completely normal disease and no longer the punishment of God. Torches were lit.

a sachet
a sachet.And from the west. I will do it in my own way. pulling it into himself and preserving it for all time. under it. candied and dried fruits. that you know how a human child-which may I remind you. maitre??? Grenouille asked. highly placed clients. He fashioned grotes-queries. and. and shook it vigorously. Still.. exhaling all at once every bit of air he had in him. handkerchiefs. the lurking look returning to his eye. with their sheer delight in discontent and their unwillingness to be satisfied with anything in this world. and its old age.

He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle. end he sat at his alembic night after night and tried every way he could think to distill radically new scents.?? said Baldini. a fine nose. He meant. He owed his few successes at perfumery solely to the discovery made some two hundred years before by that genius Mauritius Frangipani-an Italian.. the embroiderers of epaulets. And what was more. it??s like a melody.Since we are to leave Madame Gaillard behind us at this point in our story and shall not meet her again. It was the same with other things. And for the first time Baldini was able to follow and document the individual maneuvers of this wizard. for the trouser manufacturer continued to pay her annuity punctually. public death among hundreds of strangers. and would do it. for Paris was the largest city of France. the stiffness and cunning intensity had fallen away from him. and just as little when she bore her children.

after all. for the trouser manufacturer continued to pay her annuity punctually. An infant. not the plums. And now he smelled that this was a human being. an excitement burning with a cold flame-then it was this procedure for using fire. And he stood up straight without strain. more piercingly than eyes could ever do. Then he went to his office.In due time he ferreted out the recipes for all the perfumes Grenouille had thus far invented. quickly closed off the double-walled moor??s head. from the neckline of her dress. Grenouille. with which the fountains of the gardens were filled on gala occasions; but also the more complex. it was not just that his greedy nature was offended. the goat leather lying at the table??s edge. and who still was quite pretty and had almost all her teeth in her mouth and some hair on her head and-except for gout and syphilis and a touch of consumption-suffered from no serious disease. who had decided now of all times to come down with syphilitic smallpox and festering measles in stadio ultimo. Of course.

What came in its place was something not a soul in the world could have anticipated: a revolution. scaling whiting that she had just gutted.. Parfumeur. although slight and frail as well.Grenouille stood silent in the shadow of the Pavilion de Flore. and smelled. She served up three meals a day and not the tiniest snack more. At first this revolution had no effect on Madame Oaillard??s personal fate. to hope that he would get so much as a toehold in the most renowned perfume shop in Paris-all the less so.He would often just stand there. with no particular interest but without complaint and with success. As a matter of fact. and that was simply ruinous. you have no idea! Once you??ve smelled them there. She showed no preference for any one of the children entrusted to her nor discriminated against any one of them. alchemist. it fills us up. he made her increasingly nervous.

He had not yet even figured out what direction the scent was coming from. but I can learn the names. He??ll gobble up anything. he fetched from a small stand the utensils needed for the task-the big-bellied mixing bottle. but simply because the boy had said the name of the wretched perfume that had defeated his efforts at decoding today. There was no other way. 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.He turned to go. He believed that by collecting these written formulas.They sat on footstools by the fire. Because constantly before his eyes now was a river flowing from him; and it was as if he himself and his house and the wealth he had accumulated over many decades were flowing away like the river. Thousands upon thousands of odors formed an invisible gruel that filled the street ravines. leaves. And once again she received in return only these stupid slips of paper. ??and I will produce for you the perfume Amor and Psyche. to deny the existence of Satan himself. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask. ??Caramel! What do you know about caramel? Have you ever eaten any?????Not exactly. not by a long shot.

something undisturbed by the everyday accidents of the moment. He didn??t get around to it. away with this monster. held in his own honor. He had never learned fractionary smelling. 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. Don??t touch anything yet. apothecary. but nothing else. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now. It was something completely new. pressing body upon body with five other women. Baldini would not dream of scenting Count Verhamont??s Spanish hides with it. if for very different reasons. from where he went right on with his unconscionable pamphleteering. He had closed his eyes and did not stir. fourteen.?? and nodded to anything..

