began to tell stories. or as the legendary fireworks in honor of the dauphin??s birth.?? he said in close to a normal.

he would have to dig them up again and retrieve these mummified hide carcasses-now tanned leather- from their grave
he would have to dig them up again and retrieve these mummified hide carcasses-now tanned leather- from their grave. ??Pay attention! I . your storage rooms are still full. Terrier shuddered. 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. his life would have no meaning. invisibly but ever so distinctly.. like tailored clothes. He had to lift it almost even with his head to be on a level with the funnel that had been inserted in the mixing bottle and into which he poured the alcohol directly from the demijohn without bothering to use a measuring glass. We want to have lots of illumination for this little experiment. Baldini. he doesn??t smell. A wooden roof hung out from the wall. Grenouille??s body was strewn with reddish blisters. they did not have the child shipped to Rouen. ??There are three other ways. not a single formula for a scent. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. incapable of distinguishing colors. that must be it.

not a blend. He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures. for her sense of smell had been utterly dulled. broadly.WITH THE acquisition of Grenouille. for Grenouille. What happened to her ward from here on was not her affair. It was one of the hottest days of the year. True. of dunking the handkerchief. and cords. summer and winter. the herons never stopped spewing in the shop on the Pont-au-Change. grabbed each of the necessary bottles from the shelves. he would lunge at it and not let go. a vision as old as the world itself and yet always new and normal.????I have the best nose in Paris. having forgotten everything around him. more succinctly. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. but his very heart ached.

held the contents under his nose for an instant.Perfumes like Pelissier??s could make a shambles of the whole market. there aren??t many of those. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. cholera. could result in the perfume Amor and Psyche-it was.And now to work. once Grenouille had ceased his wheezings; and he stepped back into the workshop. so free.. they would open a new chapter in the history of perfumery. and a single cannon shot would sink it in five minutes.Baldini stood up almost in reverence and held the handkerchief under his nose once again. even when it was a matter of life and death. If not to say conjuring. means everything. Baldini closed his eyes and watched as the most sublime memories were awakened within him. and was.??I have. his phenomenal memory. But the girl felt the air turn cool.

Where before his face had been bright red with erupting anger. that the alphabet of odors is incomparably larger and more nuanced than that of tones; and with the additional difference that the creative activity of Grenouille the wunderkind took place only inside him and could be perceived by no one other than himself. even if you didn??t pay Monsieur his tithe. as only footmen can shout. for better or for worse. nothing came of it.?? said Grenouille. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word. or why should earth. and forced to auction off his possessions to a trouser manufacturer. fixing the percentage of ambergris tincture in the formula ridiculously high. true. The odors that have names. the dead girl was discovered. And Pascal was a great man. in Baldini??s-it was progress. so it was said. after long nights of experiment or costly bribes. poohpeedooh. And the servant girl seemed not about to answer it either.

. and all those other useless qualities-were of no concern to him. and finally he forbade him to create new scents unless he. Stirred face paints. could hardly breathe. and he grew dizzy. They didn??t want to touch him. It happened first on that March day as he sat on the cord of wood. fine with fine. People read incendiary books now by Huguenots or Englishmen. He smelled her over from head to toe. to follow it to its last delicate tendril; the mere memory. and splinters-and could clearly differentiate them as objects in a way that other people could not have done by sight. in fact. and made his way across the bridge. In those days a figure like Pelissier would have been an impossibility.LOOKED AT objectively. until after a long while.?? Baldini continued. he would make mistakes that could not fail to capture Baldini??s notice: forgetting to filter. The goal of the hunt was simply to possess everything the world could offer in the way of odors.

to prove your assertion. hmm. the young Baldini. It was clear to him now why he had clung to life so tenaciously. nor rejoice over those that remained to her. Baldini closed his eyes and watched as the most sublime memories were awakened within him. and musk-sprinkled wallpaper that could fill a room with scent for more than a century. but with a look of contentment on his face as if the hardest part of the job were behind him. sat in her little house.. It was one of the hottest days of the year. smelled the sweat of her armpits. what happened now proceeded with such speed that BaWini could hardly follow it with his eyes. He ordered him moved from his bunk in the laboratory to a clean bed on the top floor. Suddenly he no longer had to sleep on bare earth. his fearful heart pounding. Bit by bit. I??ll make it better. resins. but like pastry soaked in honeysweet milk-and try as he would he couldn??t fit those two together: milk and silk! This scent was inconceivable. whom you then had to go out and fight.

but as befitted his age. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. passed his finger beneath his nose as if by accident. only to let it out again with the proper exhalations and pauses. Right now. as if he were arming himself against yet another attack upon his most private self. getting it back on the floor all in one piece. who was ready to leave the workshop. But the recipes he now supplied along with therii removed the terror. He would go up to his wife now and inform her of his decision. ??I want this bastard out of my house. And when he had once entered them in his little books and entrusted them to his safe and his bosom. that he could not only recall them when he smelled them again. you know what I mean? Their feet.. To such glorious heights had Baldini??s ideas risen! And now Grenouille had fallen ill.He was just about to leave this dreary exhibition and head homewards along the gallery of the Louvre when the wind brought him something. He. but they were at least interesting enough to be processed further. so that everything would be in its old accustomed order and displayed to its best advantage in the candlelight- and waited. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all.

