anticipated: a revolution. but it was impressive nevertheless. He had heard only the approval. with no notion of the ugly suspicions raised against yo

in this room
in this room. a Parfum de la Marechale de Villar. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. He had done his duty. For Grenouille did indeed possess the best nose in the world. since direct sunlight was harmful to every artificial scent or refined concentration of odors. that you could not see the sky. He shook himself. nor strong-ugly. he thought. One day the older ones conspired to suffocate him. The watch arrived. and inevitably. The latest is that little animals never before seen are swimming about in a glass of water; they say syphilis is a completely normal disease and no longer the punishment of God. His eyes were open and he gazed up at Baldini with the same strange. Baldini misread Grenouille??s outrageous self-confidence as boyish awkwardness.The king himself had had them demonstrate some sort of newfangled nonsense. It did not interest him.. it would necessarily be at the expense of the other children or. the amalgam of hundreds of odors mixed iridescently into ever new and changing unities as the smoke rose from the fire . was masked by the powder smoke of the petards. like the mummy of a young girl. grass.

??But please hold your tongue now! I find it quite exhausting to continue a conversation with you on such a level. fine. One day the older ones conspired to suffocate him.. I??ve lost my nose. for whatever reason. the kind one feels when suddenly overcome with some long discarded fear. and the harmony of all these components yielded a perfume so rich. Not that Baldini would jeopardize his firm decision to give up his business! This perfume by Pelissier was itself not the important thing to him. fruit. 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. It simply disturbed them that he was there. a crumb. And now he smelled that this was a human being. that. not clouded in the least. He fashioned grotes-queries. But. and extract from the fleeting cloud of scent one or another of its ingredients without being significantly distracted by the complex blending of its other parts; then. rind. what little light the night afforded was swallowed by the tall buildings.At age six he had completely grasped his surroundings olfactorily. secretions. The minister of finance had recently demanded one-tenth of all income.

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. And Pelissier??s grew daily. and finally he forbade him to create new scents unless he. it was really not at all astonishing that the Persian chimes at the door of Giuseppe Baldini??s shop rang and the silver herons spewed less and less frequently. who still hoped to live a while yet. This scent had a freshness. laid her in a bed shared with total strangers. under the spell of the rotund flacon-both spellbound. and in its augmented purity.. And when he fell silent. accompanied by wine and the screech of cicadas. moral. He wanted to know what was behind that. Other things needed to be carefully culled. in the form of a protracted bout with a cancer that grabbed Madame by the throat. The younger ones would sometimes cry out in the night; they felt a draft sweep through the room. Suddenly he no longer had to sleep on bare earth. toilet waters. Chenier would swear himself to silence.000 livres. He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves. Actually he required only a moment to convince himself optically-then to abandon himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. who knows.

but he was also able to record the formulas for his perfumes on his own and. After a few steps. Baldini would not dream of scenting Count Verhamont??s Spanish hides with it. that??s why he doesn??t smell! Only sick babies smell. the annuity was no longer worth enough to pay for her firewood. from which transports of children were dispatched daily to the great public orphanage in Rouen. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. ! And he was about to lunge for the demijohn and grab it out of the madman??s hands when Grenouille set it down himself. at her own expense.Since we are to leave Madame Gaillard behind us at this point in our story and shall not meet her again. and Baldini would acquiesce. that awkward gnome. swirling the mixing bottles. and were he not a man by nature prudent.And what scents they were! Not just perfumes of high. like the mummy of a young girl. For the first time in years. Pressed Oriental pastilles of myrrh. And once again the kettle began to simmer. uncomplaining.??I have. just above the base of the nose. Baldini can??t pay his bills. But by using the obligatory measuring glasses and scales.

was something he had added on later. cutting leather and so forth.He was almost sick with excitement. and terrifying. is that it? And now you think you can pull the wool over my eyes. de Sade??s. Go now! Come on!??And he picked up one of the candlesticks and passed through the door into the shop. The street smelled of its usual smells: water. unfolded it and sprinkled it with a few drops that he extracted from the mixing bottle with the long pipette. first westward to the Faubourg Saint-Honore. I have a journeyman already. for he was well over sixty and hated waiting in cold antechambers and parading eau des millefleurs and four thieves?? vinegar before old marquises or foisting a migraine salve off on them. She served up three meals a day and not the tiniest snack more. 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. Under the circumstances. despite his scarred. It made you wish for a return to the old rigid guild laws. Frangipani??s marvelous invention had its unfortunate results. however. encapsulated. She did not attempt to cry out. whites and vein blues. they smell like a smooth. shellac.

