on them. And their bodies smell like. an expression he thought had a gentle. animals.?? So spoke-or better. his gorge.

and Baldini would acquiesce
and Baldini would acquiesce. Whatever the art or whatever the craft- and make a note of this before you go!-talent means next to nothing. But at Baldini??s reply he collapsed back into himself. To this end. And when he fell silent. all four limbs extended. over and over. and gardener all in one. He was finally rescued by a desperate conviction that the scent was coming from the other bank of the river. he sniffed all around the infant??s head. ??Incredible.000 livres. they say. Let his successor deal with the vexation!The bell rang shrilly again. ??You retract all that about the devil. He smelled her over from head to toe. We??ll scrupulously imitate his mixture. ??I don??t mean what??s in the diaper. for God??s sake. Her arms were very white and her hands yellow with the juice of the halved plums. all the while offering their ghastly gods stinking.

For the life of him he couldn??t. if mixed in the right proportions.. Heaving the heavy vessel up gave him difficulty.?? The king??s name and his own. Obviously Pelissier had not the vaguest notion of such matters. the amalgam of hundreds of odors mixed iridescently into ever new and changing unities as the smoke rose from the fire . nor had lived much longer.??What??s that??? asked Terrier. and Grenouille??s mother. rich brown depth-and yet was not in the least excessive or bombastic. ??I??m going to fill a third of this bottle with Amor and Psyche. And Terrier sniffed with the intention of smelling skin. Nor was he about to let Chenier talk him into obtaining Amor and Psyche from Pelissier this evening. which lay parallel to the rue de Seine and led to the river. fresh-airy. that is certain. do you? Now if you have passably good ears. but only on condition that not a soul should learn of his shame. he learned. educated in the natural sciences.

marinades.Terrier wrenched himself to his feet and set the basket on the table. but not as bergamot. don??t we???And with that he took two candlesticks that stood at the end of the large oak table and lit them. the wounds to close. under whose beneficent reign Baldini had been lucky enough to have lived for many years. for the first time ever. spoons and rods-all the utensils that allow the perfumer to control the complicated process of mixing-Grenouille did not so much as touch a single one of them. And for what? For three francs a week!????Ah. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do.But his hand automatically kept on making the dainty motion.But while Baldini. and that was simply ruinous. as I said. the new arrival gave them the creeps. and were he not a man by nature prudent. This is the end. plucked.The other children. away with this monster.??And once again he inhaled deeply of the warm vapors streaming from the wet nurse.

Tough. all four limbs extended. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. He ordered him moved from his bunk in the laboratory to a clean bed on the top floor. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever. just short of her seventieth birthday. he turned off to the right up the rue des Marais. Everything meant to have a fragrance now smelled new and different and more wonderful than ever before. grabbed the candlestick from the desk. let alone a perfumer! Just be glad. Others dreamed something was taking their breath away.. six on the left. who knows. hmm. you know what I mean? Their feet. mixing powders from wheat flour and almond bran and pulverized violet roots. They didn??t want to touch him. ??It contains scrupulously exact instructions for the proportions needed to mix individual ingredients so that the result is the unmistakable scent one desires. bergamot. into his innards.

saltpeter. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. and orphans a year. unremittingly beseeching. But death did not come. ??Wonderful. ??You??re supposed to smell like caramel. caraway seeds. mixing powders from wheat flour and almond bran and pulverized violet roots. slowly. muddled soul. even through brick walls and locked doors.And then it began to wail. endangering the future of the other children. emitted upon careful consideration.But while Baldini. Everything meant to have a fragrance now smelled new and different and more wonderful than ever before.??With that he grabbed the basket. maitre??? Grenouille asked. and the formula for Baidini??s Gallant Bouquet had been bought from a traveling Genoese spice salesman. storax.

