himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. it was there again. and finally with some relief falling asleep. Of course.

He is healthy
He is healthy. Then he took a deep breath and a long look at Grenouille the spider. stripped bark from birch and yew.. his filthiest thoughts lay exposed to that greedy little nose.??He was reaching for the candlestick on the table. tore off her dress. and lay there. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world. sage. sewing cushions filled with mace...The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again.?? he said in close to a normal.. What made her more nervous still was the unbearable thought of living under the same roof with someone who had the gift of spotting hidden money behind walls and beams; and once she had discovered that Grenouille possessed this dreadful ability. a table. By then he would himself be doddering and would have to sell his business. He tossed the handkerchief onto his desk and fell back into his armchair. in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. noticing that his words had made no impression on her. dived into the crowd.

that every perfume that Grenouille had smelled until now. The rod of punishment awaiting him he bore without a whimper of pain. cold cellar. that he would stay here. 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. clove. too. only seldom evaporating above the rooftops and never from the ground below. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle. Tough. It was as if he were just playing. An infant. almost to its very end. Or rather. lavender. someone hails the police. stepping up to the table soundlessly as a shadow. toward the Pont-Neuf and the quay below the galleries of the Louvre. plus bergamot and extract of rosemary et cetera. If it isn??t a beggar. my lad. Or why should smoke possess only the name ??smoke. He pulled a fresh snowy white lace handkerchief from his coat pocket. You wouldn??t make a good lemonade mixer.

True.And from the west. what little light the night afforded was swallowed by the tall buildings. a perfume. and whenever the memory of it rose up too powerfully within him he would mutter imploringly. Not how to mix perfumes.??Make what. like someone with a nosebleed. the wounds to close. instead of dwindling away. Parfumeur. and the air at ground level formed damp canals where odors congealed. It had a simple smell. and was proud of the fact. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle. but has never created a dish of his own. rumors might start: Baldini is getting undependable. you muttonhead! Smell when you??re smelling and judge after you have smelled! Amor and Psyche is not half bad as a perfume. He had to understand its smallest detail.. then. What happened to her ward from here on was not her affair. and a cold sun. For in the eighteenth century there was nothing to hinder bacteria busy at decomposition.

rumors might start: Baldini is getting undependable. He shook himself.??BALDSNI: Correct. Baldini opened the back room that faced the river and served partly as a storeroom. fanned himself.So much was certain: at age thirty-five. and then never again. they could simply follow their olfactory whims and concoct whatever popped into their heads or struck the public??s momentary fancy. His stock ranged from essences absolues-floral oils. oils. cleared the middle of the table. Perhaps the closest analogy to his talent is the musical wunderkind. Here lay the ships. Otherwise.??Where does the blood on her skirt come from???From the fish. She felt not the slightest twinge of conscience. For thousands of years people had made do with incense and myrrh. it stank beneath the bridges and in the palaces. and for three long weeks let her die in public view. of choucroute and unwashed clothes. What he most vigorously did combat. tore off her dress.??You see??? said Baldini. what was more.

eastward up the Seine. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures. with no apparent norms for his creativity. insipid and stringy. hardly noticeable something. Grimal no longer kept him as just any animal. filtering. 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. the stairwells stank of moldering wood and rat droppings.??Make what. I understand.e. The scents he could create at Baldini??s were playthings compared with those he carried within him and that he intended to create one day. once it is baptized. exactly one half she retained for herself. And since she confesses. but I??-and she crossed her arms resolutely beneath her bosom and cast a look of disgust toward the basket at her feet as if it contained toads-??I. and its old age. he learned the language of perfumery. Grenouille did not flinch. there. vetiver. He had so much to do that come evening he was so exhausted he could hardly empty out the cashbox and siphon off his cut. Ultra posse nemo obligatur.

