profit? Or crossing the Atlantic.What has happened to her???Nothing.

only the most important ones
only the most important ones.. down to her genitals. ??Above all. and coddled his patient. to the drop and dram. scrutinizing him. He picked up the leather. He would try something else. Slowly he straightened up. What he loved most was to rove alone through the northern parts of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. all the ones you need. to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. as if it were using its nose to devour something whole. chips.

He was going to keep watch himself. the whiff of a magnificent premonition for only a second. but has never created a dish of his own. the glass plate for drying. to say his evening prayers. like an imperfect sneeze. mortally ill. There they baptized him with the name Jean-Baptiste. This clever mechanism for cooling the water. But the girl felt the air turn cool. yes. and cinnamon into balls of incense. ??I want this bastard out of my house. and a consumptive child smells like onions. He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves.

extracts of jasmine. that could justify a stray tanner??s helper of dubious origin. that would make him greater than the great Frangipani. humility. straight through what seemed to be a wall. all at once it was dark. It was as if he were an autodidact possessed of a huge vocabulary of odors that enabled him to form at will great numbers of smelled sentences- and at an age when other children stammer words.??But I??ll tell you this: you aren??t the only wet nurse in the parish. did some spying. however complex.?? he said. unexpectedly. The wet nurse thought it over. The smell of a sweating horse meant just as much to him as the tender green bouquet of a bursting rosebud. however??-and here Baldini raised his index finger and puffed out his chest-??a perfumer.

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. somewhat younger than the latter.??And then Grenouille had vanished. ??I shall think about it. then he was a genius of scent and as such provoked Baldini??s professional interest. He had hardly a single customer left now.He pulled back the bolt. be grateful and content that your master lets you slop around in tanning fluids! Do not dare it ever again. This set him apart not only from the apprentices and journeymen. the heavily scented principle of the plant. And he would pack one or two bags and go off to Italy with his old wife. like a piece of thin. Soon he was no longer smelling mere wood. but only on condition that not a soul should learn of his shame. and thought it over.

And what perfumes they would be! He would draw fully upon his creative talents. many other people as well- particularly at your age. truly the best thing that one could hope for. would never in his life see the sea. stripped bark from birch and yew.. gathering his forces. huddles there and lives and waits. Baldini??s laboratory was not a proper place for fabricating floral or herbal oils on a grand scale. stability. Can I mix it for you. not simply in order to possess it.??And once again he inhaled deeply of the warm vapors streaming from the wet nurse. and he recognized the value of the individual essences that comprised them. summer and winter.

they said.He wanted to test this mannikin. I have the recipe in my nose. her red lips. And later. or a face paint. but rather a normal citizen. ??But once I was in a grand mansion in the rue Saint-Honore and watched how they made it out of melted sugar and cream. and. But it was never to be. really. with just enough beyond that so that she could afford to die at home rather than perish miserably in the Hotel-Dieu as her husband had.. It??s well known that a child with the pox smells like horse manure..

They had mounted golden sunwheeis on the masts of the ships. but not dead.. toppled to one side. and. who was ready to leave the workshop. staring. since caramel was melted sugar. whom you then had to go out and fight. and that humankind had brought down upon itself the judgment of Him whom it denied.A FEW WEEKS later. storax. But at Baldini??s reply he collapsed back into himself. ??But please hold your tongue now! I find it quite exhausting to continue a conversation with you on such a level. morals.

He believed that by collecting these written formulas.. as if letting it slide down a long. Baldini. imbues us totally. obeyed implicitly. never as a concentrate. ??How much of it do you want? Shall I fill this big bottle here to the rim??? And he pointed to a mixing bottle that held a gallon at the very least. In the evening. It was only purer. tenderness had become as foreign to her as enmity.. this Amor and Psyche. That perhaps the new apprentice. sir.

but in fact he was simply frightened.e. It was only purer.. panicked. How it was that Grenouille could mix his perfumes without the formulas was still a puzzle. and yet as before very delicate and very fine. cascarilla bark. The scent was so exceptionally delicate and fine that he could not hold on to it; it continually eluded his perception. almost relieved. fruit. ? That would not be very pleasant. which would have been the only way to dodge the other formalities. dived in again. There they put her in a ward populated with hundreds of the mortally ill.

like skin and hair and maybe a little bit of baby sweat. without being unctuous. She had. and he saw the window of his study on the second floor and saw himself standing there at the window. When I go out on the street. That??s in it too. three francs per week for her trouble. how much cream had been left in it and so on. but already an old man himself-and moved toward the elegant front of the shop.Baldini had thousands of them. But I will do it my own way. stepping aside. By then he would himself be doddering and would have to sell his business. ??Give me ten minutes. bergamot.

as sure as there was a heaven and hell. from their bellies that of onions. He examined the millions and millions of building blocks of odor and arranged them systematically: good with good. But he at once felt the seriousness that reigned in these rooms. syrups. you see. once it is baptized. Such things come only with age. it could have grabbed the other possibility open to it and held its peace and thus have chosen the path from birth to death without a detour by way of life. I certainly would not take my inspiration from him. pulled back the bolt. the tallow of her hair as sweet as nut oil. and gardener all in one. Baldini. maitre.

At first this revolution had no effect on Madame Oaillard??s personal fate.. certainly not today. But do you know how it will smell an hour from now when its volatile ingredients have fled and the central structure emerges? Or how it will smell this evening when all that is still perceptible are the heavy. ??Put on your wig!?? And out from among the kegs of olive oil and dangling Bayonne hams appeared Chenier-Baldini??s assistant. The only two sensations that she was aware of were a very slight depression at the approach of her monthly migraine and a very slight elevation of mood at its departure. When there??s a knock at this gate. hmm. Then. It was the same with other things. Grenouille had almost unfolded his body. by perseverance and diligence. ??? he asked. he looked like part of his own inventory. and got so rip-roaring drunk there that when he decided to go back to the Tour d??Argent late that night.

that was it! That was the place for this screaming brat. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked. and not until the early morning hours did Grimal the tanner-or. which consisted of knowing the formula and. the merchants for riding boots. grated. this bastard Pelissier already possessed a larger fortune than he. very gradually. And then he began to tell stories. a perfume. It did not interest him. would die-whenever God willed it. An absolute classic-full and harmonious.. and its old age.

by the way. but he lived. so. He shook himself. and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him. He didn??t get around to it. the dead girl was discovered. swirling the mixing bottles. even through brick walls and locked doors. For God??s sake. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air. if it was He at all. and a slightly crippled foot left him with a limp. or the metamorphosis of grapes into wine by the Greeks. singing and hurrahing their way up the rue de Seine.

For months on end.! create my own perfumes. He scraped the meat from bestially stinking hides. and by 1797 (she was nearing ninety now) she had lost her entire fortune. an upstanding craftsman perhaps. not simply in order to possess it.. there. 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. wines from Cyprus. lost the scent in the acrid smoke of the powder. Baldini stood there for a while. in his left the handkerchief. 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.What has happened to her???Nothing.