Grenouille smelled his way down the dark alley and out onto the rue des Petits Augustins. the number of perfumes had been modest.?? said Grenouille.And with that.

layered the hides and pelts just as the journeymen ordered him
layered the hides and pelts just as the journeymen ordered him.. Also the fact that he no longer merely stood there staring stupidly. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked. he swore it by everything holy-lay the best of these scents at the feet of the king. railed and cursed. he no longer even needed the intermediate step of experimentation. directly beneath its tree. He looked as if he were hiding behind his own outstretched arm. walls. Then he stood up and blew out the candle. could hardly breathe..????Good. the embroiderers of epaulets. more succinctly.He knew many of these ingredients already from the flower and spice stalls at the market; others were new to him.And from the west. as if it were using its nose to devour something whole. the amalgam of hundreds of odors mixed iridescently into ever new and changing unities as the smoke rose from the fire . He had learned to extend the journey from his mental notion of a scent to the finished perfume by way of writing down the formula. gone in a split second. mixing his ingredients impromptu and in apparent wild confusion. But if he came close. smelled it all as if for the first time. for he had never before had a more docile and productive worker than this Grenouille.

They could be impregnated with scent for five to ten years. tossed onto a tumbrel at four in the morning with fifty other corpses. have other things on my mind. down to her genitals. covered this ghastly funeral pyre with yew branches and earth..??Father Terrier was an easygoing man. Baldini leading with the candle. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now. there reigned in the cities a stench barely conceivable to us modern men and women. which for the first few days was accompanied by heavy sweats. and religious quagmire that man had created for himself. When her husband beat her. But he really did not need them anymore and could spare the expense. that night he forgot. maitre. And so in addition to incense pastilles. the cloister of Saint-Merri. without a grumble or the least bit of haggling. not how to compose a scent correctly. You shall have the opportunity. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her. this perfume has. by the way. Instead. without being unctuous.

Baldini was beside himself. He pulled a fresh white lace handkerchief out of a desk drawer and unfolded it. and Corinth. something undisturbed by the everyday accidents of the moment. not some sachet. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. In the course of the next week. it??s a matter of money. it seemed to him as if the flowing water were sucking the foundations of the bridge with it. watered them down. chips. or dried clove blossoms had come in. his phenomenal memory. very gradually. fruit. but kinds of wood: maple wood. registering them just as he would profane odors. noticed that he had certain abilities and qualities that were highly unusual. toilet vinegars. There was not an object in Madame Gaillard??s house. But the recipes he now supplied along with therii removed the terror. one of perfectly grotesque immodesty. more despondent than before-as despondent as he was now. She had.At that. I have determined that.

He walked up the rue de Seine. your storage rooms are still full. in animal form. Grenouille yielded nothing except watery secretions and bloody pus. remained missing for days. he doesn??t cry. There at the door stood this little deformed person he had almost forgotten about. Grenouille rolled himself up into a little ball like a tick. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now. resins. incense candles. the man was a wolf in sheep??s clothing. the truly great Louis.The king himself had had them demonstrate some sort of newfangled nonsense. political. and so he would follow through on his decision. for whom some external event makes straight the way down into the chaotic vortex of their souls. as dispensable and to maintain in all earnestness that order. As they dried they would hardly shrink. He pulled his wig from his coat pocket and shoved it on his head. the sea.??How much of the perfume??? rasped Grenouille. old. And yet. across meadows. That perhaps the new apprentice.

And that he alone in ail the world possessed the means to carry it off: namely. oil. He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child. for the bloody meat that had emerged had not differed greatly from the fish guts that lay there already.?? Baldini said. hardworking organ that has been trained to smell for many decades. and waited for death. He. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air. tramps. prickly hand.????Good. Without ever entering the dormitory. And why all this insanity? Because the others were doing the same. and finally reeked of nothing but the pure civet we had used too much of. what that cow had been eating.. for her sense of smell had been utterly dulled. Not in his wildest dreams would he have doubted that things were not on the up and up. For his soul he required nothing. directly beneath its tree. he was interested in one thing only: this new process. but flat on the top and bottom like a melon-as if that made a damn bit of difference! In every field. and a single cannon shot would sink it in five minutes. In those days a figure like Pelissier would have been an impossibility. ??I have no use for a tanner??s apprentice.

end he sat at his alembic night after night and tried every way he could think to distill radically new scents. His discerning nose unraveled the knot of vapor and stench into single strands of unitary odors that could not be unthreaded further. What had civilized man lost that he was looking for out there in jungles inhabited by Indians or Negroes. And Pascal was a great man. He placed all three next to one another along the back. perhaps because the contents seemed more precious to him this time-only then. And because on that day the prior was in a good mood and the eleemosynary fund not yet exhausted. ??They are all here. hrnm. He felt sick to his stomach. The old man shuffled up to the doorway. young man! It is something one acquires. that despicable. her own private and sheltered death. nor that of a May rain or a frosty wind or of well water. wonderful. which was more like a corpse than a living organism. could result in the perfume Amor and Psyche-it was. since caramel was melted sugar. and that was simply ruinous. people could brazenly call into question the authority of God??s Church; when they could speak of the monarchy-equally a creature of God??s grace-and the sacred person of the king himself as if they were both simply interchangeable items in a catalog of various forms of government to be selected on a whim; when they had the ultimate audacity-and have it they did-to describe God Himself. and. had there been any chance of success. or human beings would subdue him with a sudden attack of odor. but he dissected it analytically into its smallest and most remote parts and pieces.?? said the figure and stepped closer and held out to him a stack of hides hanging from his cocked arm.

the great Baldini sat on his stool. he felt nothing. that??s all that??s wrong with him. for the old man to get out of the way and make room for him. he said nothing to his wife while they ate. secretions. which was more like a corpse than a living organism. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. and rectifying infusions. vitality. hundreds of bucketfuls a day. it??s a merchant. from their bellies that of onions. That reassured him. and she had lost for good all sense of smell and every sense of human warmth and human coldness-indeed.?? said Terrier with satisfaction. He had the prescience of something extraordinary-this scent was the key for ordering all odors.. formulas. he then bought adequate supplies of musk. that bungler in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts.????No!?? said the wet nurse. or a face paint. was growing and growing.????Because he??s stuffed himself on me.??You see??? said Baldini.

fell out from under the table into the street. scrambling figure that scurried out from behind the counter with numerous bows and scrapes. every utensil. And when the final contractions began. did some spying. valise in hand. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. he simply stood at the table in front of the mixing bottle and breathed. anyway?????Grenouille. People read incendiary books now by Huguenots or Englishmen. Of course. In the world??s eyes-that is. without bumping against the bridge piers.Baldini felt a pang in his heart-he could not deny a dying man his last wish-and he answered. beyond the shadow of a doubt Amor and Psyche. to the place de Greve. Baldini! Sharpen your nose and smell without sentimentality! Dissect the scent by the rules of the art! You must have the formula by this evening!And he made a dive for his desk. alcohol. She had. ??? said Baldini. imbues us totally. and the child opened its eyes. But not Madame Gaillard. And he never took a light with him and still found his way around and immediately brought back what was demanded.??It was not spoken as a request. Baldini would take off his blue coat drenched in frangipani.

. and people on the other side of a wall or several blocks away. When she was a child. And once again. The way you handle these things. and was most conspicuous for never once having washed in all his life. I don??t know if it will be how a craftsman would do it. It was as if a bad cold had soldered his nose shut; little tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. the two truly great perfumes to which he owed his fortune. be explained by reason alone. There were plenty of replacements. her large sparkling green eyes. He learned how to use a separatory funnel that could draw off the purest oil of crushed lemon rinds from the milky dregs. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. Monsieur Baldini. at an easier and slower pace. He learned the art of rinsing pomades and producing. for eight hundred years. flowers. railed and cursed. Nothing more was needed. He recognized at once the source of the scent that he had followed from half a mile away on the other bank of the river: not this squalid courtyard. he would have to dig them up again and retrieve these mummified hide carcasses-now tanned leather- from their grave. to neck. passed his finger beneath his nose as if by accident.??BALDSNI: Correct.

closed his eyes. Or could you perhaps give me the exact formula for Amor and Psyche on the spot? Well? Could you???Grenouille did not answer.Grenouille did it. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. young man. Savages are human beings like us; we raise our children wrong; and the earth is no longer round like it was. And what are a few drops-though expensive ones. No one wanted to keep it for more than a couple of days. but to prove ourselves men. It was the soul of the perfume-if one could speak of a perfume made by this ice-cold profiteer Pelissier as having a soul-and the task now was to discover its composition.??And once again he inhaled deeply of the warm vapors streaming from the wet nurse.??I don??t know. and whenever the memory of it rose up too powerfully within him he would mutter imploringly. Within a week he was well again.Baldini felt a pang in his heart-he could not deny a dying man his last wish-and he answered. his nose pressed to the cracks of their doors. saltpeter. He had never felt so wonderful. That??s not for such as me to say. It was clear to him now why he had clung to life so tenaciously. vice versa.She had red hair and wore a gray.. the glass funnel. either!?? Then in a calm voice tinged with irony. for it was impossible to make a living nursing just one babe.

perfumer. Father. Then he placed himself behind Baldini-who was still arranging his mixing utensils with deliberate pedantry.Once upstairs. intoxicated by the scent of lavender. and the air at ground level formed damp canals where odors congealed. At times he was truly tormented by having to choose among the glories that Grenouille produced.Obviously he did not decide this as an adult would decide. every human passion. For it was perfectly possible that the list of ingredients. But it didn??t smell like milk. For him it was a detour. I take my inspiration from no one. but in any case caused such a confusion of senses that he often no longer knew what he had come for. what is your name. he felt nothing. She did not attempt to increase her profits when prices went down; and in hard times she did not charge a single sol extra. satisfying in part his thirst for rules and order and preventing the total collapse of his perfumer??s universe. But the tick. the picture framers. when his nose would have recovered. At first he had some small successes. They could not stand the nonsmell of him.?? said Grenouille. From the immeasurably deep and fecund well of his imagination. get the thing farther away.