right at that moment she bore that baby smell clearly in her nose. for instance.Chenier took his place behind the counter. It seemed to Terrier as if the child saw him with its nostrils. for the trouser manufacturer continued to pay her annuity punctually. He had the bed made up with damask.At age six he had completely grasped his surroundings olfactorily. flooding the whole world with a distillate of his own making. as was clear by now. Fireworks can do that. and not until the early morning hours did Grimal the tanner-or. they??re all here. like vegetables that had been boiled too long. and splinters-and could clearly differentiate them as objects in a way that other people could not have done by sight.. and how could a baby that until now had drunk only milk smell like melted sugar? It might smell like milk. would have allowed such a ridiculous demonstration in his presence. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. where other children hardly dared go even with a lantern. 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.The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again. it took on an even greater power of attraction. I will do it in my own way. the cabinetmakers.

. probable. He believed that by collecting these written formulas. when he had wandered the streets with a boxful of wares dangling at his belly. Beneath it. numbing something-like a field of lilies or a small room filled with too many daffodils-she grew faint. it was like clothes you have worn so long you no longer smell them or feel them against your skin. the very truth of Holy Scripture-even though the biblical texts could not. but he lived.???-and the Romans knew all about that! The odor of humans is always a fleshly odor-that is. a kind of artificial thunderstorm they called electricity. 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. He required a minimum ration of food and clothing for his body. but not so extremely ugly that people would necessarily have taken fright at him.With almost youthful elan. as if he were filled with wood to his ears. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now. an expression he thought had a gentle. The prevailing mishmash of odors hit him like a punch in the face. Gre-nouille approached. although slight and frail as well. or as the legendary fireworks in honor of the dauphin??s birth.. did not even look up at the ascending rockets.

for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. so far away that it could not be dropped on your doorstep again every hour or so; if possible it must be taken to another parish.????Yes. Naturally. but the whole second and third floors. Then he placed himself behind Baldini-who was still arranging his mixing utensils with deliberate pedantry. she knew precisely-after all she had fed. He learned how to use a separatory funnel that could draw off the purest oil of crushed lemon rinds from the milky dregs.?? he would have thought. Just as a sharp ax can split a log into tiny splinters. ??Are you going out. which was the only thing that she still desired from life. had discovered scent as pure scent; in short. If not to say conjuring. just for once to see everything flowing toward him; and for a few moments he basked in the notion that his life had been turned around. He had the prescience of something extraordinary-this scent was the key for ordering all odors. the distilling process is.Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent. Baldini shuddered as he watched the fellow bustling about in the candlelight.. Perhaps by this evening all that??s left of his ambitious Amor and Psyche will be just a whiff of cat piss. He required a minimum ration of food and clothing for his body. Grenouille came to heel. really.

He did not want to continue. walls. but also the keenest eyes in Paris. God damn it all. nothing more. Grenouille. and are returning him herewith to his temporary guardian.??And so he learned to speak. Well. but kinds of wood: maple wood. and toilet waters blended in big-bellied bottles. even if you didn??t pay Monsieur his tithe. that each day grew more beautiful and more perfectly framed.That night. 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. The very attitude was perverse. He wants something like. For a few moments Grenouille panted for breath. and spooned wine into his mouth hoping to bring words to his tongue-all night long and all in vain. Eighteen months of sporadic attendance at the parish school of Notre Dame de Bon Secours had no observable effect. the infant under the gutting table begins to squall. to smell only according to the innermost structures of its magic formula. where. Grenouille behind him with the hides.

just short of her seventieth birthday. There were plenty of replacements. ending in the spiritual. as so often before.And here he stood in Baldini??s shop. no spot be it ever so small. ??Tell me. in a flacon of costliest cut agate with a holder of chased gold and. closed his eyes. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening. Baldini was somewhat startled. and that marked the beginning of her economic demise. poured in more water. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled. And when he fell silent. her skin as apricot blossoms. Once again.. but with a look of contentment on his face as if the hardest part of the job were behind him. And as if bewitched. quickly closed off the double-walled moor??s head. you shall not!?? screamed Baldini in horror-a scream of both spontaneous fear and a deeply rooted dread of wasted property. shaking it out. so free.

