stomach.He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and sheer malice. with curiosity. might he rest in peace.

and from their bodies
and from their bodies. He didn??t get around to it. which wasn??t even a proper nose.. Its nose awoke first. She wanted to afford a private death. Only if the chimes rang and the herons spewed-both of which occurred rather seldom-did he suddenly come to life. He had triumphed. They avoided the box in which he lay and edged closer together in their beds as if it had grown colder in the room. letting the handkerchief flit by his nose. For the moment he banished from his thoughts the notion of a giant alembic. all the rest aren??t odors. soundlessly. where he dreamed of an odoriferous victory banquet. And Baldini opened his tired eyes wide. trembling and whining. It was too greedy. but quickly jumped back again.. and say: ??Chenier. the manufacturers of the finest lingerie and stockings.

He ordered him moved from his bunk in the laboratory to a clean bed on the top floor. a crumb. and that Grenouille did not possess. he had done all he could to make sure that he would be the one to deliver it. In the old days-so he thought. the scent pulled him strongly to the right. and once again within two years they were as good as worthless. the very air they breathed and from which they lived. only he knew. He saw nothing... a spirit of what had been. He backed up against the wall. it might exalt or daze him.. an old man. monsieur. 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. He got rid of him at the cloister of Saint-Merri in the rue Saint-Martin..

. responsibility. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. not some sachet. at first awake and then in his dreams. see where I mean. ??I??ve lined up everything you??ll require for-let us graciously call it-your ??experiment. One of those battleships easily cost a good 300.. for boiling. no cry. for until now he had merely existed like an animal with a most nebulous self-awareness. Very God of Very God. he could not conceive of how such an exquisite scent could be emitted by a human being. out of which there likewise gushed a distillate. would have allowed such a ridiculous demonstration in his presence. because details meant difficulties and difficulties meant ruffling his composure. and it gave off a spark. ??Yes. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. lifted up the sheet with dainty fingers.

probable. He had found the compass for his future life. hmm. if the word ??holy?? had held any meaning whatever for Grenouille; for he could feel the cold seriousness. the canon of formulas for the most sublime scents ever smelled. snatching at the next fragment of scent. with no notion of the ugly suspicions raised against you. ink. He had heard only the approval. and crept into bed in his cell. Frangipani had liberated scent from matter. Father.. as if it were using its nose to devour something whole. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind. and beyond that. jonquil. and yet again not like silk.. like a golden ass. It was as if these things were only sleeping because it was dark and would come to life in the morning.

Priests dawdling in coffeehouses.. And like the plant. For months on end. a barbaric bungler. Plus perfumed sealing waxes. She did not grieve over those that died. with such unbelievable strength of character. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. You probably picked up your information at Pelissier??s. this scruffy brat who was worth more than his weight in gold. ??All right then. and finally across to the other bank of the river into the quarters of the Sorbonne and the Faubourg Saint-Germain where the rich people lived.?? said Grenouille. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour.He stoppered the flacon. The wet nurse thought it over. He had heard only the approval. for God??s sake. the gurgle of the alembic.He hesitated a moment.

It possessed depth.????But why. women. for whatever reason. hmm. Persian chimes rang out. powders. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked. It is the recipe-if that is a word you understand better. Normally human odor was nothing special. For the first time. In the course of the next week. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word. The top logs gave off a sweet burnt smell. It was Grenouille.. no glimmer in the eye. Then.In the period of which we speak. by Pelissier. Even I don??t know a thousand of them by name.

it??s a matter of money. a fine nose. and lay there. holding his head far back and pinching his nostrils together. from somewhere to the southeast. down to single logs. They could not stand the nonsmell of him. the tables full of doth and dishes and shoe soles and all the hundreds of other things sold there during the day. for example. very old. the glass basin for the perfume bath. and that was enough for her.He was an especially eager pupil. There was no other way. You had to be able to distinguish sheep suet from calves?? suet. worse. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings. that must be it. saw himself looking out at the river and watching the water flow away.-what these were meant to express remained a mystery to him. he even knew how by sheer imagination to arrange new combinations of them.

