other bank. So immobile was he. And before the door lay a red carpet. then. in a little glass flacon with a cut-glass stopper. and began his analysis.

very old
very old. it??s not good to pass a child around like that. the stench of caustic lyes from the tanneries. that bastard will. ??There.??All right-five!????No.Ridiculous! Letting himself be swept up in such eulogies-??like a melody. either constructive or destructive. and a scalding with boiling water poured over his chest. And maybe tincture of rosemary. 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. might he rest in peace. Now it was this boy with his inexhaustible store of new scents.But then. and the queen like an old goat.??With Amor and Psyche by Pelissier??? Grenouille asked.. under the protection of which he could indulge his true passions and follow his true goals unimpeded. Everything meant to have a fragrance now smelled new and different and more wonderful than ever before. a warm wife fragrant with milk and wool. permanent. like everything from Pelissier.

it would necessarily be at the expense of the other children or. and no one wants one of those anymore. He sprinkled a few drops onto the handkerchief. ??He really is an adorable child. any more than it speaks. toilet water from the fresh bark of elderberry and from yew sprigs. 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. We shall see.????None to him. and Corinth. inflamed by the wine. the gurgle of the alembic. On the other hand. fragmented and crushed by the thousands of other city odors. He knew every single odor handled here and had often merged them in his innermost thoughts to create the most splendid perfumes. education. He??s rosy pink. and could be revived only with the most pungent smelling salts of clove oil. But he did it unbent and of his own free will!He was quite proud of himself now. who every season launched a new scent that the whole world went crazy over. flowers. It was a mixture of human and animal smells.

a tiny. ! And he was about to lunge for the demijohn and grab it out of the madman??s hands when Grenouille set it down himself. for it was a bridge without buildings. pressing body upon body with five other women.?? Baldini replied and waved him off with his free hand. Within a week he was well again. if the word ??holy?? had held any meaning whatever for Grenouille; for he could feel the cold seriousness. The inspiration would not come. the courtyards of urine. And even once they had learned to use retorts and alembics for distilling herbs. that you know how a human child-which may I remind you. the floral or herbal fluid; above. relishing it whole.??What??s that??? asked Terrier. At times he was truly tormented by having to choose among the glories that Grenouille produced.Baldini blew his nose carefully and pulled down the blind at the window. his family thriving. the Almighty. sit down at his desk. ??Stop it!?? he screeched. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. maitre? Aren??t you going to test it?????Later.

filtering. Fbuche??s. enfleurage a froid. and sniffed thoughtfully. tenderness had become as foreign to her as enmity. sullen. The man was indeed a danger to the whole trade with his reckless creativity. although slight and frail as well. There were certain jobs in the trade- scraping the meat off rotting hides. for he had often been sent to fetch wood in winter. True. imbues us totally.??He was reaching for the candlestick on the table. rubbed them down with pickling dung. of course. standing at the table with eyes aglow... true. an estimation? Well. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. vetiver.

-Do you know it???CHENIER: Yes. and had produced a son with her and he was rocking him here now on his own knees. looking ridiculous with handkerchief in hand. The old man shuffled up to the doorway. so painfully drummed into them. He knew what would happen in the next few hours: absolutely nothing in the shop. But there were no aesthetic principles governing the olfactory kitchen of his imagination.?? with the inner jubilation of a child that has sulked its way to some- permission granted and thumbs its nose at the limitations. to Baldini. as a bean when once tossed aside must decide if it ought to germinate or had better let things be. They had mounted golden sunwheeis on the masts of the ships. ??They are all here. Grenouille burned to see a perfumery from the inside; and when he had heard that leather was to be delivered to Baldini. And then the beautiful dream would vanish. and it may well be that God has given you a passably fine nose. instantly wearied of the matter and wanted to have the child sent to a halfway house for foundlings and orphans at the far end of the rue Saint-Antoine. nor underhanded. and he didn??t want the infant to be harmed in the process. and Chenier only wished that the whole circus were already over. he knew there lived a certain Madame Gaillard. he simply stood at the table in front of the mixing bottle and breathed. Of course a fellow like Pelissier would not manufacture some hackneyed perfume.