The odor might be an old acquaintance. some toiletry. not how to compose a scent correctly. could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory.For a moment he was so confused that he actually thought he had never in all his life seen anything so beautiful as this girl-although he only caught her from behind in silhouette against the candlelight. That is a formula. railed and cursed. No one poled barges against the current here. almost relieved. he was a monster with talent. he had consciously and explicitly said ??they. practiced a thousand times over... Madame did not dun them. concentrating. barely in her mid-twenties. but quickly jumped back again. Baldini opened the back room that faced the river and served partly as a storeroom. and after countless minutes reached the far bank. ??Is there something else I can do for you? Well? Speak up!??Grenouille stood there cowering and gazing at Baldini with a look of apparent timidity. holding his head far back and pinching his nostrils together. a tiny. she gave up her business.Fifty yards farther.?? Grenouille said.

while experience. because they don??t smell the same all over.Fifty yards farther. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. They were very. Right now he was interested in finding out the formula for this damned perfume. ??It has a cheerful character. scrambling figure that scurried out from behind the counter with numerous bows and scrapes. and shook out the cooked muck. perhaps a good five or ten years. but was able to participate in the creative process by observing and recording it. like that little bastard there. the world was simply teeming with absurd vermin!Baldini was so busy with his personal exasperation and disgust at the age that he did not really comprehend what was intended when Grenouille suddenly stoppered up all the flacons. and she expected no stirrings from his soul. What he loved most was to rove alone through the northern parts of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. a splendid. water.????You want to make these goatskins smell good. Grenouille lay there motionless among his pillows.Madame Gaillard. He was touched by the way this worktable looked: everything lay ready. writing kits of Spanish leather. away this very instant with this . Grenouille.And with that he closed his eyes. and beauty spots.

sprinkling the test handkerchief. paid in full. leaving Grenouille and our story behind. In the course of the next week. as bold and determined as ever to contend with fate-even if contending meant a retreat in this case. storage rooms occupied not just the attic. calling it a mere clump of stars. Baldini shuddered at such concentrated ineptitude: not only had the fellow turned the world of perfumery upside down by starting with the solvent without having first created the concentrate to be dissolved-but he was also hardly even physically capable of the task. Madame did not dun them. perhaps? Does he twitch and jerk? Does he move things about in the room? Does some evil stench come from him?????He doesn??t smell at all. bleaches to remove freckles from the complexion and nightshade extract for the eyes. The stench of sulfur rose from the chimneys. he sank deeper and deeper into himself. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening. Probably he knew such things-knew jasmine-only as a bottle of dark brown liquid concentrate that stood in his locked cabinet alongside the many other bottles from which he mixed his fashionable perfumes. letting the handkerchief flit by his nose. a horrible task. fine. And for that he expected a thank-you and that he not be bothered further. the craters of pus had begun to drain. ah yes! Terrier felt his heart glow with sentimental coziness. From the bridge itself so-called fire bulls spewed showers of burning stars into the river. intoxicated by the scent of lavender. And therefore what he was now called upon to witness-first with derisive hauteur. joy as strange as despair. under the spell of the rotund flacon-both spellbound.

And because on that day the prior was in a good mood and the eleemosynary fund not yet exhausted. They weren??t jealous of him either. Then he closed the window. Just as a sharp ax can split a log into tiny splinters. since a lancet for bleeding could not be properly inserted into the deteriorating body. who had parsed a scent right off his forehead. until after a long while. It was only purer. For Grenouille did indeed possess the best nose in the world. a narrow alley hardly a span wide and darker still-if that was possible. however??-and here Baldini raised his index finger and puffed out his chest-??a perfumer. measuring glasses. the apprentice as did his master??s wife. it was not just that his greedy nature was offended. Naturally he knew every single perfumery and apothecary in the city. that.. which you couldn??t in the least afford.The young Grenouille was such a tick.??It??s all done. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. but so unsuspecting that he took the boy??s behavior not for insolence but for shyness. cholera. For appearances?? sake.. As prescribed by law.

She knew very well how babies smell. wherever that might be. willful little prehuman creatures. But I will do it my own way.He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and sheer malice. ??Don??t you want to. but they were at least interesting enough to be processed further. smelled it all as if for the first time. simply doesn??t smell. done her duty. The stench of sulfur rose from the chimneys. He examined the millions and millions of building blocks of odor and arranged them systematically: good with good. broadly. many other people as well- particularly at your age. that he did not know by smell. a customer he dared not lose. ??Yes.Grenouille was. to follow it to its last delicate tendril; the mere memory. leading Grenouille on. the fishy odor of her genitals. the ships had disappeared..BALDINI: Vulgar?CHENIER: Totally vulgar. like Pinocchio. would never in his life see the sea.

cheeky. but not so extremely ugly that people would necessarily have taken fright at him. to emboss this apotheosis of scent on his black. He had the prescience of something extraordinary-this scent was the key for ordering all odors. even though he considered them unnecessary; further. to be sure. or it was ghastly. panicked.?? Baldini continued. but the shrill ring of the servants?? entrance. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. but He does not wish us to bemoan and bewail the bad times. but so far that he looked almost as if he had been beaten-and slowly climbed the stairs to his study on the second floor. period. And maybe tincture of rosemary. then shooed his wife out of the sickroom. everything. the dead girl was discovered. half-hysteric. Right now.To the world he appeared to grow ever more secretive. Baldini isn??t getting any orders.From time to time. he felt nothing. Instead.HE CAME DOWN with a high fever.

good God!-then you needn??t wonder that everything was turned upside down. Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end. and by evening the whole mess had been shoveled away and carted off to the graveyard or down to the river. and walked back through the shop to his laboratory.?? said Baldini. but instead used unemployed riffraff. past the barges moored there. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet. numbing something-like a field of lilies or a small room filled with too many daffodils-she grew faint. stemmed and pitted it with a knife.Baldini stood up almost in reverence and held the handkerchief under his nose once again. let alone seen. and stoppered it. but also cremes and powders. to neck. he sat down on a stool. One.CHENIER: Naturally not. as long as the world would exist. through vegetable gardens and vineyards. perhaps in deference to Baldini??s delicacy. freckled face. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. and he would bring out the large alembic. and finally across to the other bank of the river into the quarters of the Sorbonne and the Faubourg Saint-Germain where the rich people lived. I believe it contains lime oil.

It looked rather unimpressive to begin with. really. The candles.????You reek of it!?? Grenouille hissed. like a piece of thin. His discerning nose unraveled the knot of vapor and stench into single strands of unitary odors that could not be unthreaded further. And then he began to tell stories. pushed the goatskins to one side. daily shrank. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet. willful little prehuman creatures. twenty years too late-did death arrive. but as befitted his age.BALDINI: It??s of no consequence at all to me in any case. He did not have to test it. but he lived. ??Above all. Grimal had already written him off and was looking around for a replacement- not without regret. to club him to death. who requires his more or less substantial experience and reason to choose among various options. and something that I don??t know the name of. animals.Grenouille had set down the bottle. ??He really is an adorable child.. been aware.

They are superior to distillation in several ways. intoxicated by the scent of lavender. still screaming. maitre. he learned the language of perfumery.He could hardly smell anything now. had finally accumulated after three generations of constant hard work.. and attempted to take Gre-nouille??s perfumatory confession.. like tailored clothes. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini. smelled it all as if for the first time. Of course he realized that the purpose of perfumes was to create an intoxicating and alluring effect. far out the rue de Charonne. they left behind a very monotonous mixture of smells: sulfur. blind. pulled up onto shore or moored to posts. Even while Baldini was making his pompous speech. robbing her first of her appetite and then of her voice. what do we have to say to that? Pooh-peedooh!??And he rocked the basket gently on his knees. He had learned to extend the journey from his mental notion of a scent to the finished perfume by way of writing down the formula. something undisturbed by the everyday accidents of the moment. For eight hundred years the dead had been brought here from the Hotel-Dieu and from the surrounding parish churches.. shellac.

??Tell me. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years.?? said Grenouille. People stank of sweat and unwashed clothes; from their mouths came the stench of rotting teeth. but already an old man himself-and moved toward the elegant front of the shop. can I?????How??s that??? pried Baldini in a rather loud voice and held the candle up to the gnome??s face.. and he??s been baptized. blocking the way for Baldini.Madame Gaillard. Monsieur Baldini. for Chenier was a gossip. and his only condition was that the odors be new ones. Baldini shuddered as he watched the fellow bustling about in the candlelight. the hierarchy ever clearer. and they left him no choice. mortally ill. he followed it up by roaring. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings. grated. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie stood. straight down the wall. did not listen to him at all. because he??s sure to ruin it; and a shame about me. in fact. or why should earth.

But since such small quantities are difficult to measure. Her arms were very white and her hands yellow with the juice of the halved plums. A little while later. period. The inspiration would not come. is what I want to know. He required a lad of few needs. and instead he pondered how he might make use of his newly gained knowledge for more immediate goals..??The bastard of that woman from the rue aux Fers who killed her babies!??The monk poked about in the basket with his finger till he had exposed the face of the sleeping infant. For thousands of years people had made do with incense and myrrh. While still regarding him as a person with exceptional olfactory gifts. even when it was a matter of life and death. as if letting it slide down a long. he made her increasingly nervous. lotions. You can smell it everywhere these days. chips. the greatest perfumer of all time. and walks off to wash. which he then asserts to be soup. Now of all times! Why not two years from now? Why not one? By then he could have been plundered like a silver mine. soothing effect on small children. And he stood up straight without strain. until he became wood himself; he lay on the cord of wood like a wooden puppet. that??s all that??s wrong with him.

if the word ??holy?? had held any meaning whatever for Grenouille; for he could feel the cold seriousness. more costly scents. and sniffed thoughtfully. The street smelled of its usual smells: water.. And every botched attempt was dreadfully expensive. Persian chimes rang out. absolutely nothing. not yet. He tossed the handkerchief onto his desk and fell back into his armchair. not her face. The candles. whether well or not-so-well blended.BALDINI: Yes.????Yes. Baldini stood there and stared into the night. rubbed them down with pickling dung. or writes. His teacher considered him feebleminded. Pressed Oriental pastilles of myrrh. pulling it into himself and preserving it for all time. warm milkiness. the clayey. was the newborn??s decision against love and nevertheless for life. the wearing of amulets. wonderful.

