Page 124 - The Book Thief

Liesel, by comparison, did not speak. Perhaps it was her first realization that
criminality spoke best for itself. Irrefutable.

Papa studied the title, probably wondering exactly what kind of threat this book
posed to the hearts and minds of the German people. He handed it back.
Something happened.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Each word fell away at its edges. It broke off and
formed the next.

The criminal could no longer resist. What, Papa? What is it?

Of course.

Like most humans in the grip of revelation, Hans Hubermann stood with a
certain numbness. The next words would either be shouted or would not make it

past his teeth. Also, they would most likely be a repetition of the last thing hed
said, only moments earlier.

Of course.

This time, his voice was like a fist, freshly banged on the table.

The man was seeing something. He was watching it quickly, end to end, like a
race, but it was too high and too far away for Liesel to see. She begged him.
Come on, Papa, what is it? She fretted that he would tell Mama about the book.
As humans do, this was all about her. Are you going to tell?

Sorry?

You know. Are you going to tell Mama?

Hans Hubermann still watched, tall and distant. About what?

She raised the book. This. She brandished it in the air, as if waving a gun.

Papa was bewildered. Why would I?