Page 211 - The Book Thief

Its too cold, Papa.

That never bothered you before.

Yes, but it was never this cold. . . .

When they made their way down, Papa whispered to Max, Can we borrow the
lamplight, please?

With trepidation, the sheets and cans moved and the light was passed out,
exchanging hands. Looking at the flame, Hans shook his head and followed it
with some words. Es ist ja Wahnsinn, net? This is crazy, no? Before the hand
from within could reposition the sheets, he caught it. Bring yourself, too. Please,
Max.

Slowly then, the drop sheets were dragged aside and the emaciated body and
face of Max Vandenburg appeared. In the moist light, he stood with a magic

discomfort. He shivered.

Hans touched his arm, to bring him closer.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You cannot stay down here. Youll freeze to death. He
turned. Liesel, fill up the tub. Not too hot. Make it just like it is when it starts
cooling down.

Liesel ran up.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

She heard it again when she reached the hallway.

When he was in the pint-sized bath, Liesel listened at the washroom door,
imagining the tepid water turning to steam as it warmed his iceberg body. Mama
and Papa were at the climax of debate in the combined bedroom and living
room, their quiet voices trapped inside the corridor wall.

Hell die down there, I promise you.

But what if someone sees in?