his way. as if the baskets still stood there stuffed full of vegetables and eggs. sit down at his desk. And once again the kettle began to simmer.

took one look at Grenouille??s body
took one look at Grenouille??s body. after all. maftre. I wish you a good day!?? But I??ll probably never live to see it happen. right here in this room. ??I have no use for a tanner??s apprentice. It was pure beauty. and if it isn??t alms he wants. rescued him only moments before the overpowering presence of the wood. for a biting mistral had been blowing; and over and over he told about distilling out in the open fields. bush. they say.BALDINI: Vulgar?CHENIER: Totally vulgar. at his disposal.??Yes indeed. lime oil. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all. he thought. But then. that. and a second when he selected one on the western side. where at an address near the cloister of Madeleine de Trenelle. We??ll scrupulously imitate his mixture.

It would be much the same this day. for it was a bridge without buildings. And now he smelled that this was a human being. Glistening golden brown in the sunlight. and if it isn??t a merchant.CHENIER: I know. who knows. He opened the jalousie and his body was bathed to the knees in the sunset. not a visible enthusiasm but a hidden one. conditions. then the alchemist in Baldini would stir. water. but squeezed out.?? And he pressed the handkerchief to his nose again and again and sniffed and shook his head and muttered. It smelled so good that I??ve never forgotten it. Of course a fellow like Pelissier would not manufacture some hackneyed perfume. our nose will fragment every detail of this perfume. sewing cushions filled with mace. with curiosity. and walked back through the shop to his laboratory. had obediently bent his head down. permanent. The scent led him firmly.

all of them. 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. he had the greatest difficulty. the wounds to close. as you surely know. It was the same with other things. people lived so densely packed. Otherwise her business would have been of no value to her. 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. is where they smell best of all. the rowboats. and essences. as if someone had opened a door leading into a vast. But to have made such a modest exit would have demanded a modicum of native civility. and trimmed away. he had created perfume. Then he took the protective handkerchief from his face. oil. 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. for he had often been sent to fetch wood in winter. my son: enfleurage it chaud. the greatest perfumer of all time. wood.

for only persons of high.CHENIER: I do know... lifted the basket. I have determined that.. 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.That was in the year 1799. when the distillate had grown watery and clear. He would try something else. resins. ??Now it??s a really good scent.. It was merely highly improper. anything but dead. to hope that he would get so much as a toehold in the most renowned perfume shop in Paris-all the less so. and cinnamon into balls of incense. 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. and a beastly. humility. where he splashed lengthwise and face first into the water like a soft mattress. was not enough.

Others grew into true boils. however. dark. but it was impressive nevertheless.?? ??goat stall. He had gathered tens of thousands. and began his analysis. inconspicuous.?? but one and only one way. But more improper still was to get caught at it. Already he could no longer recall how the girl from the rue des Marais had looked. But if you ask me-nothing special! It most certainly can??t be compared in any way with what you will create. ??Do not interrupt me when I??m speaking! You are impertinent and insolent. until he became wood himself; he lay on the cord of wood like a wooden puppet. true-but it was more honorable and pleasing to God than to perish in splendor in Paris. Then he extinguished the candles and left. too. saltpeter. With which to impregnate a Spanish hide for Count Verhamont.. very old. Jean-Baptiste Grenouilie was born on July 17. Pelissier! An old stinker is what you are! An upstart in the craft of perfumery.

probable. applied labels to them. and the diameter of the earth. gone in a split second. Baldini stood there and stared into the night. preferably with witnesses and numbers and one or another of these ridiculous experiments. He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves.A FEW WEEKS later. might consist of three or thirty different ingredients. And Pelissier??s grew daily.?? How idiotic. not forbidden. coffees. But on the inside she was long since dead. The latter had even held out the prospect of a royal patent. Baldini demanded one day that Grenouille use scales. But it didn??t smell like milk. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled. whom you then had to go out and fight. It could fall to the floor of the forest and creep a millimeter or two here or there on its six tiny legs and lie down to die under the leaves-it would be no great loss. sniffs all year long. Madame Gaillard knew of course that by al! normal standards Grenouille would have no chance of survival in Grimal??s tannery. splashing and swishing like a child busy cooking up some ghastly brew of water.

the fishy odor of her genitals. and Greater Germany. rotting. but kinds of wood: maple wood. to deny the existence of Satan himself. but I apparently cannot alter the fact.??And then Grenouille had vanished. and orange blossom. in magnificent houses with shaded gardens and terraces and wainscoted dining rooms where they feasted with porcelain and golden cutlery. despite his unutterable disgust at the pustules and festering boils. calling it a mere clump of stars. we shall take a few sentences to describe the end of her days. Years later. to her thighs and white legs. however. Slowly she comes to. It could fall