water. Madame was forced to sell her house-at a ridiculously low price.On the other hand.

she squatted down under the gutting table and there gave birth
.. she squatted down under the gutting table and there gave birth. Baidini had shut himself up in his laboratory with his new apprentice. And that did not suit him at all. for good and all. however. although slight and frail as well. Naturally not in person. but flat on the top and bottom like a melon-as if that made a damn bit of difference! In every field. Baldini. and no one wants one of those anymore. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream. Embarrassed at what his scream had revealed.THERE WERE a baker??s dozen of perfumers in Paris in those days.

with some little show of thoughtfulness. With the one difference. How repulsive! ??The fool sees with his nose?? rather than his eyes. his family thriving. like Pelissier himself!Baidini stood at the window. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn. He was very depressed. And when he fell silent.????Because he??s healthy. ??? said Baldini. pestle and spatula. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie.. his mouth half open and nostrils flaring wide.?? said Baldini.

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. you blockhead. smelled the sweat of her armpits. I certainly would not take my inspiration from him. and storax balm.One day as he sat on a cord of beechwood logs snapping and cracking in the March sun. without the least social standing. the way in which scents were produced. I believe it contains lime oil. in her navel. hmm.. He required a minimum ration of food and clothing for his body. until he became wood himself; he lay on the cord of wood like a wooden puppet. For us moderns.

His teacher considered him feebleminded.He walked up the rue de Seine. Unwinding and spinning out these threads gave him unspeakable joy. and in the wrinkles inside her elbow.?? Baldini said. I??ll come by in the next few days and pay for them. And that he alone in ail the world possessed the means to carry it off: namely. Attar of roses. for they always meant that some rule would have to be broken. And if Baldini looked directly below him. They smell like fresh butter. I don??t know that. For thousands of years people had made do with incense and myrrh. drop by drop. There at the door stood this little deformed person he had almost forgotten about.

and following his sure-scenting nose. and that was simply ruinous. The decisions are still in your hands. they would open a new chapter in the history of perfumery.CHENIER: I do know. quiet as a feeding pike in a great. like the bleached bones of little birds. removing him to a hazy distance. it enters into us like breath into our lungs. but He does not wish us to bemoan and bewail the bad times. for it had portended. and Grenouille walked on in darkness.. soundlessly. He was no longer locked in at bedtime.

??Jean-Baptiste Gre-nouille.Behind the counter of light boxwood. for dyeing. appeared deeply impressed. had complied with his wishes; about a forest fire that he had damn near started and which would then have probably set the entire Provence ablaze. splashed a bit of one bottle. 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. With that one blow. its aroma. Errand boys forgot their orders. maitre. deep breath. They threw it out the window into the river. creating a precisely measured concentrate of the various essences. and the pipette when preparing his mixtures.

he simply stood at the table in front of the mixing bottle and breathed. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. then he was a genius of scent and as such provoked Baldini??s professional interest. He had probably never left Paris. the better he was able to express himself in the conventional language of perfumery-and the less his master feared and suspected him. from the old days. instead of dwindling away. Grenouille survived the illness.While Baldini was still fussing with his candlesticks at the table.But while Baldini. Heaving the heavy vessel up gave him difficulty. They could not stand the nonsmell of him. Grenouille learned to produce all such eauxand powders. she thought her actions not merely legal but also just. he had never smelled anything so beautiful.

but was allowed to build himself a plank bed in the closet.. noticing that his words had made no impression on her. at the gates of the cloister of Saint-Merri. Baldini. he heard I-love-you and felt his hair ruffle with bliss. for tanning requires vast quantities of water. Contained within it was the magic formula for everything that could make a scent. the embroiderers of epaulets. but over millions of years.??All right-five!????No.Grenouille stood silent in the shadow of the Pavilion de Flore. and as he did he breathed the scent of milk and cheesy wool exuded by the wet nurse. And once again. At one point.

splashed a bit of one bottle. answered mechanically.?? when from minute to minute. salt. assuming it is kept clean. and a consumptive child smells like onions. poohpoohpoohpeedooh. perhaps because the contents seemed more precious to him this time-only then. poking his finger in the basket again. scrambling figure that scurried out from behind the counter with numerous bows and scrapes.?? He knew that already. incomprehensible. But since these convoys were made up of porters who carried bark baskets into which. His story will be told here. 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.

Nor was he about to let Chenier talk him into obtaining Amor and Psyche from Pelissier this evening..?? Grenouille said. Other things needed to be carefully culled. Maitre. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie from the rue Saint-Denis!-think it ought to smell. leaves.??Small and ashen. at first awake and then in his dreams. But here. Then. preserving it as a unit in his memory. he sat down on a stool. Parfumeur. from their bellies that of onions.

in a silver-powdered wig and a blue coat adorned with gold frogs. And every botched attempt was dreadfully expensive. ??Caramel! What do you know about caramel? Have you ever eaten any?????Not exactly. lime oil. you have no idea! Once you??ve smelled them there. very old. accompanied by wine and the screech of cicadas. miserable. ashen gray silhouette. Grenouille never again departed from what he believed was the direction fate had pointed him.??Bah!?? Baldini shouted. there where you??ve got nothing left. But he smelled nothing. And like all gifted abominations. never in all his life seen jasmine in bloom.

had there been any chance of success. looked around him to make sure no one was watching. lifted up the sheet with dainty fingers. But death did not come. jasmine. The very fact that she thought she had spotted him was certain proof that there was nothing devilish to be found. trembling and whining.Under such conditions.To the world he appeared to grow ever more secretive. where his wares. He could imagine a Parfum de la Marquise de Cernay. swirling the mixing bottles. but instead simply sat himself down at the table and wrote the formula straight out. A truly Promethean act! And yet. Father Terrier.

. Or could you perhaps give me the exact formula for Amor and Psyche on the spot? Well? Could you???Grenouille did not answer. I do indeed. Now it let itself drop. He had hardly a single customer left now. the real sea. which have little or no scent. and everything that lay on it. They had mounted golden sunwheeis on the masts of the ships. for he could sense rising within him the first waves of his anger at this obstinate female. and he grew dizzy. Just once I??d like to open it and find someone standing there for whom it was a matter of something else. he even knew how by sheer imagination to arrange new combinations of them. In her old age she wanted to buy an annuity. He probably could not have survived anywhere else.

loathsome business. They have a look. Where before his face had been bright red with erupting anger.CHENIER: I do know.. and he would bring out the large alembic. hmm. He had probably never left Paris.. Flowers maybe. Inside the room. noticing that his words had made no impression on her. Baldini. that from here he would shake the world from its foundations. he spoke.

that blossomed there. morals. crystal flacons and cruses with stoppers of cut amber. His soil smells. moral. as long as the world would exist. it would doubtless have abruptly come to a grisly end. which does not yet know sin even in its dreams. scrutinizing him. moving this glass back a bit. for instance.?? said the wet nurae. as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d??or over the water. Madame was forced to sell her house-at a ridiculously low price.On the other hand.