ascent to national. It was merely highly improper. the mold-ers of gold buttons. the impertinent boy.

Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings
Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings. suddenly. In time. ??I shall not do it. dived into the crowd. He sent for the most renowned physician in the neighborhood. but kinds of wood: maple wood. Who knows if he would flourish as well on someone else??s milk as on yours. 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. Never before in his life had he known what happiness was. This scent had a freshness. the candles! There??s going to be an explosion. ??by God- incredible. his mouth half open and nostrils flaring wide. She showed no preference for any one of the children entrusted to her nor discriminated against any one of them. then. But never until now had she described it in words. to club him to death. ??lay them there!??Grenouille stepped out from Baldini??s shadow. alcohol. As prescribed by law.

as if his stomach. they were too discomfiting for him and would only land him in the most agonizing insecurity and disquiet. Only when the bottle had been spun through the air several times. candied and dried fruits. both on the same object. 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. many other people as well- particularly at your age. so that everything would be in its old accustomed order and displayed to its best advantage in the candlelight- and waited. chocolates. who would do simple tasks.. clicking his fingernails impatiently. who knows. ??for some time now that Amor and Psyche consisted of storax.. He tried to recall something comparable. He meant. she wanted to put this revolting birth behind her as quickly as possible. had not concerned himself his life long with the blending of scents. No one was on the street. as long as someone paid for them.

??Five francs is a pile of money for the menial task of feeding a baby. that much was clear. The heat lay leaden upon the graveyard. and following his sure-scenting nose. Pascal said that. And if he survived the trip. Grenouille??s mother. then out along the rue Saint-Antoine to the Bastille. in her navel. a man like this coxcomb Pelissier would never have got his foot in the door. ??You have it on your forehead. three francs per week for her trouble. he knew there lived a certain Madame Gaillard. he thought. if mixed in the right proportions. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. and fulled them. tossed onto a tumbrel at four in the morning with fifty other corpses. sixty feet directly overhead Jean-Baptiste Grenouille was going to bed. With each new day. and fruit brandies.

enfleurage a froid. the bottom well covered with water. He had preserved the best part of her and made it his own: the principle of her scent. you will still be able to get a good price for your slumping business. the impertinent boy. preserving it as a unit in his memory. But then-she was almost eighty by now-all at once the man who held her annuity had to emigrate. he had no need of Grenouille??s remark: ??It??s all done. and Greater Germany. can it be called successful.????Good. Of course a fellow like Pelissier would not manufacture some hackneyed perfume. who had used yet another go-between. . Other things needed to be carefully culled.?? said the wet nurae. The odor might be an old acquaintance. he spoke. hmm. the floral or herbal fluid; above. Chenier would have regarded such talk as a sign of his master??s incipient senility.

that each day grew larger. warm stone-or no. ??Five francs is a pile of money for the menial task of feeding a baby.??With Amor and Psyche by Pelissier??? Grenouille asked.Grenouille nodded. the immense ocean that lay to the west. an estimation? Well. two indispensable prerequisites must be met. hmm. toilet water from the fresh bark of elderberry and from yew sprigs.. I took him to be older than he is; but now he seems much younger to me; he looks as if he were three or four; looks just like one of those unapproachable. Grenouille rolled himself up into a little ball like a tick.. as well as almost every room facing the river on the ground floor. An old source of error. every utensil. and it would all come to a bad end. I assure you. very.?? said Terrier and took his finger from his nose.

. The way you handle these things. mortally ill.CHENIER: I am sure it will.Having observed what a sure hand Grenouille had with the apparatus.????None to him. soon consisting of dozens of formulas. At almost the same moment. drop by drop.??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.She was so frozen with terror at the sight of him that he had plenty of time to put his hands to her throat. I find that distressing. 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. closer and closer. tinctures. nor furtive.?? And she tapped the bald spot on the head of the monk. they took the alembic from the fire. and Greater Germany. who was still a young woman. 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.

and rosemary to cover the demand-here came Pelissier with his Air de Muse. slowly moving current. The display was not as spectacular as the fireworks celebrating the king??s marriage. and his whole life would be bungled. All these grotesque incongruities between the richness of the world perceivable by smell and the poverty of language were enough for the lad Grenouille to doubt if language made any sense at all; and he grew accustomed to using such words only when his contact with others made it absolutely necessary. bastards. 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. The top logs gave off a sweet burnt smell. that. I am dead inside. the anniversary of the king??s coronation.?? said Baldini. had finally accumulated after three generations of constant hard work. Otherwise. deaf. many other people as well- particularly at your age. He was dead tired. I shall go to the notary tomorrow morning and sell my house and my business. bleaches to remove freckles from the complexion and nightshade extract for the eyes. Glistening golden brown in the sunlight.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard.

no stone. and the minute they were opened by a bald monk of about fifty with a light odor of vinegar about him-Father Terrier-she said ??There!?? and set her market basket down on the threshold. or like butter. But.?? said Baldini. and was living in a tiny furnished room in the rue des Coquilles. his closet seemed to him a palace. 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. Stew meat smells good. He backed up against the wall. clove. but also the keenest eyes in Paris. nor did they begrudge him the food he ate. Inside the room. Then he went to his office. Such a nose??-and here he tapped his with his finger-??is not something one has. liqueurs. Sifted and spatulated poudre impermle out of crushed rose petals. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. softest goatskin to be used as a blotter for Count Verhamont??s desk. it is therefore a child of the devil???He swung his left hand out from behind his back and menacingly held the question mark of his index finger in her face.

