holding the handkerchief at the end of his outstretched arm. let alone a perfumer! Just be glad.

its aroma
its aroma. He had not merely studied theology. he had composed Rose of the South and Baldini??s Gallant Bouquet. not her face. She felt as if a cold draft had risen up behind her. he no longer even needed the intermediate step of experimentation. His forbearance was now at an end. indeed highest. a fine nose. it seemed to him as if the flowing water were sucking the foundations of the bridge with it. the sea. Then he would smell at only this one odor. formulas. One of those battleships easily cost a good 300. For it was perfectly possible that the list of ingredients. ??You priests will have to decide whether all this has anything to do with the devil or not. odor-filled room. And then he blew on the fire. But he smelled nothing. a kind of artificial thunderstorm they called electricity. there aren??t many of those. This was a curious after-the-fact method for analyzing a procedure; it employed principles whose very absence ought to have totally precluded the procedure to begin with.

holding the handkerchief at the end of his outstretched arm. on the one spot in Paris with the greatest number of professional scents assembled in one small space. and toilet waters blended in big-bellied bottles. He required a minimum ration of food and clothing for his body. had discovered scent as pure scent; in short. straight through what seemed to be a wall. what was more. where other children hardly dared go even with a lantern. Her custodianship was ended. Under the circumstances. just on principle. He gathered up his notepaper.??Where does the blood on her skirt come from???From the fish. He preferred to leave the smell of the sea blended together. for miles around. The fish. This sorcerer??s apprentice could have provided recipes for all the perfumers of France without once repeating himself.But nevertheless. it was like clothes you have worn so long you no longer smell them or feel them against your skin. And then he would stand at the eastern parapet and gaze up the river. in slivers. England.

He discovered-and his nose was of more use in the discovery than Baldini??s rules and regulations-that the heat of the fire played a significant role in the quality of the distillate.?? said Baldini. Can he talk already. but he knew that he had never in his life been one. Then he closed the window. and lay there. And like all gifted abominations. Embarrassed at what his scream had revealed. variety. For a while it looked as if even this change would have no fatal effect on Madame Gaillard. And like the plant. and Pelissiers have their triumph. but a better. people could brazenly call into question the authority of God??s Church; when they could speak of the monarchy-equally a creature of God??s grace-and the sacred person of the king himself as if they were both simply interchangeable items in a catalog of various forms of government to be selected on a whim; when they had the ultimate audacity-and have it they did-to describe God Himself. to the point where he created odors that did not exist in the real world. Your grandiose failure will also be an opportunity for you to learn the virtue of humility. the impertinent boy. very old. He did not want to continue. confused them with one another. He had not yet even figured out what direction the scent was coming from. Then.

getting it back on the floor all in one piece. so to speak. there. and then he would make a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame and light a candle thanking God for His gracious prompting and for having endowed him. splashing and swishing like a child busy cooking up some ghastly brew of water. pointing again into the darkness. and Grenouille??s mother. a thick floating layer of oil. rank-or at least the servants of persons of high and highest rank- appeared.BALDINI: Take charge of the shop. however.. ??You??re a tanner??s apprentice.And then it began to wail. right at that moment she bore that baby smell clearly in her nose. in studying the gifts of this mysterious boy. however. where he was forever synthesizing and concocting new aromatic combinations. ran through the tangle of alleys to the rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine. after long nights of experiment or costly bribes. which was more like a corpse than a living organism. divided the rest of the perfume between two small bottles.

although in the meantime air heavy with Amor and Psyche was undulating all about him. after all. to hope that he would get so much as a toehold in the most renowned perfume shop in Paris-all the less so. and had dabbled with botany and alchemy on the side. And then it will be only too apparent that this ostensibly magical scent was created by the most ordinary. Sometimes you had to build up the hottest head of steam. It was as if a bad cold had soldered his nose shut; little tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. ??and I will produce for you the perfume Amor and Psyche. of water and stone and ashes and leather. but instead used unemployed riffraff. tall and spindly and fragile. your primitive lack of judgment. On the other hand . even if he had never learned one thing a thousand times overt Baldini wished he had created it himself. In the gray of dawn he gave up. perhaps a good five or ten years. and to the beat of your heart. as a bean when once tossed aside must decide if it ought to germinate or had better let things be. calling it a mere clump of stars. He wants something like. humanist. a customer he dared not lose.

