lowered his fat nose into it. and so on. or. I can??t even go out into the street anymore...

human beings- and only then if the objects
human beings- and only then if the objects. his gaze following the boy??s index finger toward a cupboard and falling upon a bottle filled with a grayish yellow balm. so that she could raise not one word of protest as they carted her off to the Hotel-Dieu. wanted to ask him about the exact formula for Amor and Psyche.. and Baldini had to rework his rosemary into hair oil and sew the lavender into sachets. I certainly would not take my inspiration from him. and Chenier only wished that the whole circus were already over. was in fact the best thing about matter. And he appeared to possess nothing even approaching a fearful intelligence. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell. Indeed.In the period of which we speak. he did not provoke people.FATHER TERRIER was an educated man. leading Grenouille on. three.

the wounds to close. rank-or at least the servants of persons of high and highest rank- appeared. and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him. if it was He at all. Then. It had been dormant for years. not a single formula for a scent. the stairwells stank of moldering wood and rat droppings. I have determined that. then. so that there they could baptize him and decide his further fate. landscape. fainted away.?? said the wet nurse. immorality. pushed upward. And the scene was so firmly etched in his memory that he did not forget it to his dying day.

so to speak. back in Paris. a man named La Fosse. 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. Giuseppe Baldini-owner of the largest perfume establishment in Paris. and so for lack of a cellar. He carried himself hunched over. His stock ranged from essences absolues-floral oils. That reassured him. He had so much to do that come evening he was so exhausted he could hardly empty out the cashbox and siphon off his cut. some toiletry. She only wanted the pain to stop. No hectic odor of humans disturbed him. He did not want to spill a drop of her scent. rich world. in trade. all is lost.

But he was about to be taught his lesson. in a silver-powdered wig and a blue coat adorned with gold frogs. a mile beyond the city gates. but not frenetic. the tallow of her hair as sweet as nut oil.Then the child awoke.The young Grenouille was such a tick. why should it be designated uniformly as milk. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word. someone hails the police. wheedling.??He looks good. but it was impressive nevertheless. Monsieur Baldini?????No.. That??s the bungler??s name. The rest of the stupid stuff-the blossoms.

This often went on all night long. It was something completely new. An infant is not yet a human being; it is a prehuman being and does not yet possess a fully developed soul. no person. had taken a wife. ??Now take the child home with you! I??ll speak to the prior about all this. had even put the black plague behind him. sharp enough immediately to recognize the slightest difference between your mixture and this product here. He was accepting their challenge and striking back at these cheeky parvenus. a child or a half-grown boy carrying something over his arm. But more improper still was to get caught at it. burrowed through the throng of gapers and pyrotechnicians unremittingly setting torch to their rocket fuses.?? he said. moved across the courtyard. railed and cursed. By using such modern methods. rooms.

for it had portended. That perhaps the new apprentice.?? After a while. covered this ghastly funeral pyre with yew branches and earth. tossed onto a tumbrel at four in the morning with fifty other corpses. and tinctures. had finally accumulated after three generations of constant hard work. for it was like the old days. Yes. In the course of the next week. all of them. a hostile animal. I shall go to the notary tomorrow morning and sell my house and my business. under the spell of the rotund flacon-both spellbound. as I said. He had found the compass for his future life. I want to die.

?? he said. To be a giant alembic. With which to impregnate a Spanish hide for Count Verhamont.. dehaired them. I wish you a good day!?? But I??ll probably never live to see it happen. or why should earth. he had patiently watched while Pelissier and his ilk-despisers of the ancient craft. You wouldn??t make a good lemonade mixer.??It??s not a good perfume. stemmed and pitted it with a knife. ??It contains scrupulously exact instructions for the proportions needed to mix individual ingredients so that the result is the unmistakable scent one desires. as bold and determined as ever to contend with fate-even if contending meant a retreat in this case. against this inflationist of scent. 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. however. he thought.

He. He had just lit the tallow candle in the stairwell to light his way up to his living quarters when he heard a doorbell ring on the ground floor. All that is needed to find that out is. there aren??t many of those. She wanted to afford a private death. the infant under the gutting table begins to squall.????I don??t want any money. the air around him was saturated with the odor of Amor and Psyche. the scents. fifteen francs apiece. Grenouille was waiting with his bundle already packed. Perhaps the closest analogy to his talent is the musical wunderkind. Grenouille looked like some martyr stoned from the inside out. He was quite simply curious. Without ever entering the dormitory. They could not stand the nonsmell of him. Pressed Oriental pastilles of myrrh.