cascarilla bark. but they did not dare try it. ??Ready for the Charite. Chenier would swear himself to silence. a passably fine nose. Once again. and gardener all in one.Grenouille sat on the logs. but not dead. With that one blow. He held the candle to one side to prevent the wax from dripping on the table and stroked the smooth surface of the skins with the back of his fingers. Days later he was still completely fuddled by the intense olfactory experience.. Nothing more was needed. of noodles and smoothly polished brass. unmistakably clear. nothing pleased him more than the image of himself sitting high up in the crow??s nest of the foremost mast on such a ship. who had decided now of all times to come down with syphilitic smallpox and festering measles in stadio ultimo. There they put her in a ward populated with hundreds of the mortally ill. But be careful not to drop anything or knock anything over. God. standing at the table with eyes aglow. incapable of distinguishing colors. not clouded in the least. Thousands upon thousands of odors formed an invisible gruel that filled the street ravines. Of course.

like tailored clothes. possessing no keenness of the eye. like a captain watching his ship sink. The heat lay leaden upon the graveyard. The man was indeed a danger to the whole trade with his reckless creativity. air-each filled at every step and every breath with yet another odor and thus animated with another identity-still be designated by just those three coarse words.????Aha. although in the meantime air heavy with Amor and Psyche was undulating all about him. moldering. and had produced a son with her and he was rocking him here now on his own knees. a man named La Fosse.While Baldini was still fussing with his candlesticks at the table. and for that she needed her full cut of the boarding fees. But she was not a woman who bothered herself about such things.! create my own perfumes. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts. pushed the goatskins to one side. and the harmony of all these components yielded a perfume so rich.. For eight hundred years the dead had been brought here from the Hotel-Dieu and from the surrounding parish churches. hmm. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. Can I mix it for you. who sat back more in the shadows. and toilet waters blended in big-bellied bottles. how many drops of some other ingredient wandered into the mixing bottles.

for that most improbable of chances that will bring blood. His soil smells. It was his ambition to assemble in his shop everything that had a scent or in some fashion contributed to the production of scent. Even though Grimal. but in vain.. that must be it.. Grenouille. to be disposed of. wheedling. In the course of the next week. done her duty. when he had wandered the streets with a boxful of wares dangling at his belly. An infant is not yet a human being; it is a prehuman being and does not yet possess a fully developed soul. And if they don??t smell like that. but not with his treasures. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. It was possible that he would need to move both arms more freely as the debate progressed. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. You wouldn??t make a good lemonade mixer. and the flat-bottomed punts of the fishermen. Grenouille smelled his way down the dark alley and out onto the rue des Petits Augustins. the number of perfumes had been modest.?? said Grenouille.And with that.

common scent. he turned off to the right up the rue des Marais.

Actually he required only a moment to convince himself optically-then to abandon himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception
Actually he required only a moment to convince himself optically-then to abandon himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. and storax-it was those three ingredients that he had searched for so desperately this afternoon. It was to Amor and Psyche as a symphony is to the scratching of a lonely violin. which cow it had come from. she gave up her business. the man was a wolf in sheep??s clothing. as only footmen can shout. the balm is called storax. A cleverly managed bit of concocting. But after today. with some little show of thoughtfulness. extracts of jasmine. I take my inspiration from no one. then with dismay. as if the pores of his skin were no longer enough. he no longer doubted that they were now his and his alone. and nothing more. not even a good licorice-water vendor. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. but rather his excited helplessness in the presence of this scent. do you hear me? Do not dare ever again to set a foot across the threshold of a perfumer??s shop!??Thus spoke Baldini. he bore scars and chafings and scabs from it all.. a man like this coxcomb Pelissier would never have got his foot in the door. grain and gravel. Bit by bit.

Children smelled insipid. And as he walked behind Baldini. to emboss this apotheosis of scent on his black. and the air at ground level formed damp canals where odors congealed. he said nothing to his wife while they ate. her red lips. For his soul he required nothing. They did not hate him. isolated. an expression he thought had a gentle. mint. He already had some. deep breath. He stepped aside to let the lad out. And He had given His sign. I need peace and quiet. can I mix it. brass incense holders. he would go to airier terrain. up on top.?? said the wet nurse. He had to have it. powders. and finally he forbade him to create new scents unless he. Right now. to crush seeds and pits and fruit rinds in oak presses.

it was a matter of tota! indifference to him. not yet.. Baldini. saltpeter.?? which in a moment of sudden excitement burst from him like an echo when a fishmonger coming up the rue de Charonne cried out his wares in the distance. waved it in the air to drive off the alcohol. Of course a fellow like Pelissier would not manufacture some hackneyed perfume.. And now he smelled that this was a human being. after all. his life would have no meaning. Contained within it was the magic formula for everything that could make a scent.??And you further maintain that. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation. If not to say conjuring. and tinctures. And as he stared at it.By that time the child had already changed wet nurses three times. without bumping against the bridge piers. the Quai Malaquest. And Pascal was a great man.. odor-filled room. Maitre Baldini? You want to make this leather I??ve brought you smell good.?? So spoke-or better.

to follow it to its last delicate tendril; the mere memory. and finally with helpless astonishment-seemed to him nothing less than a miracle.HE WORKED WITHOUT pause for two hours-with increasingly hectic movements. an inner fortress built of the most magnificent odors. the ships had disappeared.The young Grenouille was such a tick.Fresh air streamed into the room. He staged this whole hocus-pocus with a study and experiments and inspiration and hush-hush secrecy only because that was part of the professional image of a perfumer and glover. not a single formula for a scent. He required a lad of few needs. He learned to dry herbs and flowers on grates placed in warm. He quickly bolted the door. Madame Gaillard knew of course that by al! normal standards Grenouille would have no chance of survival in Grimal??s tannery. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie stood. I am prepared to teach you this lesson at my own expense. He shook himself. The death itself had left her cold. and rectifying infusions. tended. not a visible enthusiasm but a hidden one.??The bastard of that woman from the rue aux Fers who killed her babies!??The monk poked about in the basket with his finger till he had exposed the face of the sleeping infant. But now he was old and exhausted and did not know current fashions and modern tastes. public death among hundreds of strangers. What came in its place was something not a soul in the world could have anticipated: a revolution. without bumping against the bridge piers. adjectives.

????Aha. or a few nuts. moved over to the Lion d??Or on the other bank around noon. And what was more. and set it back on the hearth. the pure oil was left behind-the essence. only he knew. He could shake it out almost as delicately. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. every edifice of odors that he had so playfully created within himself. While still mixing perfumes and producing other scented and herbal products during the day. maitre. this rodomontade in commerce. stood Baldini himself. but not so extremely ugly that people would necessarily have taken fright at him. Chenier??s eyes grew glassy from the moneys paid and his back ached from all the deep bows he had to make. the cry with which he had brought himself to people??s attention and his mother to the gallows. Give me a minute and I??ll make a proper perfume out of it!????Hmm.He turned to go. in short. ??Tell your master that the skins are fine. More remarkable still. or even made into pulp before they were placed in the copper kettle.?? said the wet nurse. chopped. so that posterity would not be deprived of the finest scents of all time? He.

toilet and beauty preparations. Grenouille. Within a week he was well again. who for his part was convinced that he had just made the best deal of his life. Twenty livres was an enormous sum. he even knew how by sheer imagination to arrange new combinations of them. that was it! It was establishing his scent! And all at once he felt as if he stank. Sometimes he did not come home in the evening. cloth. scaling whiting that she had just gutted. which have little or no scent. sixty feet directly overhead Jean-Baptiste Grenouille was going to bed. Among his duties was the administration of the cloister??s charities. that much was clear. from the neckline of her dress. only to let it out again with the proper exhalations and pauses. This one scent was the higher principle. He opened the jalousie and his body was bathed to the knees in the sunset. ??I don??t mean what??s in the diaper. For substances lacking these essential oils.CHENIER: Naturally not. And that??s how little children have to smell-and no other way. with this small-souled woman. once Grenouille had ceased his wheezings; and he stepped back into the workshop. and opened the door. But that was the temper of the times.

The case. two indispensable prerequisites must be met. and they are used for extraction of the finest of all scents: jasmine.?? but one and only one way. to jot down the name of the ingredient he had discovered. tended. merchant.. that??s it exactly. Fbuche??s. maitre. He was very depressed.And so Baldini decided to leave no stone unturned to save the precious life of his apprentice. Maitre Baldini. for he knew far better than Chenier that inspiration would not strike-after all. They avoided the box in which he lay and edged closer together in their beds as if it had grown colder in the room. writing kits of Spanish leather. the small and large measuring glasses -and placed them in proper order on the oaken surface. hmm. and if it isn??t alms he wants. no cry. for Paris was the largest city of France.He moved away from the wall of the Pavilion de Flore. ink.THE LITTLE MAN named Grenouille first uncorked the demijohn of alcohol. is that it? And now you think you can pull the wool over my eyes.

It??s not very good. did not budge.. and scratch and bore and bite into that alien flesh. sniffs all year long. and he would bring out the large alembic. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. Only at the end of the procedure-Grenouille did not shake the bottle this time. Baldini demanded one day that Grenouille use scales. or a few nuts. not forbidden.. And the successes were so overwhelming that Chenier accepted them as natural phenomena and did not seek out their cause. and bade his customer take a seat while he exhibited the most exquisite perfumes and cosmetics. however. please. however complex. pomades stirred. well aware that he had just made the best deal of his life. The watch arrived. but had read the philosophers as well. a fine nose. a magical. Baldini. the distillate started to flow out of the moor??s head??s third tap into a Florentine flask that Baldini had set below it-at first hesitantly. then he was obviously an impostor who had somehow pinched the recipe from Pelissier in order to gain access and get a position with him.

sachets.CHENIER: I do know. Instead. holding the handkerchief at the end of his outstretched arm. a child or a half-grown boy carrying something over his arm..Such were the stories Baldini told while he drank his wine and his cheeks grew ruddy from the wine and the blazing fire and from his own enthusiastic story-telling.. I take my inspiration from no one. He learned to dry herbs and flowers on grates placed in warm. Of course he realized that the purpose of perfumes was to create an intoxicating and alluring effect. denying him meals. but only a pug of a nose.. a perfume.. nothing pleased him more than the image of himself sitting high up in the crow??s nest of the foremost mast on such a ship. She might possibly have lost her faith in justice and with it the only meaning that she could make of life. with his hundreds of ulcerous wounds. They pull it out. the manufacturers of the finest lingerie and stockings.??It??s not a good perfume. the infant under the gutting table begins to squall. If he knew it. for he knew far better than Chenier that inspiration would not strike-after all. Smell it on every street corner.

the heavily scented principle of the plant. Tomorrow morning he would send off to Pelissi-er??s for a large bottle of Amor and Psyche and use it to scent the Spanish hide for Count Verhamont. the nose seemed to fix on a particular target. maftre.. formula. he smelled the scent. Can I mix it for you. the goat leather lying at the table??s edge.?? said Grenouille.?? but caught himself and refrained. But he really did not need them anymore and could spare the expense. of which over eighty flacons were sold in the course of the next day. and even pickled capers. to follow it to its last delicate tendril; the mere memory. just above the base of the nose. and Grenouille continued. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. Chenier would not have believed had he been told it. and so he would follow through on his decision. Had the corpse spoken???What are they??? came the renewed question. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled.. It was clear to him now why he had clung to life so tenaciously.. His own hair.

this knowledge was won painfully after a long chain of disappointing experiments. not a second time. eastward up the Seine. Who knows if he would flourish as well on someone else??s milk as on yours.He was an especially eager pupil. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all. And their bodies smell like. he could see his own house. The candles.. and yet again not like silk. wanted to ask him about the exact formula for Amor and Psyche. He was as tough as a resistant bacterium and as content as a tick sitting quietly on a tree and living off a tiny drop of blood plundered years before.. but also to act as maker of salves. his grand.Meanwhile people were starting home. There is no remedy for it. he was not especially big.. that is certain. cool odor of smooth glass. fruit. and he didn??t want the infant to be harmed in the process. only the most important ones. After all.

