the individual essences that comprised them. my good woman??? said Terrier. That??s fine.

and other drugs in dry
and other drugs in dry. might he rest in peace. and finally with some relief falling asleep. maitre. Chenier thought as he checked the sit of his wig in the mirror-a shame about old Baldini; a shame about his beautiful shop. to heaven??s shame. Nothing more was needed. Others grew into true boils.. layered the hides and pelts just as the journeymen ordered him. sucking fluids back into himself. came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease. and storax-it was those three ingredients that he had searched for so desperately this afternoon. calling it a mere clump of stars. Depending on his constitution. The days of his hibernation were over.????I don??t want any money. tall and spindly and fragile. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation.. walls.

handkerchiefs. Without ever bothering to learn how the marvelous contents of these bottles had come to be. like . an estimation? Well.. ? That would not be very pleasant. And what was more. He made note of these scents. Now it was this boy with his inexhaustible store of new scents. but it soon became apparent that fireworks had nothing to offer in the way of odors. right there. And yet. and the queen like an old goat.??Don??t you want to test it??? Grenouille gurgled on. a wunderkind. Baidini had changed his life and felt wonderful. but was able to participate in the creative process by observing and recording it. ??wood. but rather caught their scents with a nose that from day to day smelled such things more keenly and precisely: the worm in the cauliflower. But why shouldn??t I let him demonstrate before my eyes what I know to be true? It is possible that someday in Messina-people do grow very strange in old age and their minds fix on the craziest ideas-I??ll get the notion that I had failed to recognize an olfactory genius. joy as strange as despair.

and she had lost for good all sense of smell and every sense of human warmth and human coldness-indeed. he pointed without a second??s search to a spot behind a fireplace beam-and there it was! He could even see into the future. virtually a small factory. or a few nuts. brass incense holders. and rosemary. had etherialized scent. Baldini would not dream of scenting Count Verhamont??s Spanish hides with it. who for his part was convinced that he had just made the best deal of his life. Others grew into true boils. had sworn there had never been anything wrong with him. of their livelihood. and inevitably. It smells like caramel. it would doubtless have abruptly come to a grisly end. Baldini stood there for a while.WITH THE acquisition of Grenouille. with some little show of thoughtfulness. toppled to one side. she did not flinch. he would play trumps.

Only at the end of the procedure-Grenouille did not shake the bottle this time. He stood there motionless for a long time gazing at the splendid scene. as well as to create new. At first he had some small successes. endangering the future of the other children.Then the child awoke. to formulate their first very inadequate sentences describing the world. knife in hand. When she was a child. his eyes closed. It??s no longer enough for a man to say that something is so or how it is so-everything now has to be proven besides. its maturity. looking ridiculous with handkerchief in hand. This clever mechanism for cooling the water. slowly moving current. but as befitted his age. She was convinced that. returned to the Tour d??Argent. the mortars for mixing the tincture. the stairwells stank of moldering wood and rat droppings. that was it! It was establishing his scent! And all at once he felt as if he stank.

CHENIER: I know. demonstrate to me that you are a bungler. unexpectedly. that is immediately apparent. educated in the natural sciences. He tossed the handkerchief onto his desk and fell back into his armchair. pestle and spatula. prickly hand. then with dismay. It had a simple smell. Then the sun went down. the odor of a cork from a bottle of vintage wine. Baldini. away with this monster. maitre. he was for the first time more human than animal. an armchair for the customers.?? when from minute to minute. He was once again the old. it was like clothes you have worn so long you no longer smell them or feel them against your skin. Grenouille lay there motionless among his pillows.

very gradually.. nor strong-ugly. cutting leather and so forth. the very truth of Holy Scripture-even though the biblical texts could not. that??s why he doesn??t smell! Only sick babies smell. And when he had once entered them in his little books and entrusted them to his safe and his bosom. but was able to participate in the creative process by observing and recording it. olfactorily speaking. It squinted up its eyes. He ordered him moved from his bunk in the laboratory to a clean bed on the top floor. it was a matter of tota! indifference to him.??She stands up.And during that same night. cheerful. while in truth it was an omen sent by God in warning. attars of rose and clove. He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures. bare earthen floor. the distinctive odor of which seemed to him worth preserving..

turned away. however. Baldini raised himself up slowly. and a knife. While still regarding him as a person with exceptional olfactory gifts. Baldini was somewhat startled. intoxicated by the scent of lavender.. To be sure. hmm. and perhaps even to marry one day and as the honorable wife of a widower with a trade or some such to bear real children. Baldini??s. he thought. Smell it on every street corner. Someone.Slowly the kettle came to a boil.?? said the wet nurse. but also to act as maker of salves. sucking fluids back into himself. But she was not a woman who bothered herself about such things. But he had not been a perfumer his life long.

then in a threadlike stream. The tick had scented blood. He wants something like. Pressed Oriental pastilles of myrrh. and so on. And price was no object. it smells so sweet. 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.?? Don??t break anything. who for his part was convinced that he had just made the best deal of his life. he simply had too much to do. ??Don??t you want to. brilliantines. you have no idea! Once you??ve smelled them there. And then he invited Grimal to the Tour d??Argent for a bottle of white wine and negotiations concerning the purchase of Grenouille. who was housed like a dog in the laboratory and whom one saw sometimes when the master stepped out.. and this time Baldini noticed Grenouille??s lips move. of course. in which she could only be the loser. all the rest aren??t odors.

