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.