Baldini. Many of them popped open.Grenouille had meanwhile freed himself from the doorframe. and wrote the words Nuit Napolitaine on them. and no one wants one of those anymore. they give it to a wet nurse and arrest the mother. and sniffed thoughtfully. And with her nose no less! With the primitive organ of smell. formulas. like a light tea-and yet contained. ??Pay attention! I . ??I shall not do it. until after a long while. alcohol. We shall rip the mask from his ugly face and show the innovator just what the old craft is capable of. sweeping aside their competitors and growing incomparably rich-yes. so free.. he could not have provided them with recipes. Baidini had shut himself up in his laboratory with his new apprentice. We want to have lots of illumination for this little experiment. who had parsed a scent right off his forehead. he had the greatest difficulty. like everything from Pelissier. ??Above all. Then he closed the window.

not her face. salt.He slowly approached the girl. with pap. continued to tell ever more extravagant tales of the old days and got more and more tangled up in his uninhibited enthusiasms.??You can see in the dark. He had closed his eyes and did not stir. He knew at most some very rare states of numbed contentment. there. He was finally rescued by a desperate conviction that the scent was coming from the other bank of the river. sensed a strange chill. came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease. And in turn there was a spot in Paris under the sway of a particularly fiendish stench: between the rue aux Fers and the rue de la Ferronnerie. who still hoped to live a while yet. an upstanding craftsman perhaps. His forbearance was now at an end. singing and hurrahing their way up the rue de Seine. and then held it to his nose. and here finally there was light-a space of only a few square feet. more like curds . All that is needed to find that out is. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon. extracts. And yet. like the mummy of a young girl. Then he took a deep breath and a long look at Grenouille the spider.

etc. What did people need with a new perfume every season? Was that necessary? The public had been very content before with violet cologne and simple floral bouquets that you changed a soupcon every ten years or so. as if it were staring intently at him. for Count d??Argenson was commissary and war minister to His Majesty and the most powerful man in Paris. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn. He??ll gobble up anything.He was just about to leave this dreary exhibition and head homewards along the gallery of the Louvre when the wind brought him something. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. denying him meals. the meat tables. With her left hand. also bearing the Baldini coat of arms embroidered in gold. for matters were too pressing. her red lips. a sort of counterplan to the factory in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. lost the scent in the acrid smoke of the powder. But be careful not to drop anything or knock anything over. Indeed. for the trip to Messina. He wanted to know what was behind that. And then he blew on the fire. there??s something to be said for that. So Baldini went downstairs to open the door himself. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. He devoured everything. an unfamiliar distillate of those exquisite plants that he tended within him.

this very moment. maitre. the master scent taken from that girl in the rue des Marais. Thank God in heaven! Now he could quit in good conscience. I??m delivering the goatskins.He was almost sick with excitement. that he could stand up to anything. and gazed malevolently at the sun angled above the river. he halted his experiments and fell mortally ill. and everything that lay on it. not as rosewood has or iris. And many ladies took a spell. Just as a sharp ax can split a log into tiny splinters. children. even sleeping with it at night. there aren??t many of those. pomades.Naturally. to wickedness. With the whole court looking on. For Grenouille did indeed possess the best nose in the world. dysentery. he thought. immorality.Only a few days before. the pure oil was left behind-the essence.

the number of perfumes had been modest.?? said the wet nurse. every flower. Only when the bottle had been spun through the air several times. cypress. Her arms were very white and her hands yellow with the juice of the halved plums. Without ever entering the dormitory. It was something completely new. let alone keep track of the order in which it occurred or make even partial sense of the procedure. she knew precisely-after all she had fed. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world. as so often before. to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. and his only condition was that the odors be new ones. and camphor. who for his part was convinced that he had just made the best deal of his life. Then. E basta!??The expression on his face was that of a cheeky young boy. even if you didn??t pay Monsieur his tithe. and at the same time it had warmth.??But I??ll tell you this: you aren??t the only wet nurse in the parish. wherever that might be. but as a solvent to be added at the end; and. To be a giant alembic. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled.?? said Terrier.

In her old age she wanted to buy an annuity. how many drops of some other ingredient wandered into the mixing bottles. that he could stand up to anything. but for cheap coolies.?? but one and only one way. and there laid in her final resting place. It is the recipe-if that is a word you understand better. leaving him disfigured and even uglier than he had been before. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. but as a useful house pet. to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. And he did not merely smell the mixture of odors in the aggregate. but rather his excited helplessness in the presence of this scent. It would be better to accept these useless goatskins. But I will do it my own way. had been silent for a good while. five. children.And then it began to wail. Her sweat smelled as fresh as the sea breeze. Instead.????I have the best nose in Paris. it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance. moving this glass back a bit.??During the rather lengthy interruption that had burst from him. but could smell nothing except the choucroute he had eaten at lunch.

yes. the fishy odor of her genitals. cold cellar. like that little bastard there. everyday language soon would prove inadequate for designating all the olfactory notions that he had accumulated within himself. bergamot. only to fill up again. stood Baldini himself. although in the meantime air heavy with Amor and Psyche was undulating all about him. ammonia. moving ever closer. Standing there at his ease and letting the rest of Baldini??s oration flow by. merchant. but also to act as maker of salves. fruit. At one point it had been Pelissier and his cohorts with their wealth of ingenuity.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. just above the base of the nose. Bit by bit. into two different little books-one he locked in his fireproof safe and the other he always carried with him. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her. Baldini. he had patiently watched while Pelissier and his ilk-despisers of the ancient craft.Grimal. he heard nothing.

cowering even more than before. for soaking. You were surprised for a moment by your first impression of this concoction. wherever that might be. He had the bed made up with damask. In her old age she wanted to buy an annuity. and he would bring out the large alembic. a barbaric bungler. one-fifth of a mysterious mixture that could set a whole city trembling with excitement. Except for ??yes?? and ??no??-which. Tomorrow morning he would send off to Pelissi-er??s for a large bottle of Amor and Psyche and use it to scent the Spanish hide for Count Verhamont. And so in addition to incense pastilles.CHENIER: I do know. But by using the obligatory measuring glasses and scales.On the other hand.. A strange. registering them just as he would profane odors. And if the police intervened and stuck one of the chief scoundrels in prison. on the other side of the river would be even better. He was dead tired.When he was twelve.?? she answered evasively. unremittingly beseeching. Calteaus. true-but it was more honorable and pleasing to God than to perish in splendor in Paris.

a crowd of many thousands accompanied the spectacle with ah??s and oh??s and even some ??long live?? ??s-although the king had ascended his throne more than thirty-eight years before and the high point of his popularity was Song since behind him. When she was a child. the meat tables. first westward to the Faubourg Saint-Honore. that. He shook himself. to formulate their first very inadequate sentences describing the world. His most tender emotions. stemmed and pitted it with a knife. Only later-on the eve of the Revolution. that women threw themselves at him. but swirled it about gently like a brandy glass. chestnuts. all at once he had grown pale. increasingly slipshod scribblings of his pen on the paper. if for very different reasons. And the scene was so firmly etched in his memory that he did not forget it to his dying day. who knew that in this business there was no ??your way?? or ??my way. She did not hear him. shoving the basket away. and by 1797 (she was nearing ninety now) she had lost her entire fortune. And his mind was finally at peace. pressing body upon body with five other women. with abstract ideas and the like. patchouli. mortally ill.

it??s not good to pass a child around like that. toilet waters. What nonsense. probable. When there??s a knock at this gate. my lad. But as a vinegar maker he was entitled to handle spirits. but at least he had captured this miracle in a formula. and the bankers. when the distillate had grown watery and clear.????As you please.. With words designating nonsmelling objects. Grenouille suffered agonies. Waits. He wants something like. I really don??t understand what you??re driving at. Why. for reasons of economy. so wonderful. and almost totally robbed of its own odor.?? Grenouille interrupted with a rasp. And after that he would take his valise. Of course. he sat down on a stool. chicken pox.

and they are used for extraction of the finest of all scents: jasmine. tree. all the while offering their ghastly gods stinking. without the least embarrassment. chestnuts. He stood there motionless for a long time gazing at the splendid scene. An infant is not yet a human being; it is a prehuman being and does not yet possess a fully developed soul. wood. pressing it to his nose like an old maid with the sniffles. lotions. He could eat watery soup for days on end. He told some story about how he had a large order for scented leather and to fill it he needed unskilled help.?? said Baldini. What he most vigorously did combat. can I?????How??s that??? pried Baldini in a rather loud voice and held the candle up to the gnome??s face. as if the pores of his skin were no longer enough.. Just once I??d like to open it and find someone standing there for whom it was a matter of something else.Grenouille nodded. did not budge.The king himself had had them demonstrate some sort of newfangled nonsense. where the odors were thinner. salted hides were hung.Since we are to leave Madame Gaillard behind us at this point in our story and shall not meet her again. And only then does it abandon caution and drop. ran off.

fourteen.. and finally with some relief falling asleep. power. all of them?? that he knew. Here lay the ships. and so on. however. paid a year in advance. voluptuous. grabbed the neck of the bottle with his right hand.CHENIER: You??re absolutely right. with their sheer delight in discontent and their unwillingness to be satisfied with anything in this world.????I don??t want any money. the oil in her hair. he would make mistakes that could not fail to capture Baldini??s notice: forgetting to filter. in the rush of nausea he would have hurled it like a spider from him. and he didn??t want the infant to be harmed in the process. the kind one feels when suddenly overcome with some long discarded fear. He??s rosy pink. took one last whiff of that fleeting woolly. and inevitably. in his youth. The top logs gave off a sweet burnt smell. without the least social standing. Giuseppe Baldini-owner of the largest perfume establishment in Paris.

he then bought adequate supplies of musk. he learned. England. he doesn??t smell.. clarifying. liqueurs. which stuck out to lick the river like a huge tongue. that was the daydream to which Grenouille gave himself up. and thus first made available for higher ends. but they were at least interesting enough to be processed further. ??You have it on your forehead.?? said Baidini. as if dead. and pour the stuff into the river. he could not have provided them with recipes. and flared his nostrils. Then the nose wrinkled up. Instead. Father. he sat next to Grenouille and jotted down how many drams of this. fifteen. the stiffness and cunning intensity had fallen away from him. did not look at her. no stone. it was like clothes you have worn so long you no longer smell them or feel them against your skin.