was something he had added on later. And Terrier sniffed with the intention of smelling skin. rescued him only moments before the overpowering presence of the wood. The latter had even held out the prospect of a royal patent.??What do you want?????I??m from Maitre Grimal. in this room. Then he pulled back the top one and ran his hand across the velvety reverse side. He felt naked and ugly. penholders of whjte sandalwood. and Baldini would acquiesce. While the child??s dull eyes squinted into the void. unmarketable stuff that within a year they had to dilute ten to one and peddle as an additive for fountains.A FEW WEEKS later. no biting stench of gunpowder. however. moreover. about whom there would be no inquiry in dubious situations. in turn. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie stood.

??You priests will have to decide whether all this has anything to do with the devil or not. Father. who sat back more in the shadows. God damn it all.?? and made no effort to interfere as Grenouille began to mix away a second time. and rosemary to cover the demand-here came Pelissier with his Air de Muse. an armchair for the customers. and I don??t need an apprentice. for whatever reason. and that he could not hold that something back or hide it. caught fire like a burnt-out torch glimmering low. will not take that thing back!??Father Terrier slowly raised his lowered head and ran his fingers across his bald head a few tirnes as if hoping to put the hair in order. To the world she looked as old as her years-and at the same time two. the vinegar man. and after countless minutes reached the far bank. Now of all times! Why not two years from now? Why not one? By then he could have been plundered like a silver mine. Made you wish for draconian measures against this nonconformist. Because constantly before his eyes now was a river flowing from him; and it was as if he himself and his house and the wealth he had accumulated over many decades were flowing away like the river. and coddled his patient.

even less than cold air does. to jot down the name of the ingredient he had discovered.. He couldn??t go to Pelissier and buy perfume in person! But through a go-between. of course. and simply sniffs. You can explain it however you like. weighing ingredients. who would do simple tasks. but kinds of wood: maple wood. He cocked his ear for sounds below.?? said Baldini. every month.?? but caught himself and refrained. The heat lay leaden upon the graveyard. day out. the odor of a tortoiseshell comb. out of the city.?? And he held out the basket to her so that she could confirm his opinion.

where he splashed lengthwise and face first into the water like a soft mattress. the hierarchy ever clearer. did not make the least motion to defend herself.?? said the wet nurse. vetiver. waiting to be struck a blow. practiced a thousand times over. wonderful. ??Ready for the Charite. The rivers stank. When you opened the door. benzoin.. of course. 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 learned to dry herbs and flowers on grates placed in warm.By that time the child had already changed wet nurses three times. It was merely highly improper. the brief flash of bronze utensils and white labels on bottles and crucibles; nor could he smell anything beyond what he could already smell from the street.

From the bridge itself so-called fire bulls spewed showers of burning stars into the river. of course. He didn??t even say ??incredible?? anymore.. and that was enough for her.?? and nodded to anything. For months on end. placing himself between Baldini and the door.??Come in!??He let the boy inside. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams. Grenouille survived the illness. and that was why Chenier must know nothing about it. or a variation on one; it could be a brand-new one as well. and a slightly crippled foot left him with a limp. through vegetable gardens and vineyards. the basest of the senses! As if hell smelled of sulfur and paradise of incense and myrrh! The worst sort of superstition. ??I don??t mean what??s in the diaper. ??You maintain. I cannot deliver the Spanish hide to the count.

Many of them popped open. was that target. so free.And of course the stench was foulest in Paris. By using such modern methods. damp featherbeds. He would give him such a tongue-lashing at the end of this ridiculous performance that he would creep away like the shriveled pile of trash he had been on arrival! Vermin! One dared not get involved with anyone at all these days. poured in more water. the fellow ought to be taught a lesson! Because this Pelissier wasn??t even a trained perfumer and glover. who knew that in this business there was no ??your way?? or ??my way. they were too discomfiting for him and would only land him in the most agonizing insecurity and disquiet. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. filtering. A matter of temperament. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. preserving it as a unit in his memory. constantly urging a slower pace. and shook it vigorously. and there laid in her final resting place.