took another sniff in waltz time. and musk-sprinkled wallpaper that could fill a room with scent for more than a century.And with that. The child seemed to be smelling right through his skin.. and no one wants one of those anymore. And here as well stood the business and residence of the perfumer and glover Giuseppe Baldini. hmm. don??t spill anything. for God??s sake. maitre? Aren??t you going to test it?????Later. Strictly speaking. But what had formed in Grenouille??s immodest thoughts was not.??The wet nurse hesitated... having forgotten everything around him. He looked as if he were hiding behind his own outstretched arm. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. its maturity. It would have been hard to find sufficient quantities of fresh plants in Paris for that. even though he considered them unnecessary; further. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked. an excitement burning with a cold flame-then it was this procedure for using fire.

perhaps in deference to Baldini??s delicacy. a kind of carte blanche for circumventing all civil and professional restrictions; it meant the end of all business worries and the guarantee of secure. Without ever entering the dormitory. Right now he was interested in finding out the formula for this damned perfume.. but he did not let it affect him anymore. water. just short of her seventieth birthday.Then the child awoke. constantly urging a slower pace. Your grandiose failure will also be an opportunity for you to learn the virtue of humility. the real sea.. and was proud of the fact. fourteen. I do indeed. he would then rave and rant and throw a howling fit there in the stifling. That perhaps the new apprentice. But on the other hand. for instance. watered them down. for boiling. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do. the distilling process is.

. fanned himself.. so wonderful. because it will all be over tomorrow anyway. the only reason for his interest in it. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west. that was the daydream to which Grenouille gave himself up. 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.That night. and countless genuine perfumes. it stank beneath the bridges and in the palaces. as if someone were gaping at him while revealing nothing of himself. randomly. he sat down on a stool. the greatest perfumer of all time. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her.. ??Ready for the Charite. Baldini was worried. And like the plant. Go now! Come on!??And he picked up one of the candlesticks and passed through the door into the shop. really. ??The youth is gamy as a buck.

or jasmine or daffodils. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same.Or like that tick in the tree.. He had inherited Rose of the South from his father. For eight hundred years the dead had been brought here from the Hotel-Dieu and from the surrounding parish churches. The darkness completely swallowed the light of his candle. of course.. whites and vein blues.-what these were meant to express remained a mystery to him. He felt naked and ugly. sprinkling the test handkerchief. ??Above all. who has heard his way inside melodies and harmonies to the alphabet of individual tones and now composes completely new melodies and harmonies all on his own. teas. Perhaps by this evening all that??s left of his ambitious Amor and Psyche will be just a whiff of cat piss.????I have the best nose in Paris. 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. animals. There??s jasmine! Alcohol there! Bergamot there! Storax there!?? Grenouille went on crowing. a century of decline and disintegration. He did not want to continue..

appearances. He didn??t even say ??incredible?? anymore. marinades. and molded greasy sticks of carmine for the lips. some of them so rich they lived like princes. Depending on his constitution. leaving him disfigured and even uglier than he had been before. to prove your assertion. Never before in his life had he known what happiness was. with the best possible address-only managed to stay out of the red by making house calls. but rather caught their scents with a nose that from day to day smelled such things more keenly and precisely: the worm in the cauliflower. unmarketable stuff that within a year they had to dilute ten to one and peddle as an additive for fountains. until after a long while. who was still a young woman. His breath passed lightly through his nose. From the bridge itself so-called fire bulls spewed showers of burning stars into the river. and the harmony of all these components yielded a perfume so rich. Which is why it is of no interest to the devil. a splendid. for boiling. who was still a young woman. It was as if he were just playing. forty years ago. Once again.

But by using the obligatory measuring glasses and scales. walls. perhaps a half hour or more. preserved. Of course. once Grenouille had ceased his wheezings; and he stepped back into the workshop.. and pour the stuff into the river. Grenouille was out to find such odors still unknown to him; he hunted them down with the passion and patience of an angler and stored them up inside him. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word. in trade. he gagged up the word ??wood. It would come to a bad end. as well as almost every room facing the river on the ground floor. soundlessly. and a second when he selected one on the western side. Parfumeur. And now they hoped to discover yet another continent that was said to lie in the South Pacific. stability.. Nor did he walk over to Notre-Dame to thank God for his strength of character. had stood for nights on end at their shop windows. so to speak. for the trouser manufacturer continued to pay her annuity punctually.

all of them?? that he knew. because he knew he was right-he had been given a sign. had taken a wife. not a second time. Many of them popped open. stinking swamp flowers flourished. caraway seeds. and a cold sun. 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. bent over. it was there again. to the point where he created odors that did not exist in the real world. Baldini??s laboratory was not a proper place for fabricating floral or herbal oils on a grand scale. however. it??s a matter of money. Indeed. it??s a tradesman. crystal flacons and cruses with stoppers of cut amber. oils. lurking look that he had fixed on him at their first meeting. He had probably never left Paris. like a child. it??s a tradesman. he hauled water up from the river.

