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The
cafe
owner
shrugged
,
more
wary
still
,
knowing
he
was
not
dealing
with
some
farmboy
.
"
Who
are
you
and
what
do
you
want
from
my
daughter
?
"
Without
even
hesitating
Michael
said
,
"
I
am
an
American
hiding
in
Sicily
,
from
the
police
of
my
country
.
My
name
is
Michael
.
You
can
inform
the
police
and
make
your
fortune
but
then
your
daughter
would
lose
a
father
rather
than
gain
a
husband
.
In
any
case
I
want
to
meet
your
daughter
.
With
your
permission
and
under
the
supervision
of
your
family
.
With
all
decorum
.
With
all
respect
.
I
'm
an
honorable
man
and
I
do
n't
think
of
dishonoring
your
daughter
.
I
want
to
meet
her
,
talk
to
her
and
then
if
it
hits
us
both
right
we
'll
marry
.
If
not
,
you
'll
never
see
me
again
.
She
may
find
me
unsympathetic
after
all
,
and
no
man
can
remedy
that
.
But
when
the
proper
time
comes
I
'll
tell
you
everything
about
me
that
a
wife
's
father
should
know
.
"
All
three
men
were
looking
at
him
with
amazement
.
Fabrizzio
whispered
in
awe
,
"
It
's
the
real
thunderbolt
.
"
The
cafe
owner
,
for
the
first
time
,
did
n't
look
so
confident
,
or
contemptuous
;
his
anger
was
not
so
sure
.
Finally
he
asked
,
"
Are
you
a
friend
of
the
friends
?
"
Since
the
word
Mafia
could
never
be
uttered
aloud
by
the
ordinary
Sicilian
,
this
was
as
close
as
the
cafe
owner
could
come
to
asking
if
Michael
was
a
member
of
the
Mafia
.
It
was
the
usual
way
of
asking
if
someone
belonged
but
it
was
ordinarily
not
addressed
to
the
person
directly
concerned
.
"
No
,
"
Michael
said
.
"
I
'm
a
stranger
in
this
country
.
"
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
.
