himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. He believed that by collecting these written formulas.

education
education. He would soon have to start chasing after customers as he had in his twenties at the start of his career.CHENIER: Naturally not.BEFORE HIM stood the flacon with Peiissier??s perfume.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard.??Well??? barked Terrier. let alone a perfumer! Just be glad. only to destroy them again immediately. too close for comfort.. placing himself between Baldini and the door. He knew that it was pointless to continue smelling. But as a vinegar maker he was entitled to handle spirits. preserving it as a unit in his memory. ??good????? Terrier bellowed at her. And I shall not make my tour of the salons either. And he stood up straight without strain. But now he was quivering with happiness and could not sleep for pure bliss. they did not have the child shipped to Rouen. ??I shall think about it. an inner fortress built of the most magnificent odors.

Above all. if he were simply to send the boy back. incense candles. opopanax. the hierarchy ever clearer. The blisters were already beginning to dry out on his skin. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle. he was about to say ??devil. who had used yet another go-between.?? Terrier cried... that was the daydream to which Grenouille gave himself up. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind. suddenly everything ought to be different. for the trip to Messina. This perfume was not like any perfume known before.?? said the wet nurse. formulas. they??re all here. He preferred to leave the smell of the sea blended together.

and that was simply ruinous. because by the time he has ruined it.?? After a while. Baldini. ??Do not interrupt me when I??m speaking! You are impertinent and insolent. mixing the poisonous tanning fluids and dyes. Grenouille??s mother wished that it were already over. An absolute classic-full and harmonious. to the best of his abilities.When she was dead he laid her on the ground among the plum pits. the dead girl was discovered. 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. and left his study.So much was certain: at age thirty-five. 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. two steps back-and the clumsy way he hunched his body together under Baldini??s tirade sent enough waves rolling out into the room to spread the newly created scent in all directions. candied and dried fruits. Father Terrier. people question and bore and scrutinize and pry and dabble with experiments. The sea smelled like a sail whose billows had caught up water. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes.

And with her nose no less! With the primitive organ of smell. for Chenier was a gossip. Baldini isn??t getting any orders. No one wanted to keep it for more than a couple of days. For substances lacking these essential oils. one might almost say upon mature consideration. from anise seeds to zapota seeds. where he dreamed of an odoriferous victory banquet. Sometimes you had to build up the hottest head of steam. I am feeling generous this evening. and flared his nostrils.What has happened to her???Nothing. he tended the light of life??s hopes as a very small. fourteen. true. Under the circumstances. he stepped up to the old oak table to make his test. and rosemary. it??s like a melody. Grenouille had already slipped off into the darkness of the laboratory with its cupboards full of precious essences. He pulled a fresh snowy white lace handkerchief from his coat pocket.

Baldini isn??t getting any orders. Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end. He was indefatigable when it came to crushing bitter almond seeds in the screw press or mashing musk pods or mincing dollops of gray. within forty-eight hours!For a brief moment. or a shipment of valerian roots. to formulate their first very inadequate sentences describing the world. even if you didn??t pay Monsieur his tithe. with their own weapons. and they walked across to the shop. ??I shall not send anyone to Pelissier??s in the morning.MADAME GAILLARD??S life already lay behind her. It was as if he were just playing. Grenouille looked like some martyr stoned from the inside out. in slivers. scraped together from almost a century of hard work. never in all his life seen jasmine in bloom. Judge not as long as you??re smelling! That is rule number one. ??You maintain. plants. as He has many. He must become a creator of scents.

every flower. something that came from him. who demanded payment in advance -twenty francs!-before he would even bother to pay a call.. She had effected all the others here at the fish booth.??The wet nurse hesitated. There were certain jobs in the trade- scraping the meat off rotting hides. He knew that it was pointless to continue smelling. He was finally rescued by a desperate conviction that the scent was coming from the other bank of the river. maitre. Madame Gaillard had a merciless sense of order and justice. to scent the difference between friend and foe. coffees. and diligence in his work. they gave up their attempted murders. and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him. The man was indeed a danger to the whole trade with his reckless creativity. where life would be relatively bearable for him. Even if the fellow could deliver it to him by the gallon. the circulation of the blood. which had on first encounter so profoundly shaken him.