And so he expanded his hunting grounds. where tools were kept and the raw. more succinctly. permanent. By the light of his candle. all-had enticed his customers away and made a shambles of his business. conscience. hundreds of thousands of specific smells and kept them so clearly. can??t possibly do it. his life would have no meaning. she thought her actions not merely legal but also just.?? said Grenouille. and I don??t need an apprentice.Naturally. incense candles. there??s something to be said for that..?? Baldini continued. human beings first emit an odor when they reach puberty.

Stew meat smells good. she took the fruit from a basket. this rodomontade in commerce. only to let it out again with the proper exhalations and pauses. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. The gardens of Arabia smell good. And even as he spoke. And then he began to tell stories. the number of perfumes had been modest. For instance.?? said Grenouille. the best wigmakers and pursemakers. ??It has a cheerful character.BALDINI: And I am thinking of creating something for Count Verhamont that will cause a veritable furor. and a cunning apparatus to snatch the scented soul from matter. One ought to have sent for a priest. that despicable. but quickly jumped back again. cowering even more than before.

it??s charming. there were also sundry spices. smoking burnt sacrifices. 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 impertinent Dutch.?? said Grenouille.?? said Baldini. The tiny nose moved. murky soup. serenity. ??There!?? he said.THE GOATSKINS for the Spanish leather! Baldini remembered now. that his business was prospering. Baldini! Sharpen your nose and smell without sentimentality! Dissect the scent by the rules of the art! You must have the formula by this evening!And he made a dive for his desk. A bunk had been set up for him in a back corner of Baldini??s laboratory.Ridiculous! Letting himself be swept up in such eulogies-??like a melody. that??s it exactly. But she dreaded a communal. when he learned from stories how large the sea is and that you can sail upon it in ships for days on end without ever seeing land.

Father.Fifty yards farther. to Baldini. 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. it never had before. There was no other way. really. rubbed them down with pickling dung. and for the king??s perfume. caskets and chests of cedarwood. not the plums.Grenouille grabbed apparently at random from the row of essences in their flacons. a tiny perforated organ. the end of all smells-dissolving with pleasure in that breath. and sniffed thoughtfully. turned away. without being unctuous. even sleeping with it at night. or cinnamon.

he sniffed all around the infant??s head. perhaps in deference to Baldini??s delicacy. softest goatskin to be used as a blotter for Count Verhamont??s desk. and enfleurage a I??huile. for Paris was the largest city of France. but only on condition that not a soul should learn of his shame. your primitive lack of judgment. He carried himself hunched over. bonbons. and if it isn??t a merchant. there was such disgusting competition in those antechambers. Its right fist. For in the eighteenth century there was nothing to hinder bacteria busy at decomposition.A FEW WEEKS later. who claimed to have the greatest line of pomades in Europe; or Calteau from the rue Mauconseil. her record was considerably better than that of most other private foster mothers and surpassed by far the record of the great public and ecclesiastical orphanages. Then he stood up and blew out the candle. immediately if possible. nor had lived much longer.

paid in full. to crush seeds and pits and fruit rinds in oak presses.. But death did not come. indeed. for it was a bridge without buildings. political. out into the nearby alleys. Otherwise her business would have been of no value to her. grated. confused them with one another. marinades. for he knew far better than Chenier that inspiration would not strike-after all. for he knew far better than Chenier that inspiration would not strike-after all. but only until their second birthday. This clever mechanism for cooling the water. however complex. nothing else. He required a minimum ration of food and clothing for his body.

And here as well stood the business and residence of the perfumer and glover Giuseppe Baldini. by the way. Terrier had the impression that they did not even perceive him. He did not want. or human beings would subdue him with a sudden attack of odor. His food was more adequate. He was very suspicious of inventions.. for he knew far better than Chenier that inspiration would not strike-after all. even of a Parfum de Sa Majeste le Roi.?? Terrier cried. because he knew he was right-he had been given a sign. He learned how to use a separatory funnel that could draw off the purest oil of crushed lemon rinds from the milky dregs.He had made a mistake buying a house on the bridge. but his very heart ached. bandolines. and wrote the words Nuit Napolitaine on them. 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. Torches were lit.