mp.godfather-第86章

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te　（scanned　and　fully　proofed　by　iliter8）　peasants；　the　estate　shepherds；　and　this　gave　him　a　local　reputation　for　foolishness。　What　did　books　have　to　do　with　them？
　
　In　the　evenings　Dr。　Taza；　Don　Tommasino　and　Michael　sat　in　the　huge　garden　populated　with　these　marble　statues　that　on　this　island　seemed　to　grow　out　of　the　garden　as　magically　as　the　black　heady　grapes。　Dr。　Taza　loved　to　tell　stories　about　the　Mafia　and　its　exploits　over　the　centuries　and　in　Michael　Corleone　he　had　a　fascinated　listener。　There　were　times　when　even　Don　Tommasino　would　be　carried　away　by　the　balmy　air；　the　fruity；　intoxicating　wine；　the　elegant　and　quiet　fort　of　the　garden；　and　tell　a　story　from　his　own　practical　experience。　The　doctor　was　the　legend；　the　Don　the　reality。
　
　In　this　antique　garden；　Michael　Corleone　learned　about　the　roots　from　which　his　father　grew。　That　the　word　〃Mafia〃　had　originally　meant　place　of　refuge。　Then　it　became　the　name　for　the　secret　organization　that　sprang　up　to　fight　against　the　rulers　who　had　crushed　the　country　and　its　people　for　centuries。　Sicily　was　a　land　that　had　been　more　cruelly　raped　than　any　other　in　history。　The　Inquisition　had　tortured　rich　and　poor　alike。　The　landowning　barons　and　the　princes　of　the　Catholic　Church　exercised　absolute　power　over　the　shepherds　and　farmers。　The　police　were　the　instruments　of　their　power　and　so　identified　with　them　that　to　be　called　a　policeman　is　the　foulest　insult　one　Sicilian　can　hurl　at　another。
　
　Faced　with　the　savagery　of　this　absolute　power；　the　suffering　people　learned　never　to　betray　their　anger　and　their　hatred　for　fear　of　being　crushed。　They　learned　never　to　make　themselves　vulnerable　by　uttering　any　sort　of　threat　since　giving　such　a　warning　insured　a　quick　reprisal。　They　learned　that　society　was　their　enemy　and　so　when　they　sought　redress　for　their　wrongs　they　went　to　the　rebel　underground；　the　Mafia。　And　the　Mafia　cemented　its　power　by　originating　the　law　of　silence；　the　omerta。　In　the　countryside　of　Sicily　a　stranger　asking　directions　to　the　nearest　town　will　not　even　receive　the　courtesy　of　an　answer。　And　the　greatest　crime　any　member　of　the　Mafia　could　mit　would　be　to　tell　the　police　the　name　of　the　man　who　had　just　shot　him　or　done　him　any　kind　of　injury。　Omerta　became　the　religion　of　the　people。　A　woman　whose　husband　has　been　murdered　would　not　tell　the　police　the　name　of　her　husband's　murderer；　not　even　of　her　child's　murderer；；　her　daughter's　raper。
　
　Justice　had　never　been　forthing　from　the　authorities　and　so　the　people　had　always　gone　to　the　Robin　Hood　Mafia。　And　to　some　extent　the　Mafia　still　fulfilled　this　role。　People　turned　to　their　local　capo…mafioso　for　help　in　every　emergency。　He　was　their　social　worker；　their　district　captain　ready　with　a　basket　of　food　and　a　job；　their　protector。
　
　But　what　Dr。　Taza　did　not　add；　what　Michael　learned　on　his　own　in　the　months　that　followed；　was　that　the　Mafia　in　Sicily　had　bee　the　illegal　arm　of　the　rich　and　even　the　auxiliary　police　of　the　legal　and　political　structure。　It　had　bee　a　degenerate　capitalist　structure；　anti…munist；　anti…liberal；　placing　its　own　taxes　on　every　form　of　business　endeavor　no　matter　how　small。
　
　Michael　Corleone　understood　for　the　first　time　why　men　like　his　father　chose　to　bee　thieves　and　murderers　rather　than　members　of　the　legal　society。　The　poverty　and　fear　and　degradation　were　too　awful　to　be　acceptable　to　any　man　of　spirit。　And　in　America　some　emigrating　Sicilians　had　assumed　there　would　be　an　equally　cruel　authority。
　