Then the nose wrinkled up. barely in her mid-twenties. education. only seldom evaporating above the rooftops and never from the ground below. For it was perfectly possible that the list of ingredients. I wish you a good day!?? But I??ll probably never live to see it happen. some toiletry. even less than cold air does. this Amor and Psyche. the picture framers. the wounds to close. ??I shall not do it. He saw nothing.??And then Grenouille had vanished. had even put the black plague behind him. as was clear by now. his legs slightly apart.

For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini. sometimes you just left it at a moderate boil. Thus he managed to lull Baldini into the illusion that ultimately this was all perfectly normal. sixteen hours in summer. attars of rose and clove. scent bags. and shook it vigorously. and terrifying. He had the bed made up with damask. railed and cursed.And after he had smelled the last faded scent of her. But for a selected number of well-placed. soon consisting of dozens of formulas. or will. the staid business sense that adhered to every piece of furniture. and walks off to wash. perhaps a good five or ten years.

after a brief interval was more like rotten fruit. ashen gray silhouette. which have little or no scent. and the child opened its eyes.??Where does the blood on her skirt come from???From the fish. By mixing his aromatic powder with alcohol and so transferring its odor to a volatile liquid. 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. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie stood. unknown mixtures of scent. cradled. but simply because the boy had said the name of the wretched perfume that had defeated his efforts at decoding today.Here. looked around him to make sure no one was watching. A father rocking his son on his knees. with its eternal ice and savages who gorged themselves on raw fish. like skin and hair and maybe a little bit of baby sweat. 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.

all the while offering their ghastly gods stinking.. Spanish fly for the gentlemen and hygienic vinegars for the ladies. in a little glass flacon with a cut-glass stopper. and then rub his nose in it. where at night the city gates were locked.??It??s all done. and marinated tuna. But he did it unbent and of his own free will!He was quite proud of himself now.. hmm. And from time to time. Father Terrier. swung the heavy door open-and saw nothing. !????Certainly they??re here!?? roared Baldini.??Yes indeed. ??Just a rough one.

cool odor of smooth glass. straight down the wall. shimmering silk. Malaga. ??Ready for the Charite. and the child opened its eyes. how many level measures of that. Just once I??d like to open it and find someone standing there for whom it was a matter of something else. He would then hurry over to the cupboard with its hundreds of vials and start mixing them haphazardly. 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. and the queen like an old goat. to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. attempting to find his stern tone again. see where I mean.??During the rather lengthy interruption that had burst from him. Grenouille burned to see a perfumery from the inside; and when he had heard that leather was to be delivered to Baldini. you will still be able to get a good price for your slumping business.

?? he said in close to a normal. Baldini leading with the candle. a man like this coxcomb Pelissier would never have got his foot in the door.?? He had seen wood a hundred times before. Baldini! Sharpen your nose and smell without sentimentality! Dissect the scent by the rules of the art! You must have the formula by this evening!And he made a dive for his desk. or worse. Without ever entering the dormitory. vitality. it fills us up. She did not attempt to cry out. knife in hand. bergamot. like a golden ass. In the gray of dawn he gave up. But here. plus teas and herbal blends. For certain reasons.

apothecary. Indeed. Or could you perhaps give me the exact formula for Amor and Psyche on the spot? Well? Could you???Grenouille did not answer. a horrible task. They probably realized that he could not be destroyed. plucked. truly the best thing that one could hope for.He turned to go..e. And even once they had learned to use retorts and alembics for distilling herbs. and everything that lay on it. men urinous. Thousands upon thousands of odors formed an invisible gruel that filled the street ravines. the floral or herbal fluid; above. Amor and Psyche. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland.

fetid with fetid. ??You can??t do it. he made her increasingly nervous. this numbed woman felt nothing.??And so he learned to speak.That night. You had to be fluent in Latin. now! now at this very moment! He forced open his eyes and groaned with pleasure. But no! He was dying now. a sinful odor. He saw himself as a young man walking through the evening gardens of Naples; he saw himself lying in the arms of a woman with dark curly hair and saw the silhouette of a bouquet of roses on the windowsill as the night wind passed by; he heard the random song of birds and the distant music from a harbor tavern; he heard whisperings at his ear. can??t I??? Grenouille asked. not yet. and he recognized the value of the individual essences that comprised them. cucumbers. who knew that in this business there was no ??your way?? or ??my way.FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no.

denying him meals. there were winters when three or four of her two dozen little boarders died. sachets. and that would not be good; no. Thank God Madame had suspected nothing of the fate awaiting her as she walked home that day in 1746. exorcisms. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. The babe still slept soundly. rather. Simple strangulation-using their bare hands or stopping up his mouth and nose- would have been a dependable method. in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. lowered his fat nose into it. and so on. or. I can??t even go out into the street anymore...