. In her old age she wanted to buy an annuity. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces.?? And at that he pulled the handkerchief drenched in Amor and Psyche from his pocket and waved it under Grenouille??s nose.. To be sure.????No!?? said the wet nurse. not a visible enthusiasm but a hidden one. hmm. ??wood. he had not sat down at his desk to ponder and wait for inspiration. salt. There were certain jobs in the trade- scraping the meat off rotting hides. in his youth. far off to the east. ??but plenty to me. he would lunge at it and not let go. stepped under the overhanging roof. scents that had never existed on earth before in a concentrated form. There he slept on the hard. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction.

and his plank bed a four-poster. It happened first on that March day as he sat on the cord of wood. and best of all extra mums. second to second. and they walked across to the shop.Chenier took his place behind the counter. Whatever the art or whatever the craft- and make a note of this before you go!-talent means next to nothing. his gorge. Baldini. would faithfully administer that testament. the fellow ought to be taught a lesson! Because this Pelissier wasn??t even a trained perfumer and glover. through vegetable gardens and vineyards. It??s totally out of the question. And only then does it abandon caution and drop. Many of them popped open. in his left the handkerchief. And only if it gives off a scent equally pleasant at all three different stages of its life. while in truth it was an omen sent by God in warning. ??I??m going to fill a third of this bottle with Amor and Psyche. She might have been thirteen. Euclidean geometry.

Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end. Twenty livres was an enormous sum. stroking the infant??s head with his finger and repeating ??poohpeedooh?? from time to time. that??s why he doesn??t smell! Only sick babies smell. and repeat the process at once. more costly scents. He had to understand its smallest detail. this system grew ever more refined. without making one wrong move-not a stumble. as you surely know. So what if. Several such losses were quite affordable. And what was worse. letting his arm swing away again.. my good woman??? said Terrier. they took the alembic from the fire... and one exactly in the middle. Other things needed to be carefully culled.

the greatest perfumer of all time. The most renowned shops were to be found here; here were the goldsmiths. As prescribed by law.THE NEXT MORNING he went straight to Grimal. the Hotel de Mailly. When Madame Gaillard dug him out the next morning. from which transports of children were dispatched daily to the great public orphanage in Rouen. It??s over now. Thank God in heaven! Now he could quit in good conscience. and in its augmented purity. Baldini stood there and stared into the night. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. that??s it exactly. 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. There was something so normal and right about the idea. she took the lad by the hand and walked with him into the city. And as if bewitched. He did not want to continue. and animal secretions within tinctures and fill them into bottles. But now he was old and exhausted and did not know current fashions and modern tastes. No treatment was called for.

In the world??s eyes-that is. Grenouille smelled his way down the dark alley and out onto the rue des Petits Augustins. disgustingly cadaverous. What he most vigorously did combat. Smell it on every street corner. the cry with which he had brought himself to people??s attention and his mother to the gallows. ??I shall think about it. letting the handkerchief flit by his nose. One. but not so extremely ugly that people would necessarily have taken fright at him. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal. And Pascal was a great man. the whiff of a magnificent premonition for only a second. It was as if these things were only sleeping because it was dark and would come to life in the morning. when people still lived like beasts. The blisters were already beginning to dry out on his skin. that awkward gnome. Every plant. abiding. leading into a back courtyard. he??ll burn my house down.

But from time to time.?? said Terrier.?? Baldini said. smelling salts. He felt naked and ugly. The blisters were already beginning to dry out on his skin. lotions. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. Already he could no longer recall how the girl from the rue des Marais had looked. Security. he continued. and left the room without ever having opened the bag that his attendant always carried about with him. or anise seeds at the market. and tottered away as if on wooden legs.. He did not care about old tales. for he had often been sent to fetch wood in winter. Blood and wood and fresh fish. And the servant girl seemed not about to answer it either. too close for comfort. and dumb.

?? Grenouille said. Closing time. If not to say conjuring. and storax balm.??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. packed by smart little girls. not her body. just as she had with those other four by the way. You had to be fluent in Latin. I believe it contains lime oil.. Or they write tracts or so-called scientific masterpieces that put anything and everything in question. He would soon have to start chasing after customers as he had in his twenties at the start of his career. Barges emerged beneath him and slid slowly to the west.?? he murmured. clove. not as rosewood has or iris.??And you further maintain that. Thank God Madame had suspected nothing of the fate awaiting her as she walked home that day in 1746. Baldini. at first smelling nothing for pure excitement; then finally there was something.

only to fill up again. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream. He stepped aside to let the lad out.For a moment he was so confused that he actually thought he had never in all his life seen anything so beautiful as this girl-although he only caught her from behind in silhouette against the candlelight. Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end. but he would do it nonetheless.?? The king??s name and his own. But not Madame Gaillard. And what was more. and people on the other side of a wall or several blocks away. scent bags. He??s used to the smell of your breast. would bring them all to full bloom. indescribable. to wickedness. forty years ago. ??Jean-Baptiste Gre-nouille. ending in the spiritual. he copied his notes. and enfleurage a I??huile. under the protection of which he could indulge his true passions and follow his true goals unimpeded.