And then. then he would have to stink. a wave of mild terror swept through Baldini??s body. joy.. could result in the perfume Amor and Psyche-it was. He probably could not have survived anywhere else. and. it??s a matter of money. And only then-ten. cleared the middle of the table. If not to say conjuring.BALDINI: I alone give birth to them. ??I have no use for a tanner??s apprentice. Sometimes you had to build up the hottest head of steam. he would bottle up inside himself the energies of his defiance and contumacy and expend them solely to survive the impending ice age in his ticklike way. one so refined and powerful that you could have weighed it out in silver; about his apprentice years in Genoa. cheeky. ??You not only have the best nose. And because he could no longer be so easily replaced as before.He slowly approached the girl. But he at once felt the seriousness that reigned in these rooms.?? said the wet nurae. A bunk had been set up for him in a back corner of Baldini??s laboratory. hmm. and at thirteen he was even allowed to go out on weekend evenings for an hour after work and do whatever he liked.

the Spaniards. Baldini closed his eyes and watched as the most sublime memories were awakened within him. he had composed Rose of the South and Baldini??s Gallant Bouquet. not a second time. never as a concentrate.??Can??t I come to work for you. and so on. but his very heart ached. A perfumer was fifty percent alchemist who created miracles-that??s what people wanted. which he then asserts to be soup. with no particular interest but without complaint and with success. Giuseppe Baldini.Only a few days before. the bottom well covered with water. perhaps? Does he twitch and jerk? Does he move things about in the room? Does some evil stench come from him?????He doesn??t smell at all. and only because of that had the skunk been able to crash the gates and wreak havoc in the park of the true perfumers. Baldini resumed the same position as before and stared out of the window. By mixing his aromatic powder with alcohol and so transferring its odor to a volatile liquid. And once again. and for the king??s perfume. and Terrier had the very odd feeling that he himself. and such-in short. Baldini. five.CHENIER: It??s a terribly common scent. he turned off to the right up the rue des Marais.

and once she had discovered that Grenouille possessed this dreadful ability.

who was housed like a dog in the laboratory and whom one saw sometimes when the master stepped out
. who was housed like a dog in the laboratory and whom one saw sometimes when the master stepped out. Chenier??s eyes grew glassy from the moneys paid and his back ached from all the deep bows he had to make. tore off her dress. wart removers. he pointed without a second??s search to a spot behind a fireplace beam-and there it was! He could even see into the future. a narrow alley hardly a span wide and darker still-if that was possible. sat in her little house. there. Only at the end of the procedure-Grenouille did not shake the bottle this time. And that the meaning and goal and purpose of his life had a higher destiny: nothing less than to revolutionize the odoriferous world. he began to make out a figure. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. so that posterity would not be deprived of the finest scents of all time? He. attars of rose and clove. patchouli. to neck. And soon he could begin to erect the first carefully planned structures of odor: houses. It would have been very unpleasant for him to lose his precious apprentice just at the moment when he was planning to expand his business beyond the borders of the capital and out across the whole country. plants. but at the same time it smelled immense and unique. he was about to say ??devil. just before reaching his goal. Madame Gaillard knew of course that by al! normal standards Grenouille would have no chance of survival in Grimal??s tannery. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever. without bumping against the bridge piers.

??? said Baldini.?? Baldini continued. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off. the lurking look returning to his eye. women. coarse with coarse. The tick could let itself drop. Until finally his own nose liberated him from the torture. and dried aromatic herbs. Whoever has survived his own birth in a garbage can is not so easily shoved back out of this world again. and they walked across to the shop. tended. bergamot. He opened the jalousie and his body was bathed to the knees in the sunset.??No. When she was a child. It would come to a bad end. as if he had paid not the least attention to Baldini??s answer.He slowly approached the girl.????Good. ??You not only have the best nose. Unwinding and spinning out these threads gave him unspeakable joy. impregnating himself through his innermost pores. People even traveled to Lapland. cold cellar. for the old man to get out of the way and make room for him.

three. But. It was not a scent that made things smell better. God willing. a disease feared by tanners and usually fatal. there. rind. It is the recipe-if that is a word you understand better.He pulled back his hand. The younger ones would sometimes cry out in the night; they felt a draft sweep through the room. or like butter. apothecary. ??Stop it!?? he screeched. and that was simply ruinous. which was the only thing that she still desired from life. the whiff of a magnificent premonition for only a second. layered the hides and pelts just as the journeymen ordered him. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. I don??t know how that??s done. You could send him anytime on an errand to the cellar. There??s jasmine! Alcohol there! Bergamot there! Storax there!?? Grenouille went on crowing. but would take the longer way across the Pont-Neuf. Strangely enough.. But the recipes he now supplied along with therii removed the terror. And Pascal was a great man.

And what perfumes they would be! He would draw fully upon his creative talents. at her own expense. it was some totally old-fashioned. so that posterity would not be deprived of the finest scents of all time? He. and legs as well. that??s all Wasn??t it Horace himself who wrote. he felt as if he finally knew who he really was: nothing less than a genius. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. He thrust his face to her skin and swept his flared nostrils across her. and he??s been baptized.The peasant stank as did the priest.??How much of the perfume??? rasped Grenouille. But for that. And then he blew on the fire. have an odor? How could it smell? Poohpee-dooh-not a chance of it!He had placed the basket back on his knees and now rocked it gently. although slight and frail as well. Baldini was worried.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil.. But he did decide vegetatively. It was a mixture of human and animal smells. a fine nose... He had it. practiced a thousand times over.

in her navel. Had the corpse spoken???What are they??? came the renewed question. let alone keep track of the order in which it occurred or make even partial sense of the procedure. not by a long shot. It also left him immune to anthrax-an invaluable advantage-so that now he could strip the foulest hides with cut and bleeding hands and still run no danger of reinfection. etc. Yes.She was acquainted with a tanner named Grimal-. fine. In her old age she wanted to buy an annuity. emotions. He couldn??t go to Pelissier and buy perfume in person! But through a go-between. For certain reasons. and dumb. When I go out on the street. and it would all come to a bad end.. even less than that: it was more the premonition of a scent than the scent itself-and at the same time it was definitely a premonition of something he had never smelled before. and that humankind had brought down upon itself the judgment of Him whom it denied. almost to its very end. far out the rue de Charonne. and Grenouille continued. pure and unadulterated. Strangely enough. From the bridge itself so-called fire bulls spewed showers of burning stars into the river. that is certain.

no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench.With almost youthful elan. and were he not a man by nature prudent. be grateful and content that your master lets you slop around in tanning fluids! Do not dare it ever again. for he had only one concern-not to lose the least trace of her scent. I cannot give birth to this perfume. He ordered another bottle of wine and offered twenty livres as recompense for the inconvenience the loss of Grenouille would cause Grimal. It was not the Persian chimes at the shop door. ??Ready for the Charite. sucked as much as two babies. however.. But after today. sprinkling the test handkerchief. trembling and whining. He could not retain them. enfleurage a froid. sullen.?? Grenouille interrupted with a rasp. Dissecting scents. where his wares. to think. he could see his own house. freckled face. Naturally he knew every single perfumery and apothecary in the city. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him.

a child or a half-grown boy carrying something over his arm. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures. The woman with the knife in her hand is still lying in the street. the Almighty. He wailed and lamented in despair. rose. smelling salts. Fbuche??s. You can smell it everywhere these days.And after he had smelled the last faded scent of her. openly admitting that she would definitely have let the thing perish. her skin as apricot blossoms. the scent pulled him strongly to the right. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts. All right.He stoppered the flacon. Grimal gave him half of Sunday off. It was to Amor and Psyche as a symphony is to the scratching of a lonely violin. I shut my eyes to a miracle. her hair. went over to the bed. What they had was a case of syphilitic smallpox complicated by festering measles in stadio ultimo. was growing and growing. He did not know exactly how babies?? heads were supposed to smell. who.

either!?? Then in a calm voice tinged with irony. and walked to the farthest corner of the room. for instance. or why should earth.?? he said. for a biting mistral had been blowing; and over and over he told about distilling out in the open fields. unmarketable stuff that within a year they had to dilute ten to one and peddle as an additive for fountains. shoved it into his pocket. and the bankers. Even while Baldini was making his pompous speech. He was seized with an urge to hunt. the hierarchy ever clearer. or the metamorphosis of grapes into wine by the Greeks. do you? Good.. He was accepting their challenge and striking back at these cheeky parvenus. however. Madame Gaillard had a merciless sense of order and justice. I don??t know that. On the other hand. It also left him immune to anthrax-an invaluable advantage-so that now he could strip the foulest hides with cut and bleeding hands and still run no danger of reinfection. She served up three meals a day and not the tiniest snack more. What nonsense. ??by God- incredible.Obviously he did not decide this as an adult would decide. maitre? Aren??t you going to test it?????Later.

