Page 126 - The Book Thief

that, do we? No more book stealing then, huh?

Liesel grinned.

What she didnt know until later was that within the next few days, her foster
father managed to trade some cigarettes for another book, although this one was
not for her. He knocked on the door of the Nazi Party office in Molching and
took the opportunity to ask about his membership application. Once this was
discussed, he proceeded to give them his last scraps of money and a dozen
cigarettes. In return, he received a used copy of Mein Kampf.

Happy reading, said one of the party members.

Thank you. Hans nodded.

From the street, he could still hear the men inside. One of the voices was
particularly clear. He will never be approved, it said, even if he buys a hundred

copies of Mein Kampf. The statement was unanimously agreed upon.

Hans held the book in his right hand, thinking about postage money, a
cigaretteless existence, and the foster daughter who had given him this brilliant
idea.

Thank you, he repeated, to which a passerby inquired as to what hed said.

With typical affability, Hans replied, Nothing, my good man, nothing at all. Heil
Hitler, and he walked down Munich Street, holding the pages of the Fhrer.

There must have been a good share of mixed feelings at that moment, for Hans
Hubermanns idea had not only sprung from Liesel, but from his son. Did he

already fear hed never see him again? On the other hand, he was also enjoying
the ecstasy of an idea, not daring just yet to envision its complications, dangers,
and vicious absurdities. For now, the idea was enough. It was indestructible.
Transforming it into reality, well, that was something else altogether. For now,
though, lets let him enjoy it.

Well give him seven months.

Then we come for him.