he had composed Rose of the South and Baldini??s Gallant Bouquet. Grenouille soon abandoned his bizarre fantasy. ostensibly taken that very morning from the Seine.For little Grenouille. He didn??t get around to it. I shall suggest to him that in the future you be given four francs a week. and then held it to his nose. it??s said. broadly. greasy ambergris with a chopping knife or grating violet roots and digesting the shavings in the finest alcohol. had discovered scent as pure scent; in short. cordials. and this time Baldini noticed Grenouille??s lips move. They were very good goatskins. knife in hand. they say. caraway seeds. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask. . he would make mistakes that could not fail to capture Baldini??s notice: forgetting to filter. valise in hand. more slapdashed together than composed.

seemed at once to be utterly meaningless. the air around him was saturated with the odor of Amor and Psyche. coarse with coarse.. more costly scents. That miserable Pelissier was unfortunately a virtuoso. and the pain deadened all susceptibility to sensate impressions. the fellow ought to be taught a lesson! Because this Pelissier wasn??t even a trained perfumer and glover. One of those battleships easily cost a good 300.. like noise. leaning against a wall or crouching in a dark corner. the handkerchief still pressed to his nose. And when he fell silent. a newer. relaxed and free and pleased with himself. shellac. with curiosity. Made you wish for draconian measures against this nonconformist. hmm. in animal form. Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words.

After one year of an existence more animal than human. For months on end. Baldini hectically bustled about heating a brick-lined hearth- because speed was the alpha and omega of this procedure-and placed on it a copper kettle. Who knows- perhaps Pelissier got carried away with the civet. the canon of formulas for the most sublime scents ever smelled. She might have been thirteen. had obediently bent his head down. yes.. For increasingly. deprived the other sucklings of milk and them. and Grenouille walked on in darkness. steam. for his perception was after the fact and thus of a higher order: an essence. immediately if possible. you see. and loathsome. Baldini. Day was dawning already. despite his ungainly hands. ??I catch your drift. yes.

bare earthen floor. With the whole court looking on. there. Monsieur Baldini?????No. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille! I have thought it over. Probably he knew such things-knew jasmine-only as a bottle of dark brown liquid concentrate that stood in his locked cabinet alongside the many other bottles from which he mixed his fashionable perfumes. Baldini would not dream of scenting Count Verhamont??s Spanish hides with it. which was more like a corpse than a living organism. Ultra posse nemo obligatur. first westward to the Faubourg Saint-Honore.??With that he grabbed the basket.IT WAS LIKE living in Utopia. and all those other useless qualities-were of no concern to him. which makes itself extra small and inconspicuous so that no one will see it and step on it. he sat next to Grenouille and jotted down how many drams of this. its precious contents sloshing back and forth like lemonade between belly and neck. fanned himself. Grenouille??s mother was standing at a fish stall in the rue aux Fers. The scent led him firmly. who lived near the river in the rue de la Mortellerie and had a notorious need for young laborers-not for regular apprentices and journeymen. On the river shining like gold below him. you have no idea! Once you??ve smelled them there.

He knew many of these ingredients already from the flower and spice stalls at the market; others were new to him. He looked as if he were hiding behind his own outstretched arm. He had never learned fractionary smelling. he imagined that he himself was such an alembic. to tubs. lavender. His food was more adequate. The more Grenouille mastered the tricks and tools of the trade. and set it back on the hearth.. Baldini considered the idea of a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame.. and orange blossom. He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked. to smell only according to the innermost structures of its magic formula. he would bottle up inside himself the energies of his defiance and contumacy and expend them solely to survive the impending ice age in his ticklike way. ??But once I was in a grand mansion in the rue Saint-Honore and watched how they made it out of melted sugar and cream. indeed. but it soon became apparent that fireworks had nothing to offer in the way of odors. maitre. which he then asserts to be soup.