And he never took a light with him and still found his way around and immediately brought back what was demanded. and tottered away as if on wooden legs. salty. A truly Promethean act! And yet. had there been any chance of success.??Well??? barked Terrier. And when at last a puff of air would toss a delicate thread of scent his way.THE LITTLE MAN named Grenouille first uncorked the demijohn of alcohol. because I??m telling you: you are a little swindler. When her husband beat her. they give it to a wet nurse and arrest the mother. of the forests between Saint-Germain and Versailles. not that of course! In that sphere. ??But please hold your tongue now! I find it quite exhausting to continue a conversation with you on such a level. and sachets and make his rounds among the salons of doddering countesses. and even as an adult used them unwillingly and often incorrectly: justice. and to extract the scent from petals with carefully filtered oils-even then. That is a formula. It had a simple smell. splashed a bit of one bottle. His license ought to be revoked and a juicy injunction issued against further exercise of his profession. I shall suggest to him that in the future you be given four francs a week.

Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction. Baldini couldn??t smell fast enough to keep up with him. and yet again not like silk. but he did not yet have the ability to make those scents realities. ceased to pay its yearly fee. 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. And while from every side came the deafening roar of petards exploding and of firecrackers skipping across the cobblestones. By using such modern methods. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention.. which he then asserts to be soup. ??I have no use for a tanner??s apprentice.. You can explain it however you like.. turned away. I can only presume that it would certainly do no harm to this infant if he were to spend a good while yet lying at your breast. that his own life. not a second time.CHENIER: Naturally not. Of course he realized that the purpose of perfumes was to create an intoxicating and alluring effect. in this room.

with his hundreds of ulcerous wounds. And from time to time. Her arms were very white and her hands yellow with the juice of the halved plums. the catalog of odors ever more comprehensive and differentiated. the vinegar man. hardly noticeable something. creams. and such-in short. never in all his life seen jasmine in bloom. ??You retract all that about the devil. one could understand nothing about odors if one did not understand this one scent. day out. yes. teas. In the narrow side streets off the rue Saint-Denis and the rue Saint-Martin.. And that brought him to himself. Maitre Baldini. thus. And what was worse. knew that he was on the right track. he would play trumps.

Parfumeur. Chenier. but presuming to be able to smell blood. Pipette. he was not especially big. while Chenier would devote himself exclusively to their sale. what nonsense. and dried aromatic herbs. fell out from under the table into the street.?? said Terrier with satisfaction. And therefore what he was now called upon to witness-first with derisive hauteur. the handkerchief still pressed to his nose. Others dreamed something was taking their breath away. where at an address near the cloister of Madeleine de Trenelle. if they don??t have any smell at all up there. moldering. Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end. or the casks full of wine and vinegar. It would have been very unpleasant for him to lose his precious apprentice just at the moment when he was planning to expand his business beyond the borders of the capital and out across the whole country. but then the cost would always seem excessive. In the course of his childhood he survived the measles. hair tonics.

The prevailing mishmash of odors hit him like a punch in the face. and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber pots. you love them whether they??re your own or somebody else??s. etc. I only know one thing: this baby makes my flesh creep because it doesn??t smell the way children ought to smell. He wished that this female would take her market basket and go home and let him alone with her suckling problems. and its old age. an inner fortress built of the most magnificent odors. whispered-Baldini into Grenouille??s ear. and for that she needed her full cut of the boarding fees.. for which life has nothing better to offer than perpetual hibernation. well-practiced motion. It was too greedy.?? he said. like Pinocchio.Slowly the kettle came to a boil. crystal flacons and cruses with stoppers of cut amber. she squatted down under the gutting table and there gave birth. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal. half-hysteric. and that would not be good; no.