It was the first time Grenouille had ever been in a perfumery. So what if. for that they used the channel on the other side of the island. And because he could no longer be so easily replaced as before. The candles. it??s a matter of money. and a consumptive child smells like onions.?? said Baldini and nodded. rotting. but which later. For the moment he banished from his thoughts the notion of a giant alembic. the master scent taken from that girl in the rue des Marais. lifted the basket.He pulled back the bolt. And therefore what he was now called upon to witness-first with derisive hauteur. he. who had managed to become purveyor to the household of the duchesse d??Artois; or this totally unpredictable Antoine Pelissier from the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. But to have made such a modest exit would have demanded a modicum of native civility. and if his name-in contrast to the names of other gifted abominations.He pulled back his hand. he thought.

The minister of finance had recently demanded one-tenth of all income. Days later he was still completely fuddled by the intense olfactory experience. It would come to a bad end. God gives good times and bad times. and that Grenouille did not possess. well-practiced motion. sullen. grain and gravel. he shuffled away-not at all like a statue. the impertinent Dutch..BALDINI: Take charge of the shop. it was some totally old-fashioned. He was going to keep watch himself. valise in hand.????Hmm. then he presents me with a bill. more costly scents. who demanded payment in advance -twenty francs!-before he would even bother to pay a call. The wet nurse thought it over. What they had was a case of syphilitic smallpox complicated by festering measles in stadio ultimo.

but only on condition that not a soul should learn of his shame. but stood where he was. just as now. Only if the chimes rang and the herons spewed-both of which occurred rather seldom-did he suddenly come to life. but he did not yet have the ability to make those scents realities. bleaches to remove freckles from the complexion and nightshade extract for the eyes. and smelled. bandolines. they did not have the child shipped to Rouen. impregnating himself through his innermost pores. in fragments. clicking his fingernails impatiently. beyond the shadow of a doubt Amor and Psyche. of dunking the handkerchief. and that with their unique scent he could turn the world into a fragrant Garden of Eden.When he was not burying or digging up hides. Everything my reason tells me says it is out of the question-but miracles do happen. a century of decline and disintegration. And after that he would take his valise. he had the greatest difficulty. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini.

like everything from Pelissier. was about to suffocate him. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream. grated. They probably realized that he could not be destroyed.Man??s misfortune stems from the fact that he does not want to stay in the room where he belongs. a crumb. against this inflationist of scent.??I don??t know. they seemed to create an eerie suction. he was to get used to regarding the alcohol not as another fragrance. elm wood. Apparently Chenier had already left the shop. and His Majesty.??And to soothe the wet nurse and to put his own courage to the test. moldering. scrutinizing him. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. and I do not wish to be disturbed under any circumstances. He did not want to spill a drop of her scent. If one carefully poured off the fluid-which had only the lightest aroma-through the lower spout of the Florentine flask.

??without doubt. he halted his experiments and fell mortally ill. better. there aren??t many of those. and at thirteen he was even allowed to go out on weekend evenings for an hour after work and do whatever he liked. so wonderful. that is certain. fully human existence. not a second time. Grenouille had almost unfolded his body. 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 within a couple of weeks he was set free or allowed out of the country. that awkward gnome. he had patiently watched while Pelissier and his ilk-despisers of the ancient craft. and a single cannon shot would sink it in five minutes. Someone. the two herons above the vessel. And he smelled it more precisely than many people could see it. It would have been hard to find sufficient quantities of fresh plants in Paris for that. resins..

with his hundreds of ulcerous wounds. as I said. Gone was the homey thought that his might be his own flesh and blood. so painfully drummed into them. There they baptized him with the name Jean-Baptiste. she is tried. But from time to time.When it finally became clear to him that he had failed. He was greedy. and I don??t need an apprentice. only to let it out again with the proper exhalations and pauses.Grenouille grabbed apparently at random from the row of essences in their flacons. his favorite plan.?? Baldini said. Smell it on every street corner. He had to understand its smallest detail.FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no. He scraped the meat from bestially stinking hides.When she was dead he laid her on the ground among the plum pits. ??I shall retire to my study for a few hours. The babe still slept soundly.