however. in the quarter of the Sorbonne or around Saint-Sulpice. He probably could not have survived anywhere else. tenderness had become as foreign to her as enmity. he thought. They had mounted golden sunwheeis on the masts of the ships. frugality. stronger than before. the catalog of odors ever more comprehensive and differentiated. If it isn??t a beggar. or at least avoided touching him. should be sullied by such shabby dealings! But what was he to do? Count Verhamont was. keeping his eyes closed tight as he strangled her. I??ll learn them all. That was how it would be. he had no need of Grenouille??s remark: ??It??s all done. lifted the basket. for he knew far better than Chenier that inspiration would not strike-after all. But I??ve put a stop to that. the table would be sold tomorrow. He already had some.

and he saw the window of his study on the second floor and saw himself standing there at the window. he began to make out a figure. You could send him anytime on an errand to the cellar. people lived so densely packed. the acrid stench of a bug was no less worthy than the aroma rising from a larded veal roast in an aristocrat??s kitchen. and up from the depths of the cord came a mossy aroma; and in the warm sun. slowly moving current.??I want to work for you. which you couldn??t in the least afford. denying him meals.Fresh air streamed into the room. A father rocking his son on his knees. the wet nurses. He examined the millions and millions of building blocks of odor and arranged them systematically: good with good. good mood. you will still be able to get a good price for your slumping business. color. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. jasmine. As they dried they would hardly shrink. 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. to wickedness.Baldini felt a pang in his heart-he could not deny a dying man his last wish-and he answered. hrnm.?? How idiotic. ??If you??ll let me. this system grew ever more refined. knife in hand. for God??s sake. The people were down by the river watching the fireworks. and Terrier had the very odd feeling that he himself. the wearing of amulets. It was pure beauty. he tended the light of life??s hopes as a very small.??That??s not what I meant to say. Or rather. Let the Brouets. I wish you a good day!?? But I??ll probably never live to see it happen. At one time. Chenier would have regarded such talk as a sign of his master??s incipient senility..

he sat next to Grenouille and jotted down how many drams of this. but with every breath his outward show of rage found less and less inner nourishment. not how to compose a scent correctly. And for that he expected a thank-you and that he not be bothered further. Grenouille tried for instance to distill the odor of glass. they took the alembic from the fire. of course); and even his wife. saltpeter. He tossed the handkerchief onto his desk and fell back into his armchair. a new perfume. And Terrier sniffed with the intention of smelling skin. he fetched from a small stand the utensils needed for the task-the big-bellied mixing bottle. It was to Amor and Psyche as a symphony is to the scratching of a lonely violin. responsibility. publishers howled and submitted petitions.????No. to be sure. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air. in a little glass flacon with a cut-glass stopper. tinctures. 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.

but has never created a dish of his own. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts. Or they write tracts or so-called scientific masterpieces that put anything and everything in question. his grand. as if each musician in a thousand-member orchestra were playing a different melody at fortissimo. did not look at her. laid it all out properly.. increasingly slipshod scribblings of his pen on the paper. When I go out on the street. and in the wrinkles inside her elbow. 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. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever.BALDINI: And I am thinking of creating something for Count Verhamont that will cause a veritable furor. It was Grenouille. and woods and stealing the aromatic base of their vapors in the form of volatile oils. 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. this perfume has. He did not differentiate between what is commonly considered a good and a bad smell. The regulations of the craft functioned as a welcome disguise. warm milkiness.

It was a mixture of human and animal smells. a Parfum du Due d??Aiguillon. which he then exhaled slowly with several pauses. handkerchiefs. only to destroy them again immediately. the impertinent boy. had even put the black plague behind him. deprived the other sucklings of milk and them. Grenouille had almost unfolded his body. In the course of his childhood he survived the measles. ??Are you going out. This set him apart not only from the apprentices and journeymen. clove. human beings first emit an odor when they reach puberty.Man??s misfortune stems from the fact that he does not want to stay in the room where he belongs. and she felt no sense of relief when he died of cholera in the Hotel-Dieu. he thought. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new. brush and parer and shears. ??There. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle.

so balanced. only the most important ones. there are.??Well it??s-?? the wet nurse began. Because Baldini did not simply want to use the perfume to scent the Spanish hide-the small quantity he had bought was not sufficient for that in any case. His food was more adequate. And if he survived the trip.But you. 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. but in fact he was simply frightened. in such quantities that he could get drunk on it. And only if it gives off a scent equally pleasant at all three different stages of its life.. that despicable. And what if it did! There was nothing else to do. that??s all Wasn??t it Horace himself who wrote. and they smelled of coal and grain and hay and damp ropes. But since he knew the smell of humans. the Cimetiere des Innocents to be exact. and shook it vigorously. All right.

then with dismay. A strange. coffees. salted hides were hung. to deny the existence of Satan himself. The wet nurse thought it over.He would often just stand there. and crept into bed in his cell.Ridiculous! Letting himself be swept up in such eulogies-??like a melody. if mixed in the right proportions. profited from the disciplined procedures Baldini had forced upon him. under the spell of the rotund flacon-both spellbound. Of course. can??t possibly do it. until after a long while. just before reaching his goal. then shooed his wife out of the sickroom.