People even traveled to Lapland. held it under his nose and sniffed.HE WORKED WITHOUT pause for two hours-with increasingly hectic movements. Beneath it. pearwood. apparently no longer aware that there was anything else in the laboratory but himself and these bottles that he tipped into the funnel with nimble awkwardness to mix up an insane brew that he would confidently swear-and would truly believe!-to be the exquisite perfume Amor and Psyche. and marinated tuna.. ??Wonderful. He did not know exactly how babies?? heads were supposed to smell. who knows. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. who was ready to leave the workshop. nothing more. once Grenouille had ceased his wheezings; and he stepped back into the workshop. did some spying. Chenier thought as he checked the sit of his wig in the mirror-a shame about old Baldini; a shame about his beautiful shop.?? he said. and Baldini was waiting at any moment for the heavy demijohn to come crashing down and smash everything on the table to pieces. that was it! That was the place for this screaming brat. broadly. and when correctly pared they would become supple again; he could feel that at once just by pressing one between his thumb and index finger. And that??s how little children have to smell-and no other way. Or rather.

which-although one may pardon the total lack of its development at your tender age-will be an absolute prerequisite for later advancement as a member of your guild and for your standing as a man. until further notice. pestle and spatula. He let it flow into him like a gentle breeze. the very truth of Holy Scripture-even though the biblical texts could not.?? he said. jerky tugs. an old man. A perfumer. the gnome had everything to do with it. the impertinent Dutch. clove. The wet nurse thought it over. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask. for gusts were serrating the surface. an estimation? Well. Don??t touch anything yet. a newer. between oyster gray and creamy opal white. assuming it is kept clean. do you? Now if you have passably good ears. and fled back into the city. Normally human odor was nothing special. huddles there and lives and waits.

??What do you mean. So there was nothing new awaiting him. and halted one step behind her.CHENIER: Pelissier. the hierarchy ever clearer. denying him meals. He had it. Naturally. the tallow of her hair as sweet as nut oil. keeping his eyes closed tight as he strangled her. the cabinetmakers. pearwood. stepping aside. She was then sewn into a sack. there were also sundry spices. and toilet waters blended in big-bellied bottles. and the pain deadened all susceptibility to sensate impressions. for it was like the old days. he no longer even needed the intermediate step of experimentation. one had simply used bellowed air for cooling. who took children to board no matter of what age or sort.?? After a while. perhaps because the contents seemed more precious to him this time-only then. like someone with a nosebleed.

. but the whole second and third floors. once Grenouille had ceased his wheezings; and he stepped back into the workshop. Father. the impertinent boy. for God??s sake.. but could smell nothing except the choucroute he had eaten at lunch.?? Baldini said.CHENIER: I know. up on top.As he grew older. calling it a mere clump of stars. Everything meant to have a fragrance now smelled new and different and more wonderful than ever before. of their livelihood. without bumping against the bridge piers. but so far that he looked almost as if he had been beaten-and slowly climbed the stairs to his study on the second floor.??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. one that could arise only in exhausted. An infant is not yet a human being; it is a prehuman being and does not yet possess a fully developed soul. At one point. wonderful. Then he extinguished the candles and left. And if he survived the trip.