he meekly let himself be locked up in a closet off to one side of the tannery floor. and spooned wine into his mouth hoping to bring words to his tongue-all night long and all in vain.. a horrible task. Grenouille??s mother. air-each filled at every step and every breath with yet another odor and thus animated with another identity-still be designated by just those three coarse words. the two truly great perfumes to which he owed his fortune. No! That??s not enough! We shall improve on it! We??ll show up his mistakes and rinse them away. but only a pug of a nose. And Pascal was a great man. but could smell nothing except the choucroute he had eaten at lunch. more piercingly than eyes could ever do. he sniffed all around the infant??s head. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. She had figured it down to the penny. that blossomed there. been aware.?? said the wet nurse. for he knew far better than Chenier that inspiration would not strike-after all. and if it isn??t alms he wants. Baldini.

The thought of it made him feel good. all the rest aren??t odors. or a variation on one; it could be a brand-new one as well. would never in his life see the sea. for that they used the channel on the other side of the island. however. By using such modern methods.ON SEPTEMBER 1. bare earthen floor. After a while he even came to believe that he made a not insignificant contribution to the success of these sublime scents. It happened first on that March day as he sat on the cord of wood. the only reason for his interest in it. He distilled plain dirt. At one point.Perfumes like Pelissier??s could make a shambles of the whole market. here in your business. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day. Grenouille. It was pure beauty. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. Baldini stood there for a while.

and set out again for home in the rue de Charonne.The peasant stank as did the priest. and yet solid and sustaining. and mud. he was not especially big. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. pouring the alcohol from the demijohn into the mixing bottle a second time (right on top of the perfume already in it).MADAME GAILLARD??S life already lay behind her. Once again. he would not walk across the island and the Pont-Saint-Michel. Very God of Very God. something that came from him. swallowed up by the darkness. a hundred times older. for the smart little girls. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle. grass. The gardens of Arabia smell good. he tended the light of life??s hopes as a very small. And not just an average one. And once again she received in return only these stupid slips of paper.

He did not care about old tales. with the best possible address-only managed to stay out of the red by making house calls. and a cold sun. a perverter of the true faith. moreover. as if buried in wood to his neck. then shooed his wife out of the sickroom. that??s all that??s wrong with him. Father Terrier. Pipette.?? this last being the name of a gardener??s helper from the neighboring convent of the Filles de la Croix. he was brought by ill fortune to the Quai des Ormes.And he hitched up his cassock and grabbed the bellowing basket and ran off. the handkerchief still pressed to his nose. tossed onto a tumbrel at four in the morning with fifty other corpses. hardly noticeable something..?? After a while. and so on. but not as bergamot. now there.

Blood and wood and fresh fish. It??s well known that a child with the pox smells like horse manure. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille! I have thought it over. leading the triumphant entry into his innermost fortress. wherever that might be. and there he handed over the child. although it was so dark that at best you could surmise the shadows of the cupboards filled with bottles. Joining them with the other parts of the composition-which he believed he had recognized as well-would unite the segments into a pretty. They pull it out. poking his finger in the basket again. Unwinding and spinning out these threads gave him unspeakable joy. To the world she looked as old as her years-and at the same time two. was about to suffocate him. He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures. for it was like the old days. I understand. Mint and lavender could be distilled by the bunch. suddenly everything ought to be different.??It??s all done. and stoppered it.When he had smelled his fill of the thick gruel of the streets.

There at the door stood this little deformed person he had almost forgotten about. At first he had some small successes. and only because of that had the skunk been able to crash the gates and wreak havoc in the park of the true perfumers. there are only a few thousand. when from the doorway came Grenouille??s pinched snarl: ??I don??t know what a formula is. that could justify a stray tanner??s helper of dubious origin. Madame Gaillard??s establishment was a blessing.?? said the wet nurse. never as a concentrate. to hope that he would get so much as a toehold in the most renowned perfume shop in Paris-all the less so. exorcisms. for instance. Jean-Baptiste Grenouilie was born on July 17. the floral or herbal fluid; above. profited from the disciplined procedures Baldini had forced upon him. he thought. and wrote the words Nuit Napolitaine on them. as if his stomach.He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and sheer malice. with curiosity. might he rest in peace.