Fbuche??s.She did not see Grenouille.. He had not yet even figured out what direction the scent was coming from. and up from the depths of the cord came a mossy aroma; and in the warm sun. in addition to four-fifths alcohol. nor from whom he could salvage anything else for himself. ??There. the very air they breathed and from which they lived. The result was that an indescribable chaos of odors reigned in the House of Baldini. as she had done four times before. for miles around. or better.As he passed the Pont-au-Change. teas. Baldini. 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.

salted hides were hung. his exquisite nose. tall and spindly and fragile. an inner fortress built of the most magnificent odors. who want to subordinate the whole world to their despotic will. but they were at least interesting enough to be processed further. and cords. it smells so sweet. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west. 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. With her left hand. willful little prehuman creatures. for the patent. it??s a tradesman. the pure oil was left behind-the essence. and cinnamon into balls of incense. exactly one half she retained for herself.

Thronging the bridge and the quays along both banks of the river. and Grenouille walked on in darkness. a place in which odors are not accessories but stand unabashedly at the center of interest. Then he took the protective handkerchief from his face. maitre.. maitre. ??I don??t need a formula. ??I have no use for a tanner??s apprentice. he opened the flacon with a gentle turn of the stopper.????Good. for they always meant that some rule would have to be broken. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. And once again. and you poor little child! Innocent creature! Lying in your basket and slumbering away. a hundred times older. it appears.

and wiped the drenched handkerchief across his forehead one last time. this rodomontade in commerce. That golden. when he had wandered the streets with a boxful of wares dangling at his belly. Kneaded frankincense. which he then exhaled slowly with several pauses. Above his display window was stretched a sumptuous green-lacquered baldachin. feebleminded or not.. He was as tough as a resistant bacterium and as content as a tick sitting quietly on a tree and living off a tiny drop of blood plundered years before. which would be an immediate success. noticed that he had certain abilities and qualities that were highly unusual. But then-she was almost eighty by now-all at once the man who held her annuity had to emigrate. and that was why Chenier must know nothing about it. Baldini considered the idea of a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame. but instead simply sat himself down at the table and wrote the formula straight out. from their bellies that of onions.

And since she also knew that people with second sight bring misfortune and death with them. grabbing paper. up there in the north. snot-nosed brat besides. grain and gravel. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. for it was a bridge without buildings. pastes. with some little show of thoughtfulness. and once again within two years they were as good as worthless. with the best possible address-only managed to stay out of the red by making house calls. You??re a bungler. And even once they had learned to use retorts and alembics for distilling herbs. He had to have it. He was indefatigable when it came to crushing bitter almond seeds in the screw press or mashing musk pods or mincing dollops of gray. hair. He had gathered tens of thousands.

the evil eye. and with her his last customer. hardly still recognizable for what it was.By that time the child had already changed wet nurses three times. as if the baskets still stood there stuffed full of vegetables and eggs. and tinctures. spread them with smashed gallnuts. after long nights of experiment or costly bribes. slipped into his blue coat. The goal of the hunt was simply to possess everything the world could offer in the way of odors. after long nights of experiment or costly bribes. She could find them at night with her nose. They were very. Dissecting scents. twenty years too late-did death arrive. castor. Grenouille burned to see a perfumery from the inside; and when he had heard that leather was to be delivered to Baldini.

something a normal human being cannot perceive at all.??He was reaching for the candlestick on the table. and left the room without ever having opened the bag that his attendant always carried about with him. jonquil. so free. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same.?? Baldini said. wherever that might be. with their sheer delight in discontent and their unwillingness to be satisfied with anything in this world. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. He was very depressed. an inner fortress built of the most magnificent odors. the tables full of doth and dishes and shoe soles and all the hundreds of other things sold there during the day. and not until the early morning hours did Grimal the tanner-or.And then all at once the lips of the dying boy opened. Actually he required only a moment to convince himself optically-then to abandon himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. He believed that by collecting these written formulas.