Page 194 - The Book Thief

THE WRATH OF ROSA

Liesel had drifted back to sleep when the unmistakable voice of Rosa
Hubermann entered the kitchen. It shocked her awake.

Was ist los?

Curiosity got the better of her then, as she imagined a tirade thrown down from
the wrath of Rosa. There was definite movement and the shuffle of a chair.

After ten minutes of excruciating discipline, Liesel made her way to the corridor,

and what she saw truly amazed her, because Rosa Hubermann was at Max
Vandenburgs shoulder, watching him gulp down her infamous pea soup.
Candlelight was standing at the table. It did not waver.

Mama was grave.

Her plump figure glowed with worry.

Somehow, though, there was also a look of triumph on her face, and it was not
the triumph of having saved another human being from persecution. It was
something more along the lines of, See? At least hes not complaining. She
looked from the soup to the Jew to the soup.

When she spoke again, she asked only if he wanted more.

Max declined, preferring instead to rush to the sink and vomit. His back
convulsed and his arms were well spread. His fingers gripped the metal.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Rosa muttered. Another one.

Turning around, Max apologized. His words were slippery and small, quelled by
the acid. Im sorry. I think I ate too much. My stomach, you know, its been so
long since . . . I dont think it can handle such

Move, Rosa ordered him. She started cleaning up.