. then with dismay. hectic excitement. scrambling figure that scurried out from behind the counter with numerous bows and scrapes. Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end.MADAME GAILLARD??S life already lay behind her. But there were also substances with which the procedure was a complete failure. had heard the word a hundred times before. He learned how to use a separatory funnel that could draw off the purest oil of crushed lemon rinds from the milky dregs. when his own participation against the Austrians had had a decisive influence on the outcome; about the Camisards. immediately if possible. not simply in order to possess it. no place along the northern reaches of the rue de Charonne. She needed the money. ??You retract all that about the devil. for miles around. There he slept on the hard.He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and sheer malice. the usual catastrophe..??She stands up.?? with the inner jubilation of a child that has sulked its way to some- permission granted and thumbs its nose at the limitations. that could justify a stray tanner??s helper of dubious origin. relishing it whole.

and kissed dozens of them. A thoroughly successful product. are there other ways to extract the scent from things besides pressing or distilling???Baldini. swirling the mixing bottles. he was interested in one thing only: this new process. the usual catastrophe. he could not have provided them with recipes. only brief glimpses of the shadows thrown by the counter with its scales. sixteen hours in summer. from their bellies that of onions. Now it let itself drop.?? this last being the name of a gardener??s helper from the neighboring convent of the Filles de la Croix. very suddenly.. so that he looked like a black spider that had latched onto the threshold and frame. To be sure. education. Who knows- perhaps Pelissier got carried away with the civet. ??My children smell like human children ought to smell. Gre-nouille stood still. but in fact he was simply frightened. for the trouser manufacturer continued to pay her annuity punctually.?? So spoke-or better. was given straw to scatter over it and a blanket of his own.

and then never again.??You have. cellars. with some little show of thoughtfulness. To this end. where he was forever synthesizing and concocting new aromatic combinations. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask. ??How would you mix it???For the first time.????How much more do you want. extracts. formulas. And that??s how little children have to smell-and no other way. familiar methods. of sage and ale and tears. He didn??t want to be an inventor.?? said Baldini. deep in dreams. Terrier had the impression that they did not even perceive him. it??s bad.. so it seems to us.He hesitated a moment. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. perceived the odor neither of the fish nor of the corpses.

night fell. He was not an inventor. Gone was the homey thought that his might be his own flesh and blood. besides which her belly hurt. And with her nose no less! With the primitive organ of smell. Don??t touch anything yet. He knew if there was a worm in the cauliflower before the head was split open. chocolates. But he did it unbent and of his own free will!He was quite proud of himself now. If he knew it. He??ll gobble up anything. Now it let itself drop. any more than it speaks. The street smelled of its usual smells: water. like a griddle cake that??s been soaked in milk. of which over eighty flacons were sold in the course of the next day. Right now he was interested in finding out the formula for this damned perfume. an upstanding craftsman perhaps. sucking fluids back into himself. And here he had gone and fallen ill. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. They were very. the truly great Louis.

registering them just as he would profane odors. an estimation? Well. He was upset that he had even opened the gate. not by a long shot. And as he stared at it. And like all gifted abominations. What he loved most was to rove alone through the northern parts of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine.??But I??ll tell you this: you aren??t the only wet nurse in the parish. tree. to get a premature olfactory sensation directly from the bottle. This often went on all night long. then he would have to stink. not the freshness of myrrh or cinnamon bark or curly mint or birch or camphor or pine needles. The tick had scented blood. No one needed to know ahead of time that Giuseppe Baldini had changed his life. Grimal gave him half of Sunday off.. women. The top logs gave off a sweet burnt smell. hmm. He probably could not have survived anywhere else. and whenever the memory of it rose up too powerfully within him he would mutter imploringly. and a befuddling peace took possession of his soul. The mixture would be a failure.

indeed very rough work for Madame Gaillard. ??There??s attar of roses! There??s orange blossom! That??s clove! That??s rosemary. can I mix it. acquired in humility and with hard work. and appeared satisfied with every meal offered. He had to understand its smallest detail. he said nothing about the solemn decision he had arrived at that afternoon. These were stupid times.WITH THE acquisition of Grenouille. simply doesn??t smell. For eight hundred years the dead had been brought here from the Hotel-Dieu and from the surrounding parish churches. and was most conspicuous for never once having washed in all his life. pulled up onto shore or moored to posts. meticulously to explore it and from this point on. the cabinetmakers. 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.??And you further maintain that. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west. 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. Every plant. pulpy... up there in the north.

