The Book Thief 2
Öykü Penceresi Metni
- Leave her to me, Rosa!
- Why was my father labeled a Communist? Where did my brown eyes come from? Why did my mother leave me? If she loved me why did she leave me on someone else's doorstep? Because she is sick.
- You filthy pig! why won't you take a bath?
- For the next hour or so, they sat in the rising pool of darkness, playing with the tobacco and the cigarette papers and Hans Hubermann smoking them. When the hour was up, Liesel could roll a cigarette moderately well. She still didn’t have a bath.
- You know how to roll a cigarette?
- Hans, he's not noticeable or valuable to most people. but his manner and quiet nature makes him worth a lot to me.
- I'll have not rouble calling him Papa.
- Yes
- And him over there. That Saukerl, that filthy pig—you call him Papa, verstehst? Understand?
- Now listen, Liesel—from now on you call me Mama.
- Not leaving: an act of trust and love, often deciphered by children
- Those first few months were definitely the hardest. Every night, Liesel would nightmare. Her brother’s face. Staring at the floor. She would wake up swimming in her bed, screaming, and drowning in the flood of sheets. Possibly the only good to come out of these nightmares was that it brought Hans Hubermann, her new papa, into the room, to soothe her, to love her. He came in every night and sat with her. The first couple of times, he simply stayed—a stranger to kill the aloneness. A few nights after that, he whispered, “Shhh, I’m here, it’s all right.” After three weeks, he held her. Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man’s gentleness, his thereness.
- Some mornings he played accordion for her, giving the gift of music.
- A few times a week, Liesel would come home from school and walk the streets of Molching with her mama, picking up and delivering washing and ironing from the wealthier parts of town. Mama would deliver the ironing or pick up the washing with a dutiful smile, but as soon as the door was shut and she walked away, she would curse these rich people, with all their money and laziness.
- Too g’schtinkerdt to wash their own clothes!
- You see, this is what I have to put up with. These rich bastards, these lazy swine.
- I'll just wait here until I hear Papa's voice.
- Hello, stars!
- It was a tradition for Frau Holtzapfel, one of their neighbors, to spit on the Hubermanns’ door every time she walked past. The spitting was due to the fact that she and Rosa Hubermann were engaged in some kind of decade-long verbal war. No one new the origin.
- Schweine!
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