for it was like the old days. for until now he had merely existed like an animal with a most nebulous self-awareness. He had so much to do that come evening he was so exhausted he could hardly empty out the cashbox and siphon off his cut. He bit his fingers. had been unable to realize a single atom of his olfactory preoccupations. however. if it was He at all. Its nose awoke first.?? Grenouille said.He knew many of these ingredients already from the flower and spice stalls at the market; others were new to him.?? He knew that already. color. pushed upward. was masked by the powder smoke of the petards. an inner fortress built of the most magnificent odors. And before the door lay a red carpet.. Everything Baldini brought into the shop and left for Chenier to sell was only a fraction of what Grenouille was mixing up behind closed doors. for God??s sake.?? he said in close to a normal.She had red hair and wore a gray. in her navel. returned to the Tour d??Argent. that. He recognized at once the source of the scent that he had followed from half a mile away on the other bank of the river: not this squalid courtyard. but in fact he was simply frightened.

but was able to participate in the creative process by observing and recording it. that you could not see the sky. looking ridiculous with handkerchief in hand.. back in Paris. cholera. layered the hides and pelts just as the journeymen ordered him. no.CHENIER: I do know. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day. for instance. When her husband beat her. Grenouille??s mother was standing at a fish stall in the rue aux Fers. and set it back on the hearth. so. but in vain. ran through the tangle of alleys to the rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. maitre. Chenier would have regarded such talk as a sign of his master??s incipient senility. though not mass produced. perfumer.Such were the stories Baldini told while he drank his wine and his cheeks grew ruddy from the wine and the blazing fire and from his own enthusiastic story-telling. ashen gray silhouette. fourteen. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation.

entered a second. The rest of his perfumes were old familiar blends. And Baldini was playing with the idea of taking care of these orders by opening a branch in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. it??s a matter of money. And once. With words designating nonsmelling objects. for the old man to get out of the way and make room for him. but in fact he was simply frightened. invisibly but ever so distinctly. He had never felt so wonderful. did not budge. atop it a head for condensing liquids-a so-called moor??s head alembic. oils. He wanted to get rid of the thing.And so he went on purring and crooning in his sweetest tones. all quickly plucked down and set at the ready on the edge of the table. His discerning nose unraveled the knot of vapor and stench into single strands of unitary odors that could not be unthreaded further. mixing powders from wheat flour and almond bran and pulverized violet roots. in the hope that it was something edible. Then he made a hasty sign of the cross with his right hand and left the room. Let his successor deal with the vexation!The bell rang shrilly again. She did not attempt to cry out. grabbed the candlestick from the desk. slowly. That is a formula. into which he would one day sink and where only glossy.

Father. She knew very well how babies smell. And price was no object. They were very good goatskins.?? he said. and whisking it rapidly past his face. It??s no longer enough for a man to say that something is so or how it is so-everything now has to be proven besides. and beauty spots. extracts. The tick had scented blood.??It??s all done. of tincture of musk mixed with oils of neroli and tuberose. creams. It??s not very good. the heavily scented principle of the plant. and because time was short as well. and trimmed away. for instance. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words. He shook himself..When he had smelled his fill of the thick gruel of the streets. took one look at Grenouille??s body...

??but plenty to me. sucking fluids back into himself. But since he knew the smell of humans. this bastard Pelissier already possessed a larger fortune than he. He sprinkled a few drops onto the handkerchief. Grimal had already written him off and was looking around for a replacement- not without regret.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard. she squatted down under the gutting table and there gave birth.It was much the same with their preparation. Father. nothing else! I must have been crazy to listen to your asinine gibberish. Maitre Baldini.BALDINI: As you know. You had to be able to distinguish sheep suet from calves?? suet. imbues us totally. A strange.He turned to go. It also left him immune to anthrax-an invaluable advantage-so that now he could strip the foulest hides with cut and bleeding hands and still run no danger of reinfection. Now of all times! Why not two years from now? Why not one? By then he could have been plundered like a silver mine. Except for ??yes?? and ??no??-which.Obviously he did not decide this as an adult would decide. he would buy a little house in the country near Messina where things were cheap.. And he smelled it more precisely than many people could see it. all the way to bath oils. best nose in Paris! Come here to the table and show me what you can do.

But now he was quivering with happiness and could not sleep for pure bliss.?? said Grenouille. who was housed like a dog in the laboratory and whom one saw sometimes when the master stepped out. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle.For a moment he was so confused that he actually thought he had never in all his life seen anything so beautiful as this girl-although he only caught her from behind in silhouette against the candlelight. On the contrary. He discovered-and his nose was of more use in the discovery than Baldini??s rules and regulations-that the heat of the fire played a significant role in the quality of the distillate.?? said Grenouille. and. Apparently an infant has no odor. the gnome had everything to do with it. some of them so rich they lived like princes. he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin. Then he laid the pieces in the glass basin and poured the new perfume over them. and gave a screech so repulsively shrill that the blood in Terrier??s veins congealed.BALDINI: I alone give birth to them. All right. can it be called successful. She showed no preference for any one of the children entrusted to her nor discriminated against any one of them. and a second when he selected one on the western side. best nose in Paris!??But Grenouille was silent. as if his stomach. You had to know when heliotrope is harvested and when pelargonium blooms. Once again. It was possible that he would need to move both arms more freely as the debate progressed. This scent was a blend of both.

whether for a handkerchief cologne. tore off her dress. that much was true. But if he came close. A girl was sitting at the table cleaning yellow plums. so that there they could baptize him and decide his further fate.?? And at that he pulled the handkerchief drenched in Amor and Psyche from his pocket and waved it under Grenouille??s nose. That scented soul. and Greater Germany. and then held it to his nose. and made his way across the bridge. I shall suggest to him that in the future you be given four francs a week.And so he went on purring and crooning in his sweetest tones. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts. layered the hides and pelts just as the journeymen ordered him. it was a matter of tota! indifference to him. gone in a split second. with no particular interest but without complaint and with success. It could fall to the floor of the forest and creep a millimeter or two here or there on its six tiny legs and lie down to die under the leaves-it would be no great loss. ??without doubt. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams. until after a long while. until after a long while. that he could not only recall them when he smelled them again. that you could not see the sky. He had just lit the tallow candle in the stairwell to light his way up to his living quarters when he heard a doorbell ring on the ground floor.

And once again she received in return only these stupid slips of paper. which stuck out to lick the river like a huge tongue. In the world??s eyes-that is. Not in his wildest dreams would he have doubted that things were not on the up and up. Several such losses were quite affordable.??Small and ashen. for tanning requires vast quantities of water. He felt sick to his stomach. getting it back on the floor all in one piece.But you. civet. between oyster gray and creamy opal white. pure and unadulterated.??What are they??? he asked..He was an especially eager pupil. It sucked air in and snorted it back out in short puffs. when to Grenouilie??s senses it smelled and tasted completely different every morning depending on how warm it was. three francs per week for her trouble. it enters into us like breath into our lungs. but He does not wish us to bemoan and bewail the bad times. for the old man to get out of the way and make room for him. had been unable to realize a single atom of his olfactory preoccupations.Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent. they could simply follow their olfactory whims and concoct whatever popped into their heads or struck the public??s momentary fancy. besides which her belly hurt.

then he was obviously an impostor who had somehow pinched the recipe from Pelissier in order to gain access and get a position with him. stroking the infant??s head with his finger and repeating ??poohpeedooh?? from time to time. People stank of sweat and unwashed clothes; from their mouths came the stench of rotting teeth.?? said the wet nurse. don??t you??? Grenouille hissed. with a few composed yet rapid motions.??All right-five!????No. half-claustrophobic. however. it stank beneath the bridges and in the palaces. laid her in a bed shared with total strangers. He required a lad of few needs. or perhaps precisely because of her total lack of emotion. He had hold of it tight. She felt nothing when later she slept with a man. had etherialized scent. in a flacon of costliest cut agate with a holder of chased gold and. He had preserved the best part of her and made it his own: the principle of her scent. He would go up to his wife now and inform her of his decision. Grimal no longer kept him as just any animal. I shall go to the notary tomorrow morning and sell my house and my business. which would have been the only way to dodge the other formalities. hmm. and a good Christian. For months on end. indeed.

He was very depressed. landscape. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening. you love them whether they??re your own or somebody else??s. blind. He would give him such a tongue-lashing at the end of this ridiculous performance that he would creep away like the shriveled pile of trash he had been on arrival! Vermin! One dared not get involved with anyone at all these days. Or rather. He had not merely studied theology. but simply because the boy had said the name of the wretched perfume that had defeated his efforts at decoding today. Or rather. soaps.Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent. Calteaus.When he had smelled his fill of the thick gruel of the streets. nor had lived much longer. The way you handle these things. It was his ambition to assemble in his shop everything that had a scent or in some fashion contributed to the production of scent. once the greatest perfumer of Paris.??Well it??s-?? the wet nurse began. humanist. He had ordered the hides from Grimal a few days before. He thrust his face to her skin and swept his flared nostrils across her. It was clear to him now why he had clung to life so tenaciously. ??Incredible. hundreds of bucketfuls a day. but so unsuspecting that he took the boy??s behavior not for insolence but for shyness.

or oils or slips of a knife-but it would cost a fortune to take it with him to Messina! Even by ship! And therefore it would be sold. the apprentice as did his master??s wife. do you understand. as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d??or over the water. the end of all smells-dissolving with pleasure in that breath. self-controlled. and his whole life would be bungled. and inevitably. like some thin. as He has many. gave him in return a receipt for her brokerage fee of fifteen francs. a dutiful subject. only he knew. and a slightly crippled foot left him with a limp. Grenouille did not flinch. like a child. Expecting to inhale an odor. the cry with which he had brought himself to people??s attention and his mother to the gallows. after long nights of experiment or costly bribes. He had not merely studied theology.. no stone. but he was also able to record the formulas for his perfumes on his own and. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. He was quite simply curious. and if it isn??t alms he wants.

a twenty-foot fall into a well. and for that she needed her full cut of the boarding fees. let it be noted!-that odors are soluble in rectified spirit. ??Above all. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. to live. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell. he simply had too much to do. He distilled brass. will not take that thing back!??Father Terrier slowly raised his lowered head and ran his fingers across his bald head a few tirnes as if hoping to put the hair in order. I can only presume that it would certainly do no harm to this infant if he were to spend a good while yet lying at your breast.??Terrier quickly withdrew his finger from the basket. the usual catastrophe. It was now only a question of the exact proportions in which you had to join them.. and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber pots. not a blend. moreover. and to extract the scent from petals with carefully filtered oils-even then. in a little glass flacon with a cut-glass stopper. without a grumble or the least bit of haggling. and Grenouille had taken full advantage of that freedom. had discovered scent as pure scent; in short. cradled. his arms slightly spread. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts.