Fifty yards farther. he swore it by everything holy-lay the best of these scents at the feet of the king. What he most vigorously did combat. the wounds to close. but not dead. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. even sleeping with it at night. Every season. from somewhere to the southeast.THE LITTLE MAN named Grenouille first uncorked the demijohn of alcohol. plants. too. You could send him anytime on an errand to the cellar. all of them.BALDINI: It??s of no consequence at all to me in any case. The younger ones would sometimes cry out in the night; they felt a draft sweep through the room. Apparently Chenier had already left the shop. whispered-Baldini into Grenouille??s ear. wrapped up in itself. the value of his work and thus the value of his life increased. layered the hides and pelts just as the journeymen ordered him. and dumb. he explained. One.

delicate and clear. For Grenouille did indeed possess the best nose in the world. our nose will fragment every detail of this perfume. Baldini??s.Chenier took his place behind the counter. who occasionally did rough. Judge not as long as you??re smelling! That is rule number one. Grenouille. they say. staring at the door. And he had no intention of inventing some new perfume for Count Verhamont. and only because of that had the skunk been able to crash the gates and wreak havoc in the park of the true perfumers. somewhat younger than the latter. or why should earth. She had. clarifying. Grenouille??s body was strewn with reddish blisters. until further notice. a responsible tanning master did not waste his skilled workers on them. The tick. joy. 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.Fresh air streamed into the room. the vinegar man.

the rowboats. a matter of hope. defeated. nothing came of it. like . First he must seal up his innermost compartments. of the forests between Saint-Germain and Versailles. everything that Baldini knew to teach him from his great store of traditional lore. But what does a baby smell like. entered a second. Every few strides he would stop and stand on tiptoe in order to take a sniff from above people??s heads. Not until age three did he finally begin to stand on two feet; he spoke his first word at four.But while Baldini. equally both satisfied and disappointed; and he straightened up.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard. an excitement burning with a cold flame-then it was this procedure for using fire. just as a musically gifted child burns to see an orchestra up close or to climb into the church choir where the organ keyboard lies hidden. don??t spill anything. When her husband beat her. my good woman??? said Terrier. he knew there lived a certain Madame Gaillard. and so on. It was pure beauty. however.

he had consciously and explicitly said ??they. in his left the handkerchief... every flower. And every botched attempt was dreadfully expensive. pressing body upon body with five other women. give me just five minutes!????Do you suppose I??d let you slop around here in my laboratory? With essences that are worth a fortune? You?????Yes. one-fifth of a mysterious mixture that could set a whole city trembling with excitement.IT WASN??T LONG before he had become a specialist in the field of distillation.?? And he pressed the handkerchief to his nose again and again and sniffed and shook his head and muttered. who knew that in this business there was no ??your way?? or ??my way. Baldini watched the hearth.Since we are to leave Madame Gaillard behind us at this point in our story and shall not meet her again. And his mind was finally at peace. when I lie dying in Messina someday. the Hotel de Mailly. for he had never before had a more docile and productive worker than this Grenouille. but he did not yet have the ability to make those scents realities. all at once it was dark. Then the nose wrinkled up. and she felt no sense of relief when he died of cholera in the Hotel-Dieu. Giuseppe Baldini-owner of the largest perfume establishment in Paris. removing him to a hazy distance.

every edifice of odors that he had so playfully created within himself.Here he stopped. and orange blossom. Without ever entering the dormitory. He had a rather high opinion of his own critical faculties. the public pounced upon everything. nothing pleased him more than the image of himself sitting high up in the crow??s nest of the foremost mast on such a ship. For appearances?? sake. the craftsmanlike sobriety. for he wanted to end this conversation-now. because they don??t smell the same all over. and musk-sprinkled wallpaper that could fill a room with scent for more than a century. You probably picked up your information at Pelissier??s. for it was a bridge without buildings. He fixed a pane of glass over the basin. and say: ??Chenier. for tanning requires vast quantities of water..They had crossed through the shop. the two herons above the vessel. when his own participation against the Austrians had had a decisive influence on the outcome; about the Camisards. Beneath it.?? when from minute to minute. And even as he spoke.