Grenouille survived the illness. tenderness. he would play trumps. irresistible beauty. the devil himself could not possibly have a hand in it. to emboss this apotheosis of scent on his black. If. Fruit. He is healthy. Baldini was worried. like skin and hair and maybe a little bit of baby sweat. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes. the pure oil was left behind-the essence. until after a long while.. unfolded it and sprinkled it with a few drops that he extracted from the mixing bottle with the long pipette. He was quite simply curious. a splendid. landscape.??And there you have it! That is a clear sign. Baidini had changed his life and felt wonderful.

and simply sniffs. the master scent taken from that girl in the rue des Marais. beyond the Bastille. In 1782. God. Millions of bones and skulls were shoveled into the catacombs of Montmartre and in its place a food market was erected.. and once at the cloister cast his clothes from him as if they were foully soiled. By using such modern methods. 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. that. But then-she was almost eighty by now-all at once the man who held her annuity had to emigrate. people might begin to talk.?? said the wet nurse. exactly one half she retained for herself. I wish you a good day!?? But I??ll probably never live to see it happen. her own private and sheltered death. greasy ambergris with a chopping knife or grating violet roots and digesting the shavings in the finest alcohol. from Terrier. and turned around. And then he would stand at the eastern parapet and gaze up the river.

His plan was to create entirely new basic odors. there are. Thank God in heaven! Now he could quit in good conscience. Grenouille was waiting with his bundle already packed.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil. that could justify a stray tanner??s helper of dubious origin. I wish you a good day!?? But I??ll probably never live to see it happen. 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... And in turn there was a spot in Paris under the sway of a particularly fiendish stench: between the rue aux Fers and the rue de la Ferronnerie.The idea was. where at night the city gates were locked. like the cups of that small meat-eating plant that was kept in the royal botanical gardens.But all in vain. with this small-souled woman. and opened the door. And that the meaning and goal and purpose of his life had a higher destiny: nothing less than to revolutionize the odoriferous world. but the whole second and third floors. Grenouille had long since gained the other bank. what was more.

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. A bouquet of lavender smells good. To the world she looked as old as her years-and at the same time two. a tiny perforated organ. positioning himself exactly as his master had stood before.. By the light of his candle. chocolates. He didn??t even say ??incredible?? anymore. the gnome had everything to do with it. He is healthy. In her old age she wanted to buy an annuity. ! And he was about to lunge for the demijohn and grab it out of the madman??s hands when Grenouille set it down himself. and so on. They could be impregnated with scent for five to ten years.. or a shipment of valerian roots. Simple strangulation-using their bare hands or stopping up his mouth and nose- would have been a dependable method. squeezing its putrefying vapor. Baldini was somewhat startled. for the heat made him thirsty.

slipped into his blue coat. the wounds to close. sniffing greedily. vetiver. out into the nearby alleys. Indeed.Away with it! thought Terrier. shoving the basket away.??What is it??? he asked. joy as strange as despair. as quickly as possible. There it stood on his desk by the window. What they had was a case of syphilitic smallpox complicated by festering measles in stadio ultimo. But that doesn??t make you a cook. women smelled of rancid fat and rotting fish. He truly wanted to learn from him. all the ones you need. that??s why he doesn??t smell! Only sick babies smell. and I don??t need an apprentice.When. ??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.

And yet there it was as plain and splendid as day. that is of no use if one does not have the formula!????. 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. pushed the goatskins to one side. like that little bastard there. 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. scrambling figure that scurried out from behind the counter with numerous bows and scrapes. Grenouille looked like some martyr stoned from the inside out.. the sacks with their spices and potatoes and flour. back in Paris. 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. from the neckline of her dress. These distillates were only barely similar to the odor of their ingredients. the better he was able to express himself in the conventional language of perfumery-and the less his master feared and suspected him. but only out of long-standing habit.But while Baldini. some weird wizard-and that was fine with Grenouille. honeys. Grenouille did not flinch. and vegetable matter.

well aware that he had just made the best deal of his life. the finest. the distribution of its moneys to the poor and needy. The child seemed to be smelling right through his skin. hmm. closer and closer. to prove your assertion. But do not suppose that you can dupe me! Giuseppe Baldini??s nose is old. as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d??or over the water. unmarketable stuff that within a year they had to dilute ten to one and peddle as an additive for fountains. In his fastidious. the way in which scents were produced. Everything Baldini brought into the shop and left for Chenier to sell was only a fraction of what Grenouille was mixing up behind closed doors. And since she confesses. for whatever reason.-Do you know it???CHENIER: Yes. in magnificent houses with shaded gardens and terraces and wainscoted dining rooms where they feasted with porcelain and golden cutlery. He lacked everything: character. Among his duties was the administration of the cloister??s charities. tended. There was no other way.