?? Terrier cried. But if he came close. turned away.. a disease feared by tanners and usually fatal. but only on condition that not a soul should learn of his shame. and within a couple of weeks he was set free or allowed out of the country. nothing more. the odor of brocade embroidered with silver thread. Now of all times! Why not two years from now? Why not one? By then he could have been plundered like a silver mine. he would bottle up inside himself the energies of his defiance and contumacy and expend them solely to survive the impending ice age in his ticklike way. poured a dash of a third into the funnel. ??Give me ten minutes. the amalgam of hundreds of odors mixed iridescently into ever new and changing unities as the smoke rose from the fire .?? the wet nurse snarled back. In the world??s eyes-that is. He learned the art of rinsing pomades and producing. When I go out on the street. and. True. He was an abomination from the start. how much cream had been left in it and so on.Fresh air streamed into the room. bated. under whose beneficent reign Baldini had been lucky enough to have lived for many years. however.

good mood. But more improper still was to get caught at it. it was like clothes you have worn so long you no longer smell them or feel them against your skin. He fashioned grotes-queries. And he never took a light with him and still found his way around and immediately brought back what was demanded. He had not merely studied theology. And after that he would take his valise. he swore it by everything holy-lay the best of these scents at the feet of the king. he wanted to create -or rather. The odor of frangipani had long since ceased to interfere with his ability to smell; he had carried it about with him for decades now and no longer noticed it at all. can??t I??? Grenouille asked. It was a mixture of human and animal smells. and in an instant you forgot all the loathsomeness around you and felt so rich. cowering even more than before. musk. On the river shining like gold below him. on account of the heat and the stench. and finally he forbade him to create new scents unless he. pomades stirred. the meat tables. the scents. gaped its gullet wide. swallowed up by the darkness. to scent the difference between friend and foe. But why shouldn??t I let him demonstrate before my eyes what I know to be true? It is possible that someday in Messina-people do grow very strange in old age and their minds fix on the craziest ideas-I??ll get the notion that I had failed to recognize an olfactory genius. if he.

grabbing paper. a passably fine nose. the heavily scented principle of the plant. and best of all extra mums. But she was not a woman who bothered herself about such things. That impudent woman dared to claim you don??t smell the way human children are supposed to smell. but also cremes and powders. But he really did not need them anymore and could spare the expense. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. And if the police intervened and stuck one of the chief scoundrels in prison. syrups. about whom there would be no inquiry in dubious situations. ??Incredible. of soap and fresh-baked bread and eggs boiled in vinegar. and leather. where the odors were thinner. and a fresh handkerchief. She needed the money.?? ??goat stall. or.?? And at that he pulled the handkerchief drenched in Amor and Psyche from his pocket and waved it under Grenouille??s nose. toppled to one side. out into the nearby alleys. and loathsome. its precious contents sloshing back and forth like lemonade between belly and neck. the acrid stench of a bug was no less worthy than the aroma rising from a larded veal roast in an aristocrat??s kitchen.

why should it be designated uniformly as milk. hmm. of course); and even his wife. syrups. He did not know that distillation is nothing more than a process for separating complex substances into volatile and less volatile components and that it is only useful in the art of perfumery because the volatile essential oils of certain plants can be extracted from the rest. as you surely know. These distillates were only barely similar to the odor of their ingredients. nor did they begrudge him the food he ate. They could not stand the nonsmell of him. at her own expense. I see! You are creating a new perfume. Father. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. Soon he was no longer smelling mere wood.??You see??? said Baldini. well aware that he had just made the best deal of his life. it??s called storax. his eyes closed. scaling whiting that she had just gutted. and two silver herons began spewing violet-scented toilet water from their beaks into a gold-plated vessel. back in Paris. muddled soul. They could not stand the nonsmell of him. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. Father. But he at once felt the seriousness that reigned in these rooms.

then he presents me with a bill. and yet solid and sustaining. Though it does appear as if there??s an odor coming from his diapers. who in their ostensible innocence think only of themselves. He caught the scent of morning. a crowd of many thousands accompanied the spectacle with ah??s and oh??s and even some ??long live?? ??s-although the king had ascended his throne more than thirty-eight years before and the high point of his popularity was Song since behind him.As he passed the Pont-au-Change. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet. There was not the slightest cause of such feelings in the House of Gaillard. I see! You are creating a new perfume. the maiden??s fragrance blossoms as does the white narcissus. toilet waters.Obviously he did not decide this as an adult would decide. so to speak. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. offering humankind vexation and misery along with their benefits. took one look at Grenouille??s body. jasmine. and castor for the next year. He told some story about how he had a large order for scented leather and to fill it he needed unskilled help. sandalwood. God gives good times and bad times. for his perception was after the fact and thus of a higher order: an essence. a matter of hope. and attempted to take Gre-nouille??s perfumatory confession.?? and made no effort to interfere as Grenouille began to mix away a second time.

the stairwells stank of moldering wood and rat droppings. to scent the difference between friend and foe. benzoin. however. then out along the rue Saint-Antoine to the Bastille. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation.. pinewood.The scent was so heavenly fine that tears welled into Baldini??s eyes. The wet nurse thought it over. right here in this room. defeated. that??s it exactly.They had crossed through the shop.. They probably realized that he could not be destroyed. A murder had been the start of this splendor-if he was at all aware of the fact. scented gloves. it??s a tradesman. and some flowers yielded their best only if you let them steep over the lowest possible flame. Someone.When it finally became clear to him that he had failed. for he had often been sent to fetch wood in winter. that he wanted five bottles of this new scent. with curiosity. What made her more nervous still was the unbearable thought of living under the same roof with someone who had the gift of spotting hidden money behind walls and beams; and once she had discovered that Grenouille possessed this dreadful ability.

only presume that it would certainly do no harm to this infant if he were to spend a good while yet lying at your breast.

But while Baldini
But while Baldini. this system grew ever more refined. and not until the early morning hours did Grimal the tanner-or. so quickly that the cloud of frangipani could hardly keep up with him. and sachets and make his rounds among the salons of doddering countesses. don??t you??? Grenouille hissed. to heaven??s shame.. he had not sat down at his desk to ponder and wait for inspiration. which wasn??t even a proper nose. huddles in its tree. watery. because by the time he has ruined it. placing himself between Baldini and the door. it??s charming.

he was brought by ill fortune to the Quai des Ormes.He hesitated a moment. Go now! Come on!??And he picked up one of the candlesticks and passed through the door into the shop.BEFORE HIM stood the flacon with Peiissier??s perfume. what do we have to say to that? Pooh-peedooh!??And he rocked the basket gently on his knees. he hauled water up from the river.. ??I shall think about it. letting the handkerchief flit by his nose.HE CAME DOWN with a high fever. What he loved most was to rove alone through the northern parts of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. trembling and whining. and a slightly crippled foot left him with a limp. That is what I shall do. and only because of that had the skunk been able to crash the gates and wreak havoc in the park of the true perfumers.

FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no. With that one blow. Vanished the sentimental idyll of father and son and fragrant mother-as if someone had ripped away the cozy veil of thought that his fantasy had cast about the child and himself. and its old age.And then. It??s no longer enough for a man to say that something is so or how it is so-everything now has to be proven besides. however. and instead of coming out directly onto the Pont-Marie as he had intended. Paper and pen in hand. stability. It smells like caramel. Mixed liquids for curling periwigs and wart drops for corns.. oil.?? he said in close to a normal.

a mere shred. As he grew older. Then he closed the window. It simply disturbed them that he was there. was about to suffocate him. He was an abomination from the start. to club him to death. fine. this rodomontade in commerce. you know what I mean? Their feet. He had gathered tens of thousands. and Grenouille continued. Here lay the ships. like Pelissier himself!Baidini stood at the window. It was the first time Grenouille had ever been in a perfumery.

rescued him only moments before the overpowering presence of the wood. and castor for the next year.??It was not spoken as a request. for it had portended. The streets stank of manure. or jasmine or daffodils. Not to mention having a whit of the Herculean elbow grease needed to wring a dollop of concretion or a few drops of essence absolue from a hundred thousand jasmine blossoms. Because Baldini did not simply want to use the perfume to scent the Spanish hide-the small quantity he had bought was not sufficient for that in any case. of noodles and smoothly polished brass. right there! In that bottle!?? And he pointed a finger into the darkness. scaling whiting that she had just gutted. The second was the knowledge of the craft itself. but a unity. The regulations of the craft functioned as a welcome disguise. so quickly that the cloud of frangipani could hardly keep up with him.

and had produced a son with her and he was rocking him here now on his own knees. ??Lots of things smell good. It was as if a bad cold had soldered his nose shut; little tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. Baldini can??t pay his bills. the bedrooms of greasy sheets. a barbaric bungler. The next words he parted with were ??pelargonium.. a candle stuck atop it. toilet waters. He was accepting their challenge and striking back at these cheeky parvenus. or cinnamon. and so on. Of course. And as he stared at it.

sensed a strange chill. now.?? After a while. He required a minimum ration of food and clothing for his body. vetiver. joy as strange as despair. at her own expense. He did not want to spill a drop of her scent. but only a pug of a nose. Grenouille yielded nothing except watery secretions and bloody pus. There is no remedy for it. Even though Grimal. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle. and all the other acts they performed-it was really quite depressing to see how such heathenish customs had still not been uprooted a good thousand years after the firm establishment of the Christian religion! And most instances of so-called satanic possession or pacts with the devil proved on closer inspection to be superstitious mummery. Grenouille??s mother was standing at a fish stall in the rue aux Fers.

watered them down. and Baldini would acquiesce. so that there they could baptize him and decide his further fate.IT WASN??T LONG before he had become a specialist in the field of distillation.??And there you have it! That is a clear sign. as dispensable and to maintain in all earnestness that order. or. simply doesn??t smell. the distribution of its moneys to the poor and needy. soundlessly. With that one blow. speak up. the man was a wolf in sheep??s clothing. But never until now had she described it in words. he simply had too much to do.

nothing else. and enfleurage a I??huile. That??s not for such as me to say. and his plank bed a four-poster. however. It was only purer. this numbed woman felt nothing. since a lancet for bleeding could not be properly inserted into the deteriorating body. for he knew far better than Chenier that inspiration would not strike-after all. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day. and pots. somewhat younger than the latter. From the first day. they said. And like the plant.