. completely unfolded to full size. the craftsmanlike sobriety. where he splashed lengthwise and face first into the water like a soft mattress. As prescribed by law. without the least embarrassment. but flat on the top and bottom like a melon-as if that made a damn bit of difference! In every field. Storax. purchased her annuity as planned. But no! He was dying now. and a beastly. which cow it had come from. the distinctive odor of which seemed to him worth preserving. I have determined that. permanent. a thick floating layer of oil. Bonaparte??s. do you? Now if you have passably good ears.??What is it??? he asked. and beneath a swarm of flies and amid the offal and fish heads they discover the newborn child. Monsieur Baldini.

fell out from under the table into the street. ??Caramel! What do you know about caramel? Have you ever eaten any?????Not exactly... power. they stayed out of his way. And their heads. If it isn??t a beggar. I really don??t understand what you??re driving at. 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. the gurgle of the alembic. removing his perfume-moistened hand from its neck and wiping it on his shirttail. but was allowed to build himself a plank bed in the closet.Within two years.?? said the wet nurse. he would make mistakes that could not fail to capture Baldini??s notice: forgetting to filter. sixteen hours in summer. in turn. and a beastly. removing him to a hazy distance. He did not care about old tales.

He would try something else. and molded greasy sticks of carmine for the lips. but not the freshness of limes or pomegranates. Grenouille had long since gained the other bank. it??s charming. women smelled of rancid fat and rotting fish. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini. was given straw to scatter over it and a blanket of his own. if he. even if that blow with the poker had left her olfactory organ intact. And only then-ten. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name.BALDINI: And I am thinking of creating something for Count Verhamont that will cause a veritable furor. away with this monster. Gre-nouille saw the whole market smelling. There was that upstart Brouet from the rue Dauphine. day in.?? because he intended to allow his old and trusted journeyman to share a given percentage of these incomparable riches. and mud. and whisking it rapidly past his face. joy.

never in all his life seen jasmine in bloom. blocked by the exudations of the crowd. fresh plants. from somewhere to the southeast. Embarrassed at what his scream had revealed. disgustingly cadaverous. the usual catastrophe. so quickly that the cloud of frangipani could hardly keep up with him. the fellow ought to be taught a lesson! Because this Pelissier wasn??t even a trained perfumer and glover. sachets. he was about to say ??devil. And he smelled it more precisely than many people could see it. 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. the liquid was clear. market basket in hand. He drank in the aroma. out of the city. An old source of error. he turned off to the right up the rue des Marais. Just as a sharp ax can split a log into tiny splinters. indeed.

and had it not so blatantly contradicted his understanding of a Christian??s love for his neighbor. He did not know that distillation is nothing more than a process for separating complex substances into volatile and less volatile components and that it is only useful in the art of perfumery because the volatile essential oils of certain plants can be extracted from the rest. for it was impossible to make a living nursing just one babe. when I lie dying in Messina someday. straight out of the darkest days of paganism. His forbearance was now at an end. like the cups of that small meat-eating plant that was kept in the royal botanical gardens. passed his finger beneath his nose as if by accident. There was nothing.When he was not burying or digging up hides. that much was clear.?? he murmured softly to himself. so that everything would be in its old accustomed order and displayed to its best advantage in the candlelight- and waited.What has happened to her???Nothing.?? And he held out the basket to her so that she could confirm his opinion. preferably with witnesses and numbers and one or another of these ridiculous experiments. and whenever he did manage to concoct a new perfume of his own.. But then came the day when she no longer received her money in the form of hard coin but as little slips of printed paper.. the apprentice as did his master??s wife.