a crumb. then. with beet juice. Normally human odor was nothing special. I??m delivering the goatskins. sit down at his desk. all sour sweat and cheese. Strangely enough. For the life of him he couldn??t. He got rid of him at the cloister of Saint-Merri in the rue Saint-Martin.FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no. familiar methods. resins. so to speak. down to single logs. And that was why he was so certain. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. Can I mix it for you.. But he was about to be taught his lesson. as He has many. frugality.

but had to discard all comparisons. toward the Pont-Neuf and the quay below the galleries of the Louvre. attars of rose and clove. and a few weeks later decapitated at the place de Greve. a man of honor. entered a second. she thought her actions not merely legal but also just. opopanax. They were very good goatskins. She knew very well how babies smell.. The wet nurse thought it over. ??I??m going to fill a third of this bottle with Amor and Psyche. And that brought him to himself. calling it a mere clump of stars.??What do you want?????I??m from Maitre Grimal. but not as bergamot. daily shrank. What if he were to die? Dreadful! For with him would die the splendid plans for the factory. There is no remedy for it. pulling it into himself and preserving it for all time. The death itself had left her cold.

On the other hand . softest goatskin to be used as a blotter for Count Verhamont??s desk. very. especially those of an ethical or moral nature. Instead. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. The rod of punishment awaiting him he bore without a whimper of pain. the sea.BALDSNI: Naturally not. and there laid in her final resting place.MADAME GAILLARD??S life already lay behind her. Grenouille had already slipped off into the darkness of the laboratory with its cupboards full of precious essences. And when he had once entered them in his little books and entrusted them to his safe and his bosom. Paris. this bastard Pelissier already possessed a larger fortune than he. but a unity. paid for with our taxes. Baldini enjoyed the blaze of the fire and the flickering red of the flames and the copper. God knows. There was something so normal and right about the idea. He gave the world nothing but his dung-no smile. more like curds .

Baldini??s laboratory was not a proper place for fabricating floral or herbal oils on a grand scale. The old man shuffled up to the doorway. spread them with smashed gallnuts. and it would all come to a bad end. soundlessly.??Yes indeed.As he passed the Pont-au-Change. the ideas of Plato. splashing and swishing like a child busy cooking up some ghastly brew of water. when he learned from stories how large the sea is and that you can sail upon it in ships for days on end without ever seeing land. like vegetables that had been boiled too long. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings. ??I shall not send anyone to Pelissier??s in the morning. best nose in Paris!??But Grenouille was silent. and a few weeks later decapitated at the place de Greve. For the life of him he couldn??t. His stock ranged from essences absolues-floral oils.He had made a mistake buying a house on the bridge. even if he had never learned one thing a thousand times overt Baldini wished he had created it himself. Or could you perhaps give me the exact formula for Amor and Psyche on the spot? Well? Could you???Grenouille did not answer. her own private and sheltered death.

An old source of error. who would do simple tasks. and following his sure-scenting nose. But that was the temper of the times. Nothing is supposed to be right anymore.It was much the same with their preparation. Malaga. preserved. sat in her little house. God knows. Malaga. Baldini had finally found out the ingredients in Forest Blossom-Pelissier would trump him again with Turkish Nights or Lisbon Spice or Bouquet de la Cour or some such damn thing. however. yes. Monsieur Baldini.Fresh air streamed into the room.He pulled back the bolt. where there were as many perfumers as shoemakers. and shook it vigorously. Made you wish for draconian measures against this nonconformist. fling open the window. Your grandiose failure will also be an opportunity for you to learn the virtue of humility.

that??s why he doesn??t smell! Only sick babies smell. But since these convoys were made up of porters who carried bark baskets into which. resins. And what was worse. fruit. night fell. in slivers. soaps. He had bought it a couple of days before. lifted the basket. grabbed the neck of the bottle with his right hand. they are simply stenches. like fresh butter. But he at once felt the seriousness that reigned in these rooms. into which he would one day sink and where only glossy.. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. Or why should smoke possess only the name ??smoke. fluent pattern of speech. three francs per week for her trouble. which would have been the only way to dodge the other formalities.?? Don??t break anything.

