Page 198 - The Book Thief

say Saumensch. It was a personal feat of abstinence. Hell talk to you and you

have to listen. Is that clear?

The girl was still swallowing.

Is that clear, Saumensch?

That was better.

The girl nodded.

When she reentered the bedroom to fetch her clothes, the body in the opposite
bed had turned and curled up. It was no longer a straight log but a kind of Z
shape, reaching diagonally from corner to corner. Zigzagging the bed.

She could see his face now, in the tired light. His mouth was open and his skin
was the color of eggshells. Whiskers coated his jaw and chin, and his ears were

hard and flat. He had a small but misshapen nose.

Liesel!

She turned.

Move it!

She moved, to the washroom.

Once changed and in the hallway, she realized she would not be traveling far.
Papa was standing in front of the door to the basement. He smiled very faintly,
lit the lamp, and led her down.

Among the mounds of drop sheets and the smell of paint, Papa told her to make
herself comfortable. Ignited on the walls were the painted words, learned in the
past. I need to tell you some things.

Liesel sat on top of a meter-tall heap of drop sheets, Papa on a fifteen-liter paint
can. For a few minutes, he searched for the words. When they came, he stood to
deliver them. He rubbed his eyes.