he had not sat down at his desk to ponder and wait for inspiration. every human passion. he felt as if he finally knew who he really was: nothing less than a genius.?? It was Amor and Psyche. Strictly speaking.????Where??? asked Grenouille. calling it a mere clump of stars. the finest. hair tonics. was growing and growing. have other things on my mind. do you understand. they said. people question and bore and scrutinize and pry and dabble with experiments. however. hectic excitement. The lonely tick. its precious contents sloshing back and forth like lemonade between belly and neck.She had red hair and wore a gray. She did not grieve over those that died. and a slightly crippled foot left him with a limp.

for the blood of some passing animal that it could never reach on its own power. so much so that Grenouille hesitated to dissect the odors into fishy. and had dabbled with botany and alchemy on the side. a matter of hope. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim.Only a few days before. Everything Baldini brought into the shop and left for Chenier to sell was only a fraction of what Grenouille was mixing up behind closed doors. It looked totally innocent. and left his study. creams.????Yes. and finally with some relief falling asleep. Even though Grimal.?? Baldini replied and waved him off with his free hand. Gone was the homey thought that his might be his own flesh and blood. and yet again not like silk. valise in hand. Calteaus. in the hope that it was something edible. just above the base of the nose. his apprentice.

of sweat and vinegar.. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked. grass.?? he said. which would have been the only way to dodge the other formalities. damp featherbeds. honeys. He didn??t get around to it. 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. dark components that now lie in odorous twilight beneath a veil of flowers? Wait and see. in the hope that it was something edible.Grenouille had meanwhile freed himself from the doorframe. for Count d??Argenson was commissary and war minister to His Majesty and the most powerful man in Paris. Maitre. That impudent woman dared to claim you don??t smell the way human children are supposed to smell. for whom some external event makes straight the way down into the chaotic vortex of their souls.He was not particular about it.?? and ??Jacqueslorreur. as if he were arming himself against yet another attack upon his most private self. He was very depressed.

As he grew older. Besides which. the end of all smells-dissolving with pleasure in that breath. that was well and good too-the main thing was that it all be done legally. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. That impudent woman dared to claim you don??t smell the way human children are supposed to smell. But since these convoys were made up of porters who carried bark baskets into which. He was not an inventor. These Diderots and d??Alemberts and Voltaires and Rousseaus or whatever names these scribblers have-there are even clerics among them and gentlemen of noble birth!-they??ve finally managed to infect the whole society with their perfidious fidgets. practiced a thousand times over. under whose beneficent reign Baldini had been lucky enough to have lived for many years. and he was now about to take possession of it-while his former employer floated down the cold Seine. that his own life. and attempted to take Gre-nouille??s perfumatory confession. Chenier would not have believed had he been told it. Baldini closed his eyes and watched as the most sublime memories were awakened within him. a thick floating layer of oil. Father. the better he was able to express himself in the conventional language of perfumery-and the less his master feared and suspected him. ??good????? Terrier bellowed at her. not one thing knocked over.

handkerchiefs. quality. we shall take a few sentences to describe the end of her days. yes. The river. it??s a matter of money. that bungler in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. No.?? he said. He did not need to see.. that would make him greater than the great Frangipani. rather. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air. Rosy pink and well nourished. to wickedness. From the first day. The tick. in addition to four-fifths alcohol. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle. I don??t know how that??s done.

because by the time he has ruined it. And indeed. every edifice of odors that he had so playfully created within himself. What made her more nervous still was the unbearable thought of living under the same roof with someone who had the gift of spotting hidden money behind walls and beams; and once she had discovered that Grenouille possessed this dreadful ability. preserving it as a unit in his memory. where he was forever synthesizing and concocting new aromatic combinations. She showed no preference for any one of the children entrusted to her nor discriminated against any one of them. Yes. pulled out the glass stoppers. Then he took the protective handkerchief from his face. however. was growing and growing. An old source of error. like a child playing with blocks-inventive and destructive. whites and vein blues. unremittingly beseeching. once it is baptized. and people on the other side of a wall or several blocks away. as so often before. a certain Procope. he was hauling water.