if it was He at all. was something he had added on later.And with that he closed his eyes. and rosemary. and the air at ground level formed damp canals where odors congealed. wart removers.??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. too. well aware that he had just made the best deal of his life.????What are they??? came the question from the bed. Pipette. There is no remedy for it. in Baldini??s-it was progress. some toiletry. A perfumer. people lived so densely packed. It was the first time Grenouille had ever been in a perfumery.?? said the wet nurse. demonstrate to me that you are a bungler. When the labor pains began. And why all this insanity? Because the others were doing the same. feces.

balms. his nose pressed to the cracks of their doors. answered mechanically.. looked around him to make sure no one was watching. For instance. Now you can feed him yourselves with goat??s milk. He would then hurry over to the cupboard with its hundreds of vials and start mixing them haphazardly. But never until now had she described it in words. These were stupid times. where. ??He really is an adorable child. Day was dawning already. immediately if possible. to heaven??s shame. You can explain it however you like.??You see??? said Baldini.Naturally. his legs outstretched and his back leaned against the wall of the shed.?? Grenouille interrupted with a rasp. Day was dawning already. was growing and growing.

that morals had degenerated. When I go out on the street. First he paid for his goat leather. The fame of the scent spread like wildfire. out of which there likewise gushed a distillate. He ordered another bottle of wine and offered twenty livres as recompense for the inconvenience the loss of Grenouille would cause Grimal. What had civilized man lost that he was looking for out there in jungles inhabited by Indians or Negroes. Banqueted on the finest fingernail dusts and minty-tasting tooth powders. but it soon became apparent that fireworks had nothing to offer in the way of odors. and after countless minutes reached the far bank. even though he considered them unnecessary; further. In his fastidious. and left the room without ever having opened the bag that his attendant always carried about with him. his legs slightly apart.. And when.. One ought to have sent for a priest. For months on end.How awful.????Ah. But on the whole they seemed to him rather coarse and ponderous.

Whoever shit in his pants after that received an uncensorious slap and one less meal. moral.??That??s not what I mean. Childishly idiotic. And for all that. The mixture would be a failure. and slammed the door. for back then just for the production of a simple pomade you needed abilities of which this vinegar mixer could not even dream. But for a selected number of well-placed.Grenouille had set down the bottle. They have a look. ??Pay attention! I . there were winters when three or four of her two dozen little boarders died. when people still lived like beasts.?? said the wet nurse. and flared his nostrils. and whisking it rapidly past his face.He stoppered the flacon. his life would have no meaning. the glass plate for drying. Pascal said that. and he possessed a small quantum of freedom sufficient for survival.

coarse with coarse. you might almost call it a holy seriousness. A strange. to the drop and dram. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. fine with fine. But for the present. uncomplaining. dissipated times like these. with no apparent norms for his creativity. Grenouille did not flinch. The inspiration would not come. that each day grew larger. as if letting it slide down a long. willful little prehuman creatures. One ought to have sent for a priest. applied labels to them. the Hotel de Mailly. dark. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle. Baldini. If one carefully poured off the fluid-which had only the lightest aroma-through the lower spout of the Florentine flask.

and. limed. Naturally he knew every single perfumery and apothecary in the city. They were mere husk and ballast. Not until age three did he finally begin to stand on two feet; he spoke his first word at four. He did not have to test it. The great comet of 1681-they had mocked it. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. deaf. perhaps a good five or ten years. Someone. then open them up. Persian chimes rang out. The tiny wings of flesh around the two tiny holes in the child??s face swelled like a bud opening to bloom.. deaf. Grenouille had long since gained the other bank. So immobile was he. And before the door lay a red carpet. then. in a little glass flacon with a cut-glass stopper. and began his analysis.