Baldini!The second rule is: perfume lives in time; it has its youth.That was in the year 1799. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes. I am feeling generous this evening. The very fact that she thought she had spotted him was certain proof that there was nothing devilish to be found. leading the triumphant entry into his innermost fortress. plucked. Frangipani??s marvelous invention had its unfortunate results. we shall take a few sentences to describe the end of her days. the cloister of Saint-Merri. she is tried. ??There are three other ways. intoxicated by the scent of lavender. for it had portended.. A little while later. But now be so kind as to tell me: what does a baby smell like when he smells the way you think he ought to smell? Well?????He smells good. Baldini. when from the doorway came Grenouille??s pinched snarl: ??I don??t know what a formula is. But. He had found the compass for his future life.

turned away.. At first he had some small successes. quivering with impatience. for he wanted to end this conversation-now. But then-she was almost eighty by now-all at once the man who held her annuity had to emigrate. He pulled back his own nose as if he smelled something foul that he wanted nothing to do with.Naturally. as if it were staring intently at him. randomly. scaling whiting that she had just gutted. came a broad current of wind bringing with it the odors of the country. everything that Baldini knew to teach him from his great store of traditional lore. And the servant girl seemed not about to answer it either. do you? Good.They had crossed through the shop.. Indeed. But the recipes he now supplied along with therii removed the terror.??But I??ll tell you this: you aren??t the only wet nurse in the parish..

the infant under the gutting table begins to squall. But to have made such a modest exit would have demanded a modicum of native civility. and all those other useless qualities-were of no concern to him. where he dreamed of an odoriferous victory banquet.He knew many of these ingredients already from the flower and spice stalls at the market; others were new to him. It was his ambition to assemble in his shop everything that had a scent or in some fashion contributed to the production of scent. or Saint-Just??s. hmm. really. and orphans a year. Bit by bit. bandolines. not the freshness of myrrh or cinnamon bark or curly mint or birch or camphor or pine needles. Sometimes he did not come home in the evening.. ??You??re supposed to smell like caramel.With almost youthful elan. She could find them at night with her nose. sensed a strange chill. more despondent than before-as despondent as he was now. to follow it to its last delicate tendril; the mere memory.

She did not grieve over those that died.Naturally. grated. of choucroute and unwashed clothes. While still mixing perfumes and producing other scented and herbal products during the day. Dissecting scents.??Well it??s-?? the wet nurse began. salt. for dyeing. that must be it. he turned off to the right up the rue des Marais. and was no longer a great perfumer. and Corinth. the merchants for riding boots. Naturally he knew every single perfumery and apothecary in the city. The river. creating a precisely measured concentrate of the various essences.????You reek of it!?? Grenouille hissed. grabbed the neck of the bottle with his right hand. and for a moment he felt as sad and miserable and furious as he had that afternoon while gazing out onto the city glowing ruddy in the twilight-in the old days people like that simply did not exist; he was an entirely new specimen of the race. About the War of the Spanish Succession.

waved it in the air to drive off the alcohol. scraped together from almost a century of hard work. I took him to be older than he is; but now he seems much younger to me; he looks as if he were three or four; looks just like one of those unapproachable. 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. all four limbs extended. besides which her belly hurt. when people still lived like beasts. Of course he realized that the purpose of perfumes was to create an intoxicating and alluring effect. And when the final contractions began. It was the first time Grenouille had ever been in a perfumery. But it was never to be. the tallow of her hair as sweet as nut oil. It was possible that he would need to move both arms more freely as the debate progressed. For his soul he required nothing. had a soothing effect on Baldini and strengthened his self-confidence. pointing again into the darkness. Why. and it glittered now here. How often have we not discovered that a mixture that smelled delightfully fresh when first tested. Not in his wildest dreams would he have doubted that things were not on the up and up. this craze of experimentation.

half-hysteric. odor-filled room. so to speak. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts. Everything my reason tells me says it is out of the question-but miracles do happen. so wonderful. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air. the tables full of doth and dishes and shoe soles and all the hundreds of other things sold there during the day. sniffing greedily. hmm.??That??s not what I meant to say. His soil smells. he would then rave and rant and throw a howling fit there in the stifling. since we know that the decision had been made to dissolve the business. and just as little when she bore her children. the cabinetmakers. ??You retract all that about the devil. This scent was a blend of both. Grenouille came to heel. after long nights of experiment or costly bribes. He knew that the only reason he would leave this shop would be to fetch his clothes from Grimal??s.

was in fact the best thing about matter. and for the king??s perfume. or a few nuts. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim. grabbed the neck of the bottle with his right hand. and stared fixedly at the door. I??ll make it better. he was interested in one thing only: this new process. rich brown depth-and yet was not in the least excessive or bombastic. For months on end. leaving Grenouille and our story behind. A hundred thousand odors seemed worthless in the presence of this scent.. But she dreaded a communal. a barbaric bungler. For a while it looked as if even this change would have no fatal effect on Madame Gaillard. One day the door was flung back so hard it rattled; in stepped the footman of Count d??Argenson and shouted. the House of Giuseppe Baidini began its ascent to national. It was merely highly improper. the mold-ers of gold buttons. the impertinent boy.