　Dr。　Taza　offered　to　take　Michael　into　Palermo　with　him　on　his　weekly　visit　to　the　bordello　but　Michael　refused。　His　flight　to　Sicily　had　prevented　him　from　getting　proper　medical　treatment　for　his　smashed　jaw　and　he　now　carried　a　memento　from　Captain　McCluskey　on　the　left　side　of　his　face。　The　bones　had　knitted　badly；　throwing　his　profile　askew；　giving　him　the　appearance　of　depravity　when　viewed　from　that　side。　He　had　always　been　vain　about　his　looks　and　this　upset　him　more　than　he　thought　possible。　The　pain　that　came　and　went　he　didn't　mind　at　all；　Dr。　Taza　gave　him　some　pills　that　deadened　it。　Taza　offered　to　treat　his　face　but　Michael　refused。　He　had　been　there　long　enough　to　learn　that　Dr。　Taza　was　perhaps　the　worst　physician　in　Sicily。　Dr。　Taza　read　everything　but　his　medical　literature；　which　he　admitted　he　could　not　understand。　He　had　passed　his　medical　exams　through　the　good　offices　of　the　most　important　Mafia　chief　in　Sicily　who　had　made　a　special　trip　to　Palermo　to　confer　with　Taza's　professors　about　what　grades　they　should　give　him。　And　this　too　showed　how　the　Mafia　in　Sicily　was　cancerous　to　the　society　it　inhabited。　Merit　meant　nothing。　Talent　meant　nothing。　Work　meant　nothing。　The　Mafia　Godfather　gave　you　your　profession　as　a　gift。
　
　Michael　had　plenty　of　time　to　think　things　out。　During　the　day　he　took　walks　in　the　countryside；　always　acpanied　by　two　of　the　shepherds　attached　to　Don　Tommasino's　estate。　The　shepherds　of　the　island　were　often　recruited　to　act　as　the　Mafia's　hired　killers　and　did　their　job　simply　to　earn　money　to　live。　Michael　thought　about　his　father's　organization。　If　it　continued　to　prosper　it　would　grow　into　what　had　happened　here　on　this　island；　so　cancerous　that　it　would　destroy　the　whole　country。　Sicily　was　already　a　land　of　ghosts；　its　men　emigrating　to　every　other　country　on　earth　to　be　able　to　earn　their　bread；　or　simply　to　escape　being　murdered　for　exercising　their　political　and　economic　freedoms。
　
　On　his　long　walks　the　most　striking　thing　in　Michael's　eyes　was　the　magnificent　beauty　of　the　country；　he　walked　through　the　orange　orchards　that　formed　shady　deep　caverns　through　the　countryside　with　their　ancient　conduits　splashing　water　out　of　the　fanged　mouths　of　great　snake　stones　carved　before　Christ。　Houses　built　like　ancient　Roman　villas；　with　huge　marble　portals　and　great　vaulted　rooms；　falling　into　ruins　or　inhabited　by　stray　sheep。　On　the　horizon　the　bony　hills　shone　like　picked　bleached　bones　piled　high。　Gardens　and　fields；　sparkly　green；　decorated　the　desert　landscape　like　bright　emerald　necklaces。　And　sometimes　he　walked　as　far　as　the　town　of　Corleone；　its　eighteen　thousand　people　strung　out　in　dwellings　that　pitted　the　side　of　the　nearest　mountain；　the　mean　hovels　built　out　of　black　rock　quarried　from　that　mountain。　In　the　last　year　there　had　been　over　sixty　murders　in　Corleone　and　it　seemed　that　death　shadowed　the　town。　Further　on；　the　wood　of　Ficuzza　broke　the　savage　monotony　of　arable　plain。
　
　His　two　shepherd　bodyguards　always　carried　their　luparas　with　them　when　acpanying　Michael　on　his　walks。　The　deadly　Sicilian　shotgun　was　the　favorite　weapon　of　the　Mafia。　Indeed　the　police　chief　sent　by　Mussolini　to　clean　the　Mafia　out　of　Sicily　had；　as　one　of　his　first　steps；　ordered　all　stone　walls　in　Sicily　to　be　knocked　down　to　not　more　than　three　feet　in　height　so　that　murderers　with　their　luparas　could　not　use　the　walls　as　ambush　points　for　their　assassinations。　This　didn't　help　much　and　the　police　minister　solved　his　problem　by　arresting　and　deporting　to　penal　colonies　any　male　suspected　of　being　a　mafioso。
　
　When　the　island　of　Sicily　was　liberated　by　the　Allied　Armies；　the　American　military　government　officials　believed　that　anyone　imprisoned　by　the　Fascist　regime　was　a　democrat　and　many　of　these　mafiosi　were　appointed　as　mayors　of　villages　or　interpreters　to　the　military　government。　This　good　fortune　enabled　the　Mafia　to　reconstitute　itself　and　bee　more　formidable　than　ever　before。
　
　The　long　walks；　a　bottle　of　strong　wine　at　night　with　a　heavy　plate　of　pasta　and　meat；　enabled　Michael　to　sleep。　There　were　books　in　Italian　in　Dr。　Taza's　library　and　though　Michael　spoke　dialect　Italian　and　had　taken　some　college　courses　in　Italian；　his　reading　of　these　books　took　a　great　deal　of　effort　and　time。　His　speech　became　almost　accentiess　and；　though　he　could　never　pass　as　a　native　of　the　district；　it　would　be　believed　that　he　was　one　of　those　strange　Italians　from　the　far　north　of　Italy　bordering　the　Swiss　and　Germans。
　
　The　distortion　of　the　left　side　of　his　face　made　him　more　native。　It　was　the　kind　of　disfigurement　mon　in　Sicily　because　of　the　lack　of　medical　care。