Page 304 - The Book Thief

What do we do when it melts? Liesel asked.

Rosa had the answer. You mop it up, Saumensch, in a hurry.

Papa disagreed. It wont melt. He rubbed his hands and blew into them. Its
freezing down here.

Melt it did, though, but somewhere in each of them, that snowman was still
upright. It must have been the last thing they saw that Christmas Eve when they
finally fell asleep. There was an accordion in their ears, a snowman in their eyes,
and for Liesel, there was the thought of Maxs last words before she left him by
the fire.

CHRISTMAS GREETINGS FROM MAX VANDENBURG Often I wish
this would all be over, Liesel, but then somehow you do something like walk
down the basement steps with a snowman in your hands.

Unfortunately, that night signaled a severe downslide in Maxs health. The early
signs were innocent enough, and typical. Constant coldness. Swimming hands.
Increased visions of boxing with the Fhrer. It was only when he couldnt warm
up after his push-ups and sit-ups that it truly began to worry him. As close to the

fire as he sat, he could not raise himself to any degree of approximate health.
Day by day, his weight began to stumble off him. His exercise regimen faltered
and fell apart, with his cheek against the surly basement floor.

All through January, he managed to hold himself together, but by early
February, Max was in worrisome shape. He would struggle to wake up next to
the fire, sleeping well into the morning instead, his mouth distorted and his
cheekbones starting to swell. When asked, he said he was fine.

In mid-February, a few days before Liesel was thirteen, he came to the fireplace
on the verge of collapse. He nearly fell into the fire.

Hans, he whispered, and his face seemed to cramp. His legs gave way and his

head hit the accordion case.