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.