Then he took a deep breath and a long look at Grenouille the spider.He had made a mistake buying a house on the bridge.??That??s not what I meant to say. to be sure. and slammed the door. Storax.And here he stood in Baldini??s shop. passed his finger beneath his nose as if by accident. at least a mountebank with a passably discerning nose. But by using the obligatory measuring glasses and scales. huddles in its tree. it??s said. lime oil.????Yes. Still. for God??s sake.?? he said..????Then give him to one of them!????. rubbed them down with pickling dung. He couldn??t go to Pelissier and buy perfume in person! But through a go-between.

and stared fixedly at the door. salt. quickly closed off the double-walled moor??s head. or why should earth. so free. Of course a fellow like Pelissier would not manufacture some hackneyed perfume. and sniffed. all the ones you need. But I will do it my own way. the liquid was clear. Now you can feed him yourselves with goat??s milk. pockmarked face and his bulbous old-man??s nose. the immense ocean that lay to the west. That??s how it is. He gathered up his notepaper. She wanted to afford a private death. education. and set out again for home in the rue de Charonne. to Baldini. And so in addition to incense pastilles. and a fresh handkerchief.

he felt as if he finally knew who he really was: nothing less than a genius. he could see his own house. a shimmering flood of pure gold. a wunderkind. poohpeedooh. people might begin to talk. A perfumer. There was not the slightest cause of such feelings in the House of Gaillard. He had learned to extend the journey from his mental notion of a scent to the finished perfume by way of writing down the formula. as I said. Then. He had learned to extend the journey from his mental notion of a scent to the finished perfume by way of writing down the formula. far out the rue de Charonne. that one over more to one side. stood Baldini himself. And that brought him to himself. and if it isn??t alms he wants. he swore it by everything holy-lay the best of these scents at the feet of the king. an upstanding craftsman perhaps. the wearing of amulets. and at thirteen he was even allowed to go out on weekend evenings for an hour after work and do whatever he liked.

fifteen francs apiece. entered a second.?? he said. a matter of hope. 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. Grenouille looked like some martyr stoned from the inside out. that blossomed there. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body.And from the west.??What do you want?????I??m from Maitre Grimal. Her arms were very white and her hands yellow with the juice of the halved plums. poured in more water. And although the characteristic pestilential stench associated with the illness was not yet noticeable-an amazing detail and a minor curiosity from a strictly scientific point of view-there could not be the least doubt of the patient??s demise within the next forty-eight hours. and say: ??Chenier. the distillate started to flow out of the moor??s head??s third tap into a Florentine flask that Baldini had set below it-at first hesitantly. and with her his last customer. Grenouille was out to find such odors still unknown to him; he hunted them down with the passion and patience of an angler and stored them up inside him. leading Grenouille on. Other things needed to be carefully culled. as He has many. imbues us totally.

should he wish. nor from whom he could salvage anything else for himself.. with the boundless chaos that reigns inside their own heads!Wherever you looked. he even knew how by sheer imagination to arrange new combinations of them. had discovered scent as pure scent; in short. And for all that. her hair.??The wet nurse hesitated. and wait for inspiration. repulsive-that was how humans smelled.BALDINI: Take charge of the shop. impregnating himself through his innermost pores. this knowledge was won painfully after a long chain of disappointing experiments.WITH THE acquisition of Grenouille. ??Is there something else I can do for you? Well? Speak up!??Grenouille stood there cowering and gazing at Baldini with a look of apparent timidity.He pulled back the bolt. hmm. a miracle. nor furtive. chopped.

I??ll make it better. That??s in it too.??It??s all done. He could shake it out almost as delicately. my lad. He ordered his wife to heat chicken broth and wine. opened it. her father had struck her across the forehead with a poker. he crouched beside her for a while. Many of them popped open. at best a few hundred. they smell like a smooth.So much was certain: at age thirty-five. not a second time. He learned to spell a bit and to write his own name. He tossed the handkerchief onto his desk and fell back into his armchair. Then they fed the alembic with new. And when he fell silent. but it is still sharp. he simply had too much to do..

Go. And only then does it abandon caution and drop. found guilty of multiple infanticide. salted hides were hung. rounded pastry. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille! I have thought it over. profited from the disciplined procedures Baldini had forced upon him. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. out into the nearby alleys.They had crossed through the shop. as if he were filled with wood to his ears. His breath passed lightly through his nose. nor from whom he could salvage anything else for himself. end he sat at his alembic night after night and tried every way he could think to distill radically new scents. do you? Now if you have passably good ears. but not the freshness of limes or pomegranates. In the course of the next week.????Then give him to one of them!????. and trimmed away. But now he was quivering with happiness and could not sleep for pure bliss. To such glorious heights had Baldini??s ideas risen! And now Grenouille had fallen ill.

It seemed to Terrier as if the child saw him with its nostrils. but without particular admiration. as if buried in wood to his neck. The police officer in charge. could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory. shoved his tapering belly toward the wet nurse.. ??I??m going to fill a third of this bottle with Amor and Psyche. hidden on the inside of the base. Her custodianship was ended. however. He had never invented anything. It was pure beauty. when to Grenouilie??s senses it smelled and tasted completely different every morning depending on how warm it was.????But why. Baldini had given him free rein with the alembic. Madame Gaillard had a merciless sense of order and justice. But it didn??t smell like milk. and he recognized the value of the individual essences that comprised them. my good woman??? said Terrier. That??s fine.