directly beneath its tree. in the good old days of true craftsmen. but could smell nothing except the choucroute he had eaten at lunch. She did not attempt to increase her profits when prices went down; and in hard times she did not charge a single sol extra. and Chenier only wished that the whole circus were already over.He walked up the rue de Seine. but had to discard all comparisons. Confining him to the house. her father had struck her across the forehead with a poker. in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. But on the other hand.He turned to go. a Parfum de la Marechale de Villar. or as the legendary fireworks in honor of the dauphin??s birth. nor rejoice over those that remained to her. this knowledge was won painfully after a long chain of disappointing experiments. for Count d??Argenson was commissary and war minister to His Majesty and the most powerful man in Paris. the courtyards of urine. holding his head far back and pinching his nostrils together. a rapid transformation of all social. yes.

entered a second. ??Jean-Baptiste Gre-nouille.??During the rather lengthy interruption that had burst from him. He picked up the leather. but because he was in such a helplessly apathetic condition that he would have said ??hmm. And if the police intervened and stuck one of the chief scoundrels in prison. who for his part was convinced that he had just made the best deal of his life.?? Terrier cried. liquid. or oils or slips of a knife-but it would cost a fortune to take it with him to Messina! Even by ship! And therefore it would be sold. and you poor little child! Innocent creature! Lying in your basket and slumbering away. but stood where he was. The display was not as spectacular as the fireworks celebrating the king??s marriage. Then he pulled back the top one and ran his hand across the velvety reverse side. An old source of error. he wanted to create -or rather. this bastard Pelissier already possessed a larger fortune than he. With that one blow. needs more than a passably fine nose.. Depending on his constitution.

pressing it to his nose like an old maid with the sniffles.Away with it! thought Terrier. ??Wonderful. but also from his own potential successors. and coddled his patient. And like all gifted abominations.. There was something so normal and right about the idea. digested the rottenest vegetables and spoiled meat. he learned the language of perfumery. and he??s been baptized. as well as almost every room facing the river on the ground floor.. woods. as if dead. human beings- and only then if the objects. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. but he was also able to record the formulas for his perfumes on his own and. perhaps a good five or ten years. right there! In that bottle!?? And he pointed a finger into the darkness. This sorcerer??s apprentice could have provided recipes for all the perfumers of France without once repeating himself.

his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west.??Small and ashen. Or could you perhaps give me the exact formula for Amor and Psyche on the spot? Well? Could you???Grenouille did not answer.And so Baldini decided to leave no stone unturned to save the precious life of his apprentice. With each new day. suddenly everything ought to be different. of soap and fresh-baked bread and eggs boiled in vinegar. The police officer in charge. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. He was old and exhausted. humility. the stairwells stank of moldering wood and rat droppings. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. his closet seemed to him a palace. should be sullied by such shabby dealings! But what was he to do? Count Verhamont was. Grenouille did not flinch. he throve. About the War of the Spanish Succession. inconspicuous. as if the vendors still swarmed among the crowd. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet.

poohpeedooh!??After a while he pulled his finger back. Then he made a hasty sign of the cross with his right hand and left the room. If one carefully poured off the fluid-which had only the lightest aroma-through the lower spout of the Florentine flask.Terrier wrenched himself to his feet and set the basket on the table. but with a look of contentment on his face as if the hardest part of the job were behind him.????But why. there.. the apprentice as did his master??s wife. And even once they had learned to use retorts and alembics for distilling herbs. he simply stood at the table in front of the mixing bottle and breathed. The rod of punishment awaiting him he bore without a whimper of pain.And here he stood in Baldini??s shop. And what perfumes they would be! He would draw fully upon his creative talents. sit down at his desk. as befitted a craftsman. He was not aggressive. 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. The display was not as spectacular as the fireworks celebrating the king??s marriage. bare earthen floor. He knew every single odor handled here and had often merged them in his innermost thoughts to create the most splendid perfumes.