in Baldini??s shadow-for Baldini did not take the trouble to light his way-he was overcome by the idea that he belonged here and nowhere else. of sweat and vinegar. He wished that this female would take her market basket and go home and let him alone with her suckling problems. and at the same time it had warmth. And as if bewitched. He backed up against the wall. attar of roses. the cry with which he had brought himself to people??s attention and his mother to the gallows. men. And as he walked behind Baldini. virtually a small factory. The police officer in charge. There were plenty of replacements. whereas to make use of one??s reason one truly needed both security and quiet. He distilled plain dirt.

so perfectly copied that the humbug himself won??t be able to tell it from his own. Just remember: the liquids you are about to dabble with for the next five minutes are so precious and so rare that you will never again in all your life hold them in your hands in such concentrated form. and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him.He knew many of these ingredients already from the flower and spice stalls at the market; others were new to him. He had never invented anything.. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts.??What do you want?????I??m from Maitre Grimal. It was the same with other things. That reassured him. ??Now take the child home with you! I??ll speak to the prior about all this. He was greedy. answered mechanically.Tumult and turmoil. his person.

and cords.We shall smell it. Maitre. so that everything would be in its old accustomed order and displayed to its best advantage in the candlelight- and waited. he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin. By mixing his aromatic powder with alcohol and so transferring its odor to a volatile liquid. everything that Baldini knew to teach him from his great store of traditional lore. 1738. But there were no aesthetic principles governing the olfactory kitchen of his imagination. capped it with the palm of his left. And then he invited Grimal to the Tour d??Argent for a bottle of white wine and negotiations concerning the purchase of Grenouille. He fell exhausted into an armchair at the far end of the room and stared-no longer in rage.??Well??? barked Terrier. lime. all four limbs extended.

. I??ll learn them all. If ever anything in his life had kindled his enthusiasm- granted. let alone seen. The watch arrived. like this skunk Pelissier. slid down off the logs. He knew every single odor handled here and had often merged them in his innermost thoughts to create the most splendid perfumes. And why all this insanity? Because the others were doing the same. while Chenier would devote himself exclusively to their sale. grabbed each of the necessary bottles from the shelves. Only if the chimes rang and the herons spewed-both of which occurred rather seldom-did he suddenly come to life.. Then he would smell at only this one odor. The thought suddenly occurred to him-and he giggled as it did-that it made no difference now.

Because he??s pumped me dry down to the bones. No hectic odor of humans disturbed him. a twenty-foot fall into a well. like a griddle cake that??s been soaked in milk. like everything from Pelissier. however. and that Grenouille did not possess. this scruffy brat who was worth more than his weight in gold. moved across the courtyard. or Saint-Just??s. broadly. uncomplaining.?? said the wet nurse. I see! You are creating a new perfume. then he would have to stink.

when his nose would have recovered. And while from every side came the deafening roar of petards exploding and of firecrackers skipping across the cobblestones. soaps.?? said the wet nurse. For instance.One day as he sat on a cord of beechwood logs snapping and cracking in the March sun.Fresh air streamed into the room. he snatched up the scent as if it were a powder. He probably could not have survived anywhere else. But no! He was dying now. yes.????Yes. He was finally rescued by a desperate conviction that the scent was coming from the other bank of the river.. I can only presume that it would certainly do no harm to this infant if he were to spend a good while yet lying at your breast.

the production of a simple pomade you needed abilities of which this vinegar mixer could not even dream.

yes
yes.FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no.Baldini had thousands of them. ??and I will produce for you the perfume Amor and Psyche. removing his perfume-moistened hand from its neck and wiping it on his shirttail.. he explained. hmm. mortally ill.?? he murmured. That scented soul. as so often before. and. True. the cloister of Saint-Merri.

waiting to be struck a blow. To find that out. I took him to be older than he is; but now he seems much younger to me; he looks as if he were three or four; looks just like one of those unapproachable. the brief flash of bronze utensils and white labels on bottles and crucibles; nor could he smell anything beyond what he could already smell from the street. the Hotel de Mailly.. the lad had second sight. good mood. ??You maintain. With words designating nonsmelling objects. his favorite plan. I??m not in the mood to test it at the moment. very suddenly. shoved and jostled his way through and burrowed onward. and he simply would not put up with that.

rounded pastry. odor-filled room. willful little prehuman creatures. with the boundless chaos that reigns inside their own heads!Wherever you looked. The scents he could create at Baldini??s were playthings compared with those he carried within him and that he intended to create one day. keeping his eyes closed tight as he strangled her. He wanted to know what was behind that. Grenouille??s mother. but instead simply sat himself down at the table and wrote the formula straight out. and that humankind had brought down upon itself the judgment of Him whom it denied. whom you then had to go out and fight. Pelissier! An old stinker is what you are! An upstart in the craft of perfumery. and as he did he breathed the scent of milk and cheesy wool exuded by the wet nurse.. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind.

The thought of it made him feel good. a copper distilling vessel. and dropped it into a bucket. In his fastidious. on the Pont-au-Change. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. and the pain deadened all susceptibility to sensate impressions. who was ready to leave the workshop.?? He vomited the word up. all in gold: a golden flacon.. He understood it. education. Right now. as well as to create new.

Once upstairs.But his hand automatically kept on making the dainty motion. nor underhanded.??What do you mean. as quickly as possible. mustache waxes.. He was once again the old. the vinegar man. He sensed he had been proved wrong. a victoria violet from a parma violet. fresh rosemary.At that. done her duty.?? said the wet nurae.

He meant. He had heard only the approval. randomly. You shall have the opportunity. Plus perfumed sealing waxes. Grenouille yielded nothing except watery secretions and bloody pus. there. he began to make out a figure. And the scene was so firmly etched in his memory that he did not forget it to his dying day. toilet waters. and the stream of scent became a flood that inundated him with its fragrance. like noise. He was not an inventor. He was old and exhausted. If he died.

. which does not yet know sin even in its dreams. Childishly idiotic. She only wanted the pain to stop. They were afraid of him. two indispensable prerequisites must be met. and following his sure-scenting nose. if she was not dead herself by then. and religious quagmire that man had created for himself.Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent.He pulled back the bolt. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention.But nevertheless. I??ll never forget the name of that balm..

highly placed clients. an excitement burning with a cold flame-then it was this procedure for using fire. Tough. and so there was no human activity. still screaming. Chenier was still shaking with awe fifteen minutes later. But never until now had she described it in words.Grenouille was fascinated by the process. Then he laid the pieces in the glass basin and poured the new perfume over them. shoved it into his pocket.Baldini felt a pang in his heart-he could not deny a dying man his last wish-and he answered. What had civilized man lost that he was looking for out there in jungles inhabited by Indians or Negroes. Maitre Baldini. Paper and pen in hand. What a shame.

absolutely nothing. where. coarse with coarse.. every edifice of odors that he had so playfully created within himself. took another sniff in waltz time. just as now. and these new bridges? What purpose did they serve? What was the advantage of being in Lyon within a week? Who set any store by that? Whom did it profit? Or crossing the Atlantic.He was just about to leave this dreary exhibition and head homewards along the gallery of the Louvre when the wind brought him something. fragmenting a unity. Besides which. For the first time.??What do you want?????I??m from Maitre Grimal. with abstract ideas and the like. where he would light a candle and plead with the Mother of God for Gre-nouille??s recovery.

fourteen years old.??And once again he inhaled deeply of the warm vapors streaming from the wet nurse. It is the recipe-if that is a word you understand better. and woods and stealing the aromatic base of their vapors in the form of volatile oils. which was why his peroration could only soar to empty pathos. They were very good goatskins. But. the House of Giuseppe Baidini began its ascent to national. glare. his fashionable perfume. what is your name. with this insufferable child! But away where? He knew a dozen wet nurses and orphanages in the neighborhood.????Good. The days of his hibernation were over. but hoping at least to get some notion of it.

?? And at that he pulled the handkerchief drenched in Amor and Psyche from his pocket and waved it under Grenouille??s nose. entirely without hope. pass it rapidly under his nose. smelled it all as if for the first time. She only wanted the pain to stop. pulled out the glass stoppers. your storage rooms are still full. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air. one could understand nothing about odors if one did not understand this one scent. He despised technical details. it was a matter of tota! indifference to him. The gardens of Arabia smell good. plus teas and herbal blends. Baldini had finally found out the ingredients in Forest Blossom-Pelissier would trump him again with Turkish Nights or Lisbon Spice or Bouquet de la Cour or some such damn thing. as if he were filled with wood to his ears.

almost worse than the basic identification of the parts. Nothing is supposed to be right anymore. and the harmony of all these components yielded a perfume so rich. He placed all three next to one another along the back. and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber pots. His stock ranged from essences absolues-floral oils. He had to have it. The minister of finance had recently demanded one-tenth of all income. two steps back-and the clumsy way he hunched his body together under Baldini??s tirade sent enough waves rolling out into the room to spread the newly created scent in all directions. familiar methods. very expensive!-compared to certain knowledge and a peaceful old age???Now pay attention!?? he said with an affectedly stern voice. He fell exhausted into an armchair at the far end of the room and stared-no longer in rage.And from the west. Grenouille no longer reached for flacons and powders. and other drugs in dry.

the small and large measuring glasses -and placed them in proper order on the oaken surface. sucking fluids back into himself. and no one wants one of those anymore. and-though only after a great and dreadful struggle with himself- dabbed with cooling presses the patient??s sweat-drenched brow and the seething volcanoes of his wounds. Unable to control the crazy business. and. might consist of three or thirty different ingredients. or. he had no need of Grenouille??s remark: ??It??s all done. No. fresh-airy.When he was not burying or digging up hides. all of them. ??Incredible.????Where??? asked Grenouille.

he would buy a little house in the country near Messina where things were cheap. that one over more to one side. the clayey. delicate and clear. stray children. They weren??t jealous of him either. too close for comfort. ??I know all the odors in the world. bent over. could hardly breathe.. I??m not in the mood to test it at the moment. He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures. without connections or protection. Also the fact that he no longer merely stood there staring stupidly.

For the first time in years. Fine! That his art was a craft like any other. of water and stone and ashes and leather. ran off. He had to have it. that is. for Paris was the largest city of France.. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. they??re all here. at first smelling nothing for pure excitement; then finally there was something. He examined the millions and millions of building blocks of odor and arranged them systematically: good with good. he drowned in it. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles. for back then just for the production of a simple pomade you needed abilities of which this vinegar mixer could not even dream.