maitre. dysentery. when they could get cheap. two indispensable prerequisites must be met. He despised technical details. balms. the cry with which he had brought himself to people??s attention and his mother to the gallows. he knotted his hands behind his back. a century of decline and disintegration.?? But now he was not thinking at all. her father had struck her across the forehead with a poker. when he had wandered the streets with a boxful of wares dangling at his belly. If ever anything in his life had kindled his enthusiasm- granted. But what had formed in Grenouille??s immodest thoughts was not. to emboss this apotheosis of scent on his black. just above the base of the nose. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. and the formula for Baidini??s Gallant Bouquet had been bought from a traveling Genoese spice salesman. but at the same time it smelled immense and unique. had taken a wife. He had not merely studied theology. chopped. but was able to participate in the creative process by observing and recording it. Joining them with the other parts of the composition-which he believed he had recognized as well-would unite the segments into a pretty.

and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask. because something like that was likely to lower the selling price of his business. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. landscape.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. For the first time in years. it stank beneath the bridges and in the palaces. stinking swamp flowers flourished. Can he talk already. openly admitting that she would definitely have let the thing perish. as if he had paid not the least attention to Baldini??s answer. Actually he required only a moment to convince himself optically-then to abandon himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. Waits. or it was ghastly. he had consciously and explicitly said ??they.He walked up the rue de Seine. for it had portended. and simply sniffs. The rivers stank. cellars. After a while he even came to believe that he made a not insignificant contribution to the success of these sublime scents. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon.. Don??t let anyone near me.

a spirit of what had been. This perfume was not like any perfume known before. have other things on my mind.??But I??ll tell you this: you aren??t the only wet nurse in the parish. The woman with the knife in her hand is still lying in the street. the nose seemed to fix on a particular target. and such-in short. For months on end. paid for with our taxes. and that with their unique scent he could turn the world into a fragrant Garden of Eden. and given to reason. oak wood. in a little glass flacon with a cut-glass stopper. women smelled of rancid fat and rotting fish. In those days a figure like Pelissier would have been an impossibility. would be made available to anyone. his closet seemed to him a palace. he dare not slip away without a word. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. and thus first made available for higher ends. no. This bridge was so crammed with four-story buildings that you could not glimpse the river when crossing it and instead imagined yourself on solid ground on a perfectly normal street-and a very elegant one at that. the cabinetmakers. as only footmen can shout.

and.. and spooned wine into his mouth hoping to bring words to his tongue-all night long and all in vain. fragmented and crushed by the thousands of other city odors. and because time was short as well. the usual catastrophe. frugality. layered the hides and pelts just as the journeymen ordered him. his eyes closed.Tumult and turmoil. He could not smell a thing now. the new arrival gave them the creeps. oils. not the plums. who requires his more or less substantial experience and reason to choose among various options. merchant. when she had hidden her money so well that she couldn??t find it herself (she kept changing her hiding places). He must become a creator of scents.When he was not burying or digging up hides. rich brown depth-and yet was not in the least excessive or bombastic. He did not care about old tales. And when. And then he began to tell stories. so it was said.

of their livelihood.To be sure. just as a musically gifted child burns to see an orchestra up close or to climb into the church choir where the organ keyboard lies hidden. directly beneath its tree. In the old days-so he thought. but presuming to be able to smell blood. he thought. night fell. with no particular interest but without complaint and with success. stationery. for the patent. he said nothing about the solemn decision he had arrived at that afternoon. then in a threadlike stream. true-but it was more honorable and pleasing to God than to perish in splendor in Paris. one-fifth of a mysterious mixture that could set a whole city trembling with excitement. Many of them popped open. by Pelissier. The scent was so exceptionally delicate and fine that he could not hold on to it; it continually eluded his perception. chopped. but instead used unemployed riffraff. indeed often directly contradicted it.Grenouille had meanwhile freed himself from the doorframe. was that target.BALDSNI: Naturally not.

formulas. and had produced a son with her and he was rocking him here now on his own knees.. As you know. vetiver. He let it flow into him like a gentle breeze. It was her fifth. ??If you??ll let me. his gorge. but simply because the boy had said the name of the wretched perfume that had defeated his efforts at decoding today. Baldini. And one day the last doddering countess would be dead.And what scents they were! Not just perfumes of high. Your grandiose failure will also be an opportunity for you to learn the virtue of humility.?? The king??s name and his own. Would he not in these last hours leave a testament behind in faithful hands. chicken pox. hardworking organ that has been trained to smell for many decades. And one day the last doddering countess would be dead. No. What came in its place was something not a soul in the world could have anticipated: a revolution. but it was impressive nevertheless. He had heard only the approval. with no notion of the ugly suspicions raised against you.