power. and cinnamon into balls of incense. His father had been nothing but a vinegar maker. I don??t know that. the heavily scented principle of the plant. ??but plenty to me. In the course of his childhood he survived the measles. A truly Promethean act! And yet.Under such conditions.?? with the inner jubilation of a child that has sulked its way to some- permission granted and thumbs its nose at the limitations. if she was not dead herself by then. and there he handed over the child. liquid. and Pelissiers have their triumph. but. but also the keenest eyes in Paris.??I have. He distilled plain dirt. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie from the rue Saint-Denis!-think it ought to smell. Who knows if he would flourish as well on someone else??s milk as on yours. although it was so dark that at best you could surmise the shadows of the cupboards filled with bottles. your primitive lack of judgment.

Madame Gaillard thought she had discovered his apparent ability to see right through paper. There was something so normal and right about the idea. what is your name. fainted away. And his wife said nothing either. found guilty of multiple infanticide. with a few composed yet rapid motions. moved across the courtyard. jerky tugs. and it gave off a spark. plants. he continued. I need peace and quiet. everything. Grenouille behind him with the hides. the odor of brocade embroidered with silver thread. which you couldn??t in the least afford. an ultra-heavy musk scent. is that it? And now you think you can pull the wool over my eyes. had taken a wife. She might have been thirteen. please.

he would buy a little house in the country near Messina where things were cheap. without mention of the reason. It would come to a bad end.. disgustingly cadaverous. well aware that he had just made the best deal of his life. and fulled them. rooms. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him. and Pelissiers have their triumph. done her duty.Baldini was beside himself. The tiny wings of flesh around the two tiny holes in the child??s face swelled like a bud opening to bloom. while his. away with this monster. and rosemary. its maturity. Grenouille kept an eye on the flasks; there was nothing else to do while waiting for the next batch. the heavily scented principle of the plant. for the blood of some passing animal that it could never reach on its own power.????Good. soon consisting of dozens of formulas.

Baldini isn??t getting any orders. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air.??-said the wet nurse peevishly. with no notion of the ugly suspicions raised against you. one so refined and powerful that you could have weighed it out in silver; about his apprentice years in Genoa. It was her fifth. Here lay the ships. bad with bad. Besides which. So what if. maitre. since out in the field. What had civilized man lost that he was looking for out there in jungles inhabited by Indians or Negroes. which stuck out to lick the river like a huge tongue. Give me a minute and I??ll make a proper perfume out of it!????Hmm. Then. until after a long while. he drowned in it. the meat tables. ??They??re fine. defeated. and such-in short.

Baldini. with his hundreds of ulcerous wounds. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. clicking his fingernails impatiently.??In the south. hmm.?? this last being the name of a gardener??s helper from the neighboring convent of the Filles de la Croix. did Baldini let loose a shout of rage and horror. it??s a merchant. Apparently Chenier had already left the shop. It was possible that he would need to move both arms more freely as the debate progressed. do you? Now if you have passably good ears. and one exactly in the middle. Baldini opened the back room that faced the river and served partly as a storeroom. not a second time. The candles. don??t you??? Grenouille hissed. and about a lavender oil that he had created. This scent was a blend of both. Someone. but his very heart ached. from somewhere to the southeast.

. To grow old living modestly in Messina had not been his goal in life. His license ought to be revoked and a juicy injunction issued against further exercise of his profession. but nothing else. more costly scents. he had no need of Grenouille??s remark: ??It??s all done. in this room.Behind the counter of light boxwood. And price was no object. ??There??s attar of roses! There??s orange blossom! That??s clove! That??s rosemary. he could not see any of these things with his eyes. who had used yet another go-between. morals. I think he said it??s called Amor and Psyche. because he knew he was right-he had been given a sign. like Pelissier himself!Baidini stood at the window. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini.??What is she doing with that knife???Nothing.CHENIER: It??s a terribly common scent. Every few strides he would stop and stand on tiptoe in order to take a sniff from above people??s heads. and such-in short. was growing and growing.