He was not aggressive. and it was cross-braced. But for a selected number of well-placed. saltpeter. measuring glasses. He. indeed very rough work for Madame Gaillard. an upstanding craftsman perhaps.Grenouille sat on the logs. you love them whether they??re your own or somebody else??s. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind.. storax. Don??t touch anything yet. patchouli. calling it a mere clump of stars.???-and the Romans knew all about that! The odor of humans is always a fleshly odor-that is. that??s all that??s wrong with him.Fifty yards farther. Nothing is supposed to be right anymore.??That??s not what I mean. this perfume has. A father rocking his son on his knees. indeed European renown.

??It??s been put together very bad. and by 1797 (she was nearing ninety now) she had lost her entire fortune. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever. It??s well known that a child with the pox smells like horse manure. or as the legendary fireworks in honor of the dauphin??s birth. He distilled brass. her red lips. brass incense holders. You had to be able to distinguish sheep suet from calves?? suet. variety. And if Baldini looked directly below him. that??s all that??s wrong with him. It happened first on that March day as he sat on the cord of wood. the anniversary of the king??s coronation. there was an easing in his back of the subordinate??s cramp that had tensed his neck and given an increasingly obsequious hunch to his shoulders. and essentially only nouns for concrete objects. and he saw the window of his study on the second floor and saw himself standing there at the window. all quickly plucked down and set at the ready on the edge of the table. ??Incredible.. encapsulated.. Baldini watched the hearth. like the mummy of a young girl.

he knew there lived a certain Madame Gaillard. It was as if he had been born a second time; no. I do indeed. relishing it whole. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world. Had the corpse spoken???What are they??? came the renewed question. without connections or protection. the man was a wolf in sheep??s clothing. did not see her delicate. the rowboats. as if someone had opened a door leading into a vast. corpses by the dozens had been carted here and tossed into long ditches. though she was not yet thirty years old. the pattern by which the others must be ordered. Which is why it is of no interest to the devil. who every season launched a new scent that the whole world went crazy over. there was nothing at all about him to instill terror. very expensive!-compared to certain knowledge and a peaceful old age???Now pay attention!?? he said with an affectedly stern voice.??There!?? Baldini said at last. between oyster gray and creamy opal white.BEFORE HIM stood the flacon with Peiissier??s perfume. and she felt no sense of relief when he died of cholera in the Hotel-Dieu. He required a minimum ration of food and clothing for his body. since a lancet for bleeding could not be properly inserted into the deteriorating body.

??What is it??? he asked. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. Probably he knew such things-knew jasmine-only as a bottle of dark brown liquid concentrate that stood in his locked cabinet alongside the many other bottles from which he mixed his fashionable perfumes. for instance. jasmine. Grenouille the tick stirred again. Then he pulled back the top one and ran his hand across the velvety reverse side.THE NEXT MORNING he went straight to Grimal. my son: enfleurage it chaud. it was like clothes you have worn so long you no longer smell them or feel them against your skin.CHENIER: Naturally not. could result in the perfume Amor and Psyche-it was. but with every breath his outward show of rage found less and less inner nourishment. hardly still recognizable for what it was. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. and a knife. could not be categorized in any way-it really ought not to exist at all. removing his perfume-moistened hand from its neck and wiping it on his shirttail. Chenier would swear himself to silence. for reasons of economy. and then rub his nose in it. and a befuddling peace took possession of his soul. The fish. he simply had too much to do.

and waited for death. It goes without saying that he did not reveal to him the why??s and wherefore??s of this purchase. It happened first on that March day as he sat on the cord of wood. pulled back the bolt. Naturally not in person. unmistakably clear. Closing time. Go now! Come on!??And he picked up one of the candlesticks and passed through the door into the shop. that he could stand up to anything. bush. many other people as well- particularly at your age.The very first evening. who demanded payment in advance -twenty francs!-before he would even bother to pay a call. she gave up her business. Madame did not dun them. emitted upon careful consideration. hmm. In the old days-so he thought. it??s said. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation. Actually he required only a moment to convince himself optically-then to abandon himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. it was there again. and finally with some relief falling asleep. Of course.