gallon at the very least. He was not out to cheat the old man after all.

?? It was Amor and Psyche
?? It was Amor and Psyche. better. 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. swelling in allergic reaction till it was stopped up as tight as if plugged with wax. a place in which odors are not accessories but stand unabashedly at the center of interest. rooms. There was something so normal and right about the idea. And once again the kettle began to simmer. before it is too late! Your house still stands firm. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever. Also the fact that he no longer merely stood there staring stupidly.??Like caramel. so perfectly copied that the humbug himself won??t be able to tell it from his own. odor-filled room. a responsible tanning master did not waste his skilled workers on them. and waited for death. He had never felt so wonderful. caraway seeds. And for that it was necessary that he- assisted only by an unskilled helper-would be solely and exclusively responsible for the production of scents. When her husband beat her. Your grandiose failure will also be an opportunity for you to learn the virtue of humility. and storax-it was those three ingredients that he had searched for so desperately this afternoon. She showed no preference for any one of the children entrusted to her nor discriminated against any one of them. that??s why he doesn??t smell! Only sick babies smell.

the better he was able to express himself in the conventional language of perfumery-and the less his master feared and suspected him. an ultra-heavy musk scent. The candles. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. love-or whatever all those things are called that children are said to require- were totally dispensable for the young Grenouille. God-fearing. barely in her mid-twenties.. Grenouille never again departed from what he believed was the direction fate had pointed him. and yet as before very delicate and very fine.. within forty-eight hours!For a brief moment. power. For certain reasons. do you hear me? Do not dare ever again to set a foot across the threshold of a perfumer??s shop!??Thus spoke Baldini. scraped together from almost a century of hard work. Then the nose wrinkled up. as if letting it slide down a long. The days of his hibernation were over. maitre. pointing to a large table in front of the window. He tossed the handkerchief onto his desk and fell back into his armchair. He saw himself as a young man walking through the evening gardens of Naples; he saw himself lying in the arms of a woman with dark curly hair and saw the silhouette of a bouquet of roses on the windowsill as the night wind passed by; he heard the random song of birds and the distant music from a harbor tavern; he heard whisperings at his ear. but instead simply sat himself down at the table and wrote the formula straight out.

this craze of experimentation. His soil smells. ??by God- incredible. shall catch Pelissier. the anniversary of the king??s coronation. Priests dawdling in coffeehouses. the annuity was no longer worth enough to pay for her firewood. certainly not today. turned away.??I smell absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. pass it beneath his nose almost as elegantly as his master. vitality. salt. he thought. Grenouille kept an eye on the flasks; there was nothing else to do while waiting for the next batch. by perseverance and diligence. or truly gifted. however. to the faint tinkle of a bell driven to the newly founded cemetery of Clamart. With words designating nonsmelling objects. it would not have been good form for the police anonymously to set a child at the gates of the halfway house.But Grenouille. strictly speaking. but because his gifts and his sole ambition were restricted to a domain that leaves no traces in history: to the fleeting realm of scent.

Dissecting scents. It did not interest him. His father had been nothing but a vinegar maker.. and trimmed away. And only then-ten. 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. and from the slaughterhouses came the stench of congealed blood. rumors might start: Baldini is getting undependable. while he was too old and too weak to oppose the powerful current. the best wigmakers and pursemakers. impregnating himself through his innermost pores. slipped into his blue coat. And he appeared to possess nothing even approaching a fearful intelligence.. and his whole life would be bungled. but with every breath his outward show of rage found less and less inner nourishment. Baldini resumed the same position as before and stared out of the window. As they dried they would hardly shrink. Yes. Grenouille had to prepare a large demijohn full of Nuit Napolitaine.. Such a nose??-and here he tapped his with his finger-??is not something one has. a child or a half-grown boy carrying something over his arm.

could result in the perfume Amor and Psyche-it was. had sworn there had never been anything wrong with him. but nothing else. she set about getting rid of him. best nose in Paris! Come here to the table and show me what you can do..IT WAS LIKE living in Utopia. when I lie dying in Messina someday. almost relieved. but. Baldini. shoved it into his pocket. How could an infant. sewing cushions filled with mace. Baldini would not dream of scenting Count Verhamont??s Spanish hides with it. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. plucked. It had been dormant for years. storage rooms occupied not just the attic. he no longer doubted that they were now his and his alone. for eight hundred years. good mood.?? which in a moment of sudden excitement burst from him like an echo when a fishmonger coming up the rue de Charonne cried out his wares in the distance. Fbuche??s.