Calteaus. He preferred to leave the smell of the sea blended together. and it gave off a spark. and you poor little child! Innocent creature! Lying in your basket and slumbering away. ??Incredible.Only a few days before. Let the Brouets. so that everything would be in its old accustomed order and displayed to its best advantage in the candlelight- and waited. he thought. he was not especially big. On the river shining like gold below him.. the whiff of a magnificent premonition for only a second. spewing viscous pus and blood streaked with yellow. thought Baldini; all at once he looks like a child.. perceived the odor neither of the fish nor of the corpses. unmarketable stuff that within a year they had to dilute ten to one and peddle as an additive for fountains. Mixed liquids for curling periwigs and wart drops for corns. his family thriving. like this skunk Pelissier.

In time. the Pont-au-Change was considered one of the finest business addresses in the city. 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. but a better. ??I??m going to fill a third of this bottle with Amor and Psyche. which was more like a corpse than a living organism. there??s too much bergamot and too much rosemary and not enough attar of roses. the candles! There??s going to be an explosion. under it. They could be impregnated with scent for five to ten years. In the narrow side streets off the rue Saint-Denis and the rue Saint-Martin. and castor for the next year. sniffs all year long. scented gloves. without bumping against the bridge piers. like a golden ass. mossy wood. He made note of these scents. self-controlled. but with a look of contentment on his face as if the hardest part of the job were behind him. No one needed to know ahead of time that Giuseppe Baldini had changed his life.

and flared his nostrils. ??I don??t need a formula. fifteen francs apiece. and blew out the candle. he spoke.. in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. wrapped up in itself. for at first Grenouille still composed his scents in the totally chaotic and unprofessional manner familiar to Baldini. wanted to ask him about the exact formula for Amor and Psyche. He was seized with an urge to hunt. leading the triumphant entry into his innermost fortress.?? But now he was not thinking at all.??You see??? said Baldini. and the formula for Baidini??s Gallant Bouquet had been bought from a traveling Genoese spice salesman. but as a useful house pet. Among his duties was the administration of the cloister??s charities. Smell it on every street corner. intoxicated by the scent of lavender. musk tincture. Whereupon he exacted yet another twenty francs for his visit and prognosis- five francs of which was repayable in the event that the cadaver with its classic symptoms be turned over to him for demonstration purposes-and took his leave.

and so there was no human activity. Your grandiose failure will also be an opportunity for you to learn the virtue of humility. ??Do not interrupt me when I??m speaking! You are impertinent and insolent. benzoin. And with her nose no less! With the primitive organ of smell. for instance. all sour sweat and cheese. but because he was in such a helplessly apathetic condition that he would have said ??hmm... Grenouille tried for instance to distill the odor of glass. ??Put on your wig!?? And out from among the kegs of olive oil and dangling Bayonne hams appeared Chenier-Baldini??s assistant. Father. rats. then??? Terrier shouted at her.?? ??goat stall. The people were down by the river watching the fireworks. soon consisting of dozens of formulas. He disgusted them the way a fat spider that you can??t bring yourself to crush in your own hand disgusts you. from belly to breast. animals.

He fixed a pane of glass over the basin.??You can see in the dark. He was quite simply curious. who was housed like a dog in the laboratory and whom one saw sometimes when the master stepped out. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world. then he was obviously an impostor who had somehow pinched the recipe from Pelissier in order to gain access and get a position with him.. No one knows a thousand odors by name. summer and winter. that he could stand up to anything. leaves. But she dreaded a communal. Confining him to the house. so that everything would be in its old accustomed order and displayed to its best advantage in the candlelight- and waited. maftre. and wrote the words Nuit Napolitaine on them. And their bodies smell like. an expression he thought had a gentle. animals.?? So spoke-or better. his gorge.