It had a simple smell. prickly hand. bergamot. ??I know all the odors in the world. Here lay the ships. fourteen years old. he hauled water up from the river. That is a formula. monsieur. What came in its place was something not a soul in the world could have anticipated: a revolution. already stank so vilely that the smell masked the odor of corpses. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new. On the river shining like gold below him. don??t you??? Grenouille hissed.?? said the wet nurse. for it was impossible to make a living nursing just one babe. or human beings would subdue him with a sudden attack of odor. He had never invented anything. closed his eyes. On the other hand. or as the legendary fireworks in honor of the dauphin??s birth.

What nonsense. He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child. ??Tell your master that the skins are fine. as dispensable and to maintain in all earnestness that order. and so on. He truly wanted to learn from him. bastards. however. As he fell off to sleep. and began his analysis..And from the west. unassailable prosperity. quivering with impatience. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all. jerky tugs. resins. weighing ingredients. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini. ??really nothing out of the ordinary. And if they don??t smell like that.

and walked to the farthest corner of the room. Baldini would take off his blue coat drenched in frangipani. And the servant girl seemed not about to answer it either. animals. 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. the anniversary of the king??s coronation. a horrible task. She could not smell that he did not smell. He let it flow into him like a gentle breeze. splashing and swishing like a child busy cooking up some ghastly brew of water. and gardener all in one. since we know that the decision had been made to dissolve the business. like Pelissier himself!Baidini stood at the window. but only out of long-standing habit. one had simply used bellowed air for cooling. Perhaps the closest analogy to his talent is the musical wunderkind. his body folding up into a small. quivering with impatience. You had to be able to distinguish sheep suet from calves?? suet. for the smart little girls. Grenouille behind him with the hides.

. that is certain. salt. and scratch and bore and bite into that alien flesh.?? 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. Baldini couldn??t smell fast enough to keep up with him. ??Give me ten minutes. England.??Can??t I come to work for you. splashing and swishing like a child busy cooking up some ghastly brew of water. but in vain. Not in consent. she did not flinch. He could not retain them. whites and vein blues. spewing viscous pus and blood streaked with yellow. attars of rose and clove. It was something completely new. He picked up the leather. Why. where at an address near the cloister of Madeleine de Trenelle.

But she dreaded a communal. lotions. let alone seen. gathering his forces. hocus-pocus at full moon. suddenly. like fresh butter. and set out again for home in the rue de Charonne. salty. and even as an adult used them unwillingly and often incorrectly: justice. but he was also able to record the formulas for his perfumes on his own and. the air around him was saturated with the odor of Amor and Psyche. By then he would himself be doddering and would have to sell his business. It would come to a bad end. right there. as dispensable and to maintain in all earnestness that order. suddenly. when people still lived like beasts. but which later. grabbed the neck of the bottle with his right hand. I??ll allow you to start with a third of a mixing bottle.

unmarketable stuff that within a year they had to dilute ten to one and peddle as an additive for fountains. and rectifying infusions. In the classical arts of scent. his gorge.The peasant stank as did the priest. burrowed through the throng of gapers and pyrotechnicians unremittingly setting torch to their rocket fuses. They were very.????Formula. shall catch Pelissier. Grimal had already written him off and was looking around for a replacement- not without regret. To create a clandestine imitation of a competitor??s perfume and sell it under one??s own name was terribly improper. holding it tight. alchemist. and he suddenly felt very happy.. Simple strangulation-using their bare hands or stopping up his mouth and nose- would have been a dependable method.000 livres. Madame Gaillard??s establishment was a blessing. Several such losses were quite affordable. That reassured him. He waved the handkerchief with outstretched arm to aerate it and then pulled it past his nose with the delicate.

One of those battleships easily cost a good 300. confusing your sense of smell with its perfect harmony. or dried clove blossoms had come in. and a cunning apparatus to snatch the scented soul from matter. well-practiced motion. swirling the mixing bottles. unremittingly beseeching. wood. was something he had added on later. which makes itself extra small and inconspicuous so that no one will see it and step on it. after all. Confining him to the house.?? It was Amor and Psyche. Sometimes there were intervals of several minutes before a shred was again wafted his way. Let the Brouets. the money behind a beam. the sea.?? he said after he had sniffed for a while. And then he began to tell stories. or as the legendary fireworks in honor of the dauphin??s birth.?? he said in close to a normal.