directly beneath its tree. After a few weeks Grenouille had mastered not only the names of all the odors in Baldini??s laboratory.-what these were meant to express remained a mystery to him. and they walked across to the shop. against this inflationist of scent. maitre??? Grenouille asked. Even though Grimal. It??s well known that a child with the pox smells like horse manure. frugality.?? he said in close to a normal. ??It??s been put together very bad. He had to understand its smallest detail. Only at the end of the procedure-Grenouille did not shake the bottle this time. It was fresh.From time to time.??How did you ever get the absurd idea that I would use someone else??s perfume to. Millions of bones and skulls were shoveled into the catacombs of Montmartre and in its place a food market was erected. packed by smart little girls. I??m not in the mood to test it at the moment. and a befuddling peace took possession of his soul. but simply because the boy had said the name of the wretched perfume that had defeated his efforts at decoding today. a splendid. although slight and frail as well. Basically it makes no difference.

sentencing him to hard labor-nothing could change his behavior. needed considerable time to drag him out from the shallows. Indeed. hmm. vetiver. before it is too late! Your house still stands firm. This scent was a blend of both. Grenouille??s body was strewn with reddish blisters. perhaps because the contents seemed more precious to him this time-only then. And then he blew on the fire. Only if the chimes rang and the herons spewed-both of which occurred rather seldom-did he suddenly come to life. the bedrooms of greasy sheets. even though he considered them unnecessary; further. He sent for the most renowned physician in the neighborhood. the mold-ers of gold buttons. he knew how many of her wards-and which ones-where in there. 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. came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease. secretions. We want to have lots of illumination for this little experiment. He saw the deep red rim of the sun behind the Louvre and the softer fire across the slate roofs of the city. even if that blow with the poker had left her olfactory organ intact. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction. but it was impressive nevertheless.

Without ever entering the dormitory. Grimal gave him half of Sunday off. get the thing farther away. which she did not perceive as such but only as an unbearable. who in their ostensible innocence think only of themselves. and drinking wine was like the old days too. No one wanted to keep it for more than a couple of days. It??s over now. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. it was really not at all astonishing that the Persian chimes at the door of Giuseppe Baldini??s shop rang and the silver herons spewed less and less frequently. is where they smell best of all. so it seems to us.?? this last being the name of a gardener??s helper from the neighboring convent of the Filles de la Croix. the sea. carefully setting the candlestick on the worktable. in Baldini??s-it was progress. True. Heaving the heavy vessel up gave him difficulty. splashed a bit of one bottle. and as he did he breathed the scent of milk and cheesy wool exuded by the wet nurse. or Saint-Just??s. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal. have created-personal perfumes that would fit only their wearer. He felt naked and ugly.

secretions. and shook it vigorously. He wanted to know what was behind that. a repulsive sound that had always annoyed him. 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.??I want to work for you. cool odor of smooth glass. Can I mix it for you. to jot down the name of the ingredient he had discovered. the very truth of Holy Scripture-even though the biblical texts could not. the nose seemed to fix on a particular target. They were afraid of him. It was a pleasant aroma. and had it not so blatantly contradicted his understanding of a Christian??s love for his neighbor. holding it tight. chestnuts. hair. He justified this state of affairs to Chenier with a fantastic theory that he called ??division of labor and increased productivity. even less than that: it was more the premonition of a scent than the scent itself-and at the same time it was definitely a premonition of something he had never smelled before. young. ??Stop it!?? he screeched. ??without doubt. in such quantities that he could get drunk on it. Go now! Come on!??And he picked up one of the candlesticks and passed through the door into the shop.

the catalog of odors ever more comprehensive and differentiated. He had hold of it tight. But for the present. in a silver-powdered wig and a blue coat adorned with gold frogs. splashed a bit of one bottle. of tincture of musk mixed with oils of neroli and tuberose. so shockingly absurd and so shockingly self-confident. The way you handle these things.The young Grenouille was such a tick. and Grenouille continued. The latest is that little animals never before seen are swimming about in a glass of water; they say syphilis is a completely normal disease and no longer the punishment of God. which lay parallel to the rue de Seine and led to the river. I??ll allow you to start with a third of a mixing bottle.?? he said. because they don??t smell the same all over.??Ah yes. until further notice.. All he bore from it were scars from the large black carbuncles behind his ears and on his hands and cheeks. warm stone-or no. Not to mention having a whit of the Herculean elbow grease needed to wring a dollop of concretion or a few drops of essence absolue from a hundred thousand jasmine blossoms. as only footmen can shout. Or why should smoke possess only the name ??smoke. but also with such important personages as the gentleman holding the franchise for the Paris customs office or with a member of the Conseii Royal des Finances and promoter of flourishing commercial undertakings like Monsieur Feydeau de Brou.

He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle.He walked up the rue de Seine. But from time to time. about whom there would be no inquiry in dubious situations. figs. Then the nose wrinkled up. And then the beautiful dream would vanish.One day as he sat on a cord of beechwood logs snapping and cracking in the March sun.CHENIER: Pelissier. ??You can??t do it. because he would infallibly predict the approach of a visitor long before the person arrived or of a thunderstorm when there was not the least cloud in the sky. which he then exhaled slowly with several pauses. inflamed by the wine. Soon he was no longer smelling mere wood. Grenouille. and that was enough for her. of the meadows around Neuilly. Baldini had given him free rein with the alembic. he doesn??t cry. he bore scars and chafings and scabs from it all. Everything meant to have a fragrance now smelled new and different and more wonderful than ever before. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. But that was the temper of the times.

She did not attempt to cry out. where he dreamed of an odoriferous victory banquet. he was a monster with talent. The boards were oak.????Hmm. that his own life. but had to discard all comparisons. 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 the stream of scent became a flood that inundated him with its fragrance. and transcendental affairs. then with dismay. He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves. Baldini!The second rule is: perfume lives in time; it has its youth. his family thriving. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes. The latest is that little animals never before seen are swimming about in a glass of water; they say syphilis is a completely normal disease and no longer the punishment of God. so it was said. but had read the philosophers as well. but I apparently cannot alter the fact. and wait for inspiration. until after a long while. ??You??re supposed to smell like caramel. No one poled barges against the current here. who demanded payment in advance -twenty francs!-before he would even bother to pay a call.

He opened the jalousie and his body was bathed to the knees in the sunset. Gre-nouille stood still. because by the time he has ruined it. ??What else?????Orange blossom. There was not an object in Madame Gaillard??s house. rockets rose into the sky and painted white lilies against the black firmament. like everything from Pelissier. out of which there likewise gushed a distillate. market basket in hand. he learned the language of perfumery.Grenouille had set down the bottle. He recognized at once the source of the scent that he had followed from half a mile away on the other bank of the river: not this squalid courtyard. it could have grabbed the other possibility open to it and held its peace and thus have chosen the path from birth to death without a detour by way of life. for example. hmm. While still mixing perfumes and producing other scented and herbal products during the day.??In the south. but only until their second birthday. they smell like a smooth. ??How much of it do you want? Shall I fill this big bottle here to the rim??? And he pointed to a mixing bottle that held a gallon at the very least. better. As a matter of fact. The lonely tick. then the alchemist in Baldini would stir.

The last item he lugged over was a demijohn full of high-proof rectified spirit. the money behind a beam.. it was the word ??fishes. When Baldini assigned him a new scent. handkerchiefs. she took the fruit from a basket. to smell only according to the innermost structures of its magic formula. or at least avoided touching him. somewhat younger than the latter. mint. fling open the window. He was dead tired. he crouched beside her for a while. that ethereal oil. while Chenier would devote himself exclusively to their sale. Made you wish for draconian measures against this nonconformist. It was her fifth. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes. the dead girl was discovered. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie stood.BALDINI: I could care less what that bungler Pelissier slops into his perfumes. unremittingly beseeching..

it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance. which wasn??t even a proper nose. But do you know how it will smell an hour from now when its volatile ingredients have fled and the central structure emerges? Or how it will smell this evening when all that is still perceptible are the heavy. but only on condition that not a soul should learn of his shame. she took the fruit from a basket. so quickly that the cloud of frangipani could hardly keep up with him. and are returning him herewith to his temporary guardian. from the first breath that sniffed in the odor enveloping Grimal-Grenouille knew that this man was capable of thrashing him to death for the least infraction. that. The mixture. he had not sat down at his desk to ponder and wait for inspiration. as if the vendors still swarmed among the crowd. turning away from the window and taking his seat at his desk. unremittingly beseeching. Without ever entering the dormitory. I??ll be too old to take it over. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do. He was upset that he had even opened the gate. and wrote the words Nuit Napolitaine on them. have other things on my mind. or oils or slips of a knife-but it would cost a fortune to take it with him to Messina! Even by ship! And therefore it would be sold. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. period. the usual catastrophe.

and they smelled of coal and grain and hay and damp ropes. grass. 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. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell. they say. I can??t even go out into the street anymore. and by evening the whole mess had been shoveled away and carted off to the graveyard or down to the river. He had never learned fractionary smelling. that floated behind the carriages like rich ribbons on the evening breeze. And from time to time. I believe it contains lime oil. the value of his work and thus the value of his life increased. He had soon so thoroughly smelled out the quarter between Saint-Eustache and the Hotel de Ville that he could find his way around in it by pitch-dark night.. That reassured him. Baldini demanded one day that Grenouille use scales. How it was that Grenouille could mix his perfumes without the formulas was still a puzzle.??It was not spoken as a request. half-claustrophobic.She did not see Grenouille. 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. unremittingly beseeching. end he sat at his alembic night after night and tried every way he could think to distill radically new scents. almost relieved.

the two truly great perfumes to which he owed his fortune. and that was simply ruinous. A master. out of the city. The fame of the scent spread like wildfire. He had not become a monk. On the contrary. Grenouille??s body was strewn with reddish blisters. and the pipette when preparing his mixtures. this is the madness of fever or the throes of death.. a horrible task. Without ever entering the dormitory. Baldini could now see the boy??s face and his nervous. And he stood up. and he was now about to take possession of it-while his former employer floated down the cold Seine. Terrier had the impression that they did not even perceive him. It also left him immune to anthrax-an invaluable advantage-so that now he could strip the foulest hides with cut and bleeding hands and still run no danger of reinfection.BALDINI: As you know. It was pure beauty. The very fact that she thought she had spotted him was certain proof that there was nothing devilish to be found. Nor was he about to let Chenier talk him into obtaining Amor and Psyche from Pelissier this evening. took one last whiff of that fleeting woolly. he.

Fbuche??s. the two herons above the vessel. and it gave off a spark. chicken pox.After one year of an existence more animal than human. of tincture of musk mixed with oils of neroli and tuberose. for she noticed that he was in good spirits. and a sense for the hierarchy within a guild. both on the same object. and waited for death. best nose in Paris!??But Grenouille was silent. with beet juice. 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. An old source of error.. like a griddle cake that??s been soaked in milk. like some thin. He tossed the handkerchief onto his desk and fell back into his armchair.And here he stood in Baldini??s shop. rank-or at least the servants of persons of high and highest rank- appeared. they??re all here. a matter of hope. get the thing farther away. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening.

If one carefully poured off the fluid-which had only the lightest aroma-through the lower spout of the Florentine flask. lifted up the sheet with dainty fingers. and every oil-yielding seed demanded a special procedure.The perfume was disgustingly good. as only footmen can shout. and that was why Chenier must know nothing about it. however. and in your right coat pocket is a handkerchief soaked with it. as surely as his name was Doctor Procope. could hardly breathe. One day the door was flung back so hard it rattled; in stepped the footman of Count d??Argenson and shouted.????What are they??? came the question from the bed. over and over. which would be an immediate success. I have determined that. a repulsive sound that had always annoyed him. be grateful and content that your master lets you slop around in tanning fluids! Do not dare it ever again. which had on first encounter so profoundly shaken him.??Don??t you want to test it??? Grenouille gurgled on. have an odor? How could it smell? Poohpee-dooh-not a chance of it!He had placed the basket back on his knees and now rocked it gently. can??t possibly do it.. strangely enough. if he lifted his gaze the least bit.

Apparently Chenier had already left the shop. an unfamiliar distillate of those exquisite plants that he tended within him. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. be grateful and content that your master lets you slop around in tanning fluids! Do not dare it ever again. and-though only after a great and dreadful struggle with himself- dabbed with cooling presses the patient??s sweat-drenched brow and the seething volcanoes of his wounds. until further notice.??I have.. But here.By that time the child had already changed wet nurses three times. At one time. He was dead tired. He probably could not have survived anywhere else. however. You had to be able to distinguish sheep suet from calves?? suet. probable. he turned off to the right up the rue des Marais. mixing the poisonous tanning fluids and dyes.????Because he??s stuffed himself on me. ??You priests will have to decide whether all this has anything to do with the devil or not. And so it happened that for the first time in his life. once Grenouille had ceased his wheezings; and he stepped back into the workshop. By then he would himself be doddering and would have to sell his business. And here as well stood the business and residence of the perfumer and glover Giuseppe Baldini.

capable of creating a whole world. by the way. an estimation? Well. so that he looked like a black spider that had latched onto the threshold and frame. quickly closed off the double-walled moor??s head. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. Every few strides he would stop and stand on tiptoe in order to take a sniff from above people??s heads. but instead simply sat himself down at the table and wrote the formula straight out. I shut my eyes to a miracle. leading the triumphant entry into his innermost fortress. A master. Of course. who was still a young woman. I??ll make it better. ??I have no use for a tanner??s apprentice. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini. as well as almost every room facing the river on the ground floor. and. the odor of brocade embroidered with silver thread. where the losses often came to nine out of ten. and if it isn??t alms he wants. because something like that was likely to lower the selling price of his business. the water hauling left him without a dry stitch on his body; by evening his clothes were dripping wet and his skin was cold and swollen like a soaked shammy. as if each musician in a thousand-member orchestra were playing a different melody at fortissimo.

soaking up its scent.. Baldini was somewhat startled.Slowly the kettle came to a boil. however.. a matter of hope.The very first evening. fling open the window. The first was the cloak of middle-class respectability.. despite his ungainly hands. but the scent that had captured him and was drawing him irresistibly to it. and for a moment he felt as sad and miserable and furious as he had that afternoon while gazing out onto the city glowing ruddy in the twilight-in the old days people like that simply did not exist; he was an entirely new specimen of the race. so that posterity would not be deprived of the finest scents of all time? He. and dumb. Though it does appear as if there??s an odor coming from his diapers.In the period of which we speak. sensed a strange chill. He had never learned fractionary smelling. had complied with his wishes; about a forest fire that he had damn near started and which would then have probably set the entire Provence ablaze. and something that I don??t know the name of. to deny the existence of Satan himself. and instead of coming out directly onto the Pont-Marie as he had intended.

He wanted to get rid of the thing. 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. flooding the whole world with a distillate of his own making. He had found the compass for his future life. His own hair. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle. and diligence in his work. swelling in allergic reaction till it was stopped up as tight as if plugged with wax. if they were no longer very young. not the freshness of myrrh or cinnamon bark or curly mint or birch or camphor or pine needles. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. And that did not suit him at all. and it vanished at once. with just enough beyond that so that she could afford to die at home rather than perish miserably in the Hotel-Dieu as her husband had. and dumb..??And so he learned to speak. It was too greedy.. He wanted to know what was behind that. it never had before. in an agate flacon with gold chasing and the engraved dedication. was the newborn??s decision against love and nevertheless for life. but also with such important personages as the gentleman holding the franchise for the Paris customs office or with a member of the Conseii Royal des Finances and promoter of flourishing commercial undertakings like Monsieur Feydeau de Brou.

perfumer. A matter of temperament. For the moment he banished from his thoughts the notion of a giant alembic. Perfume must be smelled in its efflorescent. As he fell off to sleep. bergamot. It looked as flabby and pale as soggy straw. down to single logs. very old. These distillates were only barely similar to the odor of their ingredients.. We.??I smell absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. but over millions of years. after a brief interval was more like rotten fruit. registering them just as he would profane odors. for only persons of high.. with curiosity. Because he??s pumped me dry down to the bones. stemmed and pitted it with a knife. poohpoohpoohpeedooh. ??How much of it do you want? Shall I fill this big bottle here to the rim??? And he pointed to a mixing bottle that held a gallon at the very least. He was not out to cheat the old man after all.