesh
ripened
into
so
quickly
.
Three
or
four
of
them
started
chasing
one
girl
,
chasing
her
toward
the
grove
.
The
girl
being
chased
held
a
bunch
of
huge
purple
grapes
in
her
left
hand
and
with
her
right
hand
was
picking
grapes
off
the
cluster
and
throwing
them
at
her
pursuers
.
She
had
a
crown
of
ringleted
hair
as
purple-black
as
the
grapes
and
her
body
seemed
to
be
bursting
out
of
its
skin
.
Just
short
of
the
grove
she
poised
,
startled
,
her
eyes
having
caught
the
alien
color
of
the
men
's
shirts
.
She
stood
there
up
on
her
toes
poised
like
a
deer
to
run
.
She
was
very
close
now
,
close
enough
for
the
men
to
see
every
feature
of
her
face
.
She
was
all
ovals
--
oval-shaped
eyes
,
the
bones
of
her
face
,
the
contour
of
her
brow
.
Her
skin
was
an
exquisite
dark
creaminess
and
her
eyes
,
enormous
,
dark
violet
or
brown
but
dark
with
long
heavy
lashes
shadowed
her
lovely
face
.
Her
mouth
was
rich
without
being
gross
,
sweet
without
being
weak
and
dyed
dark
red
with
the
juice
of
the
grapes
.
She
was
so
incredibly
lovely
that
Fabrizzio
murmured
,
"
Jesus
Christ
,
take
my
soul
,
I
'm
dying
,
"
as
a
joke
,
but
the
words
came
out
a
little
too
hoarsely
.
As
if
she
had
heard
him
,
the
girl
came
down
off
her
toes
and
whirled
away
from
them
and
.
fled
back
to
her
pursuers
.
Her
haunches
moved
like
an
animal
's
beneath
the
tight
print
of
her
dress
;
as
pagan
and
as
innocently
lustful
.
When
she
reached
her
friends
she
whirled
around
again
and
her
face
was
like
a
dark
hollow
against
the
field
of
bright
flowers
.
She
extended
an
arm
,
the
hand
full
of
grapes
pointed
toward
the
grove
.
The
girls
fled
laughing
,
with
the
black-clad
,
stout
matrons
scolding
them
on
.
As
for
Michael
Corleone
,
he
found
himself
standing
,
his
heart
pounding
in
his
chest
;
he
felt
a
little
dizzy
.
The
blood
was
surging
through
his
body
,
through
all
its
extremities
and
pounding
against
the
tips
of
his
fingers
,
the
tips
of
his
toes
.
All
the
perfumes
of
the
island
came
rushing
in
on
the
wind
,
orange
,
lemon
blossoms
,
grapes
,
flowers
.
It
seemed
as
if
his
body
had
sprung
away
from
him
out
of
himself
.
And
then
he
heard
the
two
shepherds
laughing
.
"
You
got
hit
by
the
thunderbolt
,
eh
?
"
Fabrizzio
said
,
clapping
him
on
the
shoulder
.
Even
Calo
became
friendly
,
patting
him
on
the
arm
and
saying
,
"
Easy
,
man
,
easy
,
"
but
with
affection
.
As
if
Michael
had
been
hit
by
a
car
.
Fabrizzio
handed
him
a
wine
bottle
and
Michael
took
a
long
slug
.
It
cleared
his
head
.