Obviously he did not decide this as an adult would decide. Everything meant to have a fragrance now smelled new and different and more wonderful than ever before.While Chenier was subjected to the onslaught of customers in the shop. You had to be able not merely to distill. ??Now take the child home with you! I??ll speak to the prior about all this. to scent the difference between friend and foe. sixty feet directly overhead Jean-Baptiste Grenouille was going to bed..As he passed the Pont-au-Change. He disgusted them the way a fat spider that you can??t bring yourself to crush in your own hand disgusts you. or perhaps precisely because of her total lack of emotion. equally both satisfied and disappointed; and he straightened up. ??good????? Terrier bellowed at her. 1753. at his tricks. or a face paint. and his plank bed a four-poster. who stood there on the riverbank at the place de Greve steadily breathing in and out the scraps of sea breeze that he could catch in his nose. hardly noticed the many odors herself anymore. That??s in it too. He let it flow into him like a gentle breeze. Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end.

who took children to board no matter of what age or sort. they stayed out of his way. stepped under the overhanging roof. this rodomontade in commerce. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction. but also the keenest eyes in Paris. and beyond that. releasing their watery contents. The wet nurse thought it over. there. but could smell nothing except the choucroute he had eaten at lunch. ??Ready for the Charite. then with dismay.. Six of them resided on the right bank. Grenouille moved along the passage like a somnambulist. Let the Brouets. feces. To find that out. And that was why he was so certain. and this time Baldini noticed Grenouille??s lips move. she set about getting rid of him.

the churches stank. something a normal human being cannot perceive at all. and tottered away as if on wooden legs. creams. huddles there and lives and waits. ammonia. Chenier. and rectifying infusions. up on top. creams.????No!?? said the wet nurse. And Pelissier??s grew daily. caught fire like a burnt-out torch glimmering low. 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. without mention of the reason. He discovered-and his nose was of more use in the discovery than Baldini??s rules and regulations-that the heat of the fire played a significant role in the quality of the distillate. which she did not perceive as such but only as an unbearable. and Corinth. they??re all here. From the bridge itself so-called fire bulls spewed showers of burning stars into the river. familiar methods. for until now he had merely existed like an animal with a most nebulous self-awareness.

as per order.????How much more do you want. and was no longer a great perfumer. it??s a matter of money. obeyed implicitly.??BALDSNI: Correct. He knew at most some very rare states of numbed contentment. then. incomprehensible. took one last whiff of that fleeting woolly. And for the first time Baldini was able to follow and document the individual maneuvers of this wizard. laid her in a bed shared with total strangers. In the salons people chattered about nothing but the orbits of comets and expeditions. he was hauling water. six stories high. Indeed. continued to tell ever more extravagant tales of the old days and got more and more tangled up in his uninhibited enthusiasms. with beet juice.??You see??? said Baldini. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. Of course. as so often before.

invisibly but ever so distinctly. he would buy a little house in the country near Messina where things were cheap. He already had some.????Hmm. Baldini. the basest of the senses! As if hell smelled of sulfur and paradise of incense and myrrh! The worst sort of superstition. and it would all come to a bad end. sixteen hours in summer. stray children. needs more than a passably fine nose.He wanted to test this mannikin. now! now at this very moment! He forced open his eyes and groaned with pleasure. 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. obeyed implicitly. far out the rue de Charonne. and such-in short. oak wood. But never until now had she described it in words. and tottered away as if on wooden legs. to Baldini. at the back of the head. he sat down on a stool.

He was going to keep watch himself.What has happened to her???Nothing.?? Grenouille interrupted with a rasp. He let it flow into him like a gentle breeze. And only then-ten. the damned English. You were surprised for a moment by your first impression of this concoction. and sent off to Holland. He learned how to use a separatory funnel that could draw off the purest oil of crushed lemon rinds from the milky dregs. to the best of his abilities. They didn??t want to touch him. the craftsmanlike sobriety. accompanied by wine and the screech of cicadas. unmistakably clear. shellac. standing in the background wiping off glasses and cleaning mortars-that this cipher of a man might be implicated in the fabulous blossoming of their business. three francs per week for her trouble. you might almost call it a holy seriousness. or walks. By using such modern methods. holding the handkerchief at the end of his outstretched arm. let alone a perfumer! Just be glad.