Page 387 - The Book Thief
P. 387
THE IDIOT AND THE COAT MEN
On the night of the parade, the idiot sat in the kitchen, drinking bitter gulps of
Holtzapfels coffee and hankering for a cigarette. He waited for the Gestapo, the
soldiers, the policefor anyone to take him away, as he felt he deserved. Rosa
ordered him to come to bed. The girl loitered in the doorway. He sent them both
away and spent the hours till morning with his head in his hands, waiting.
Nothing came.
Every unit of time carried with it the expected noise of knocking and threatening
words.
They did not come.
The only sound was of himself.
What have I done? he whispered again.
God, Id love a cigarette, he answered. He was all out.
Liesel heard the repeated sentences several times, and it took a lot to stay by the
door. Shed have loved to comfort him, but she had never seen a man so
devastated. There were no consolations that night. Max was gone, and Hans
Hubermann was to blame.
The kitchen cupboards were the shape of guilt, and his palms were oily with the
memory of what hed done. They must be sweaty, Liesel thought, for her own
hands were soaked to the wrists.
In her room, she prayed.
Hands and knees, forearms against the mattress.
Please, God, please let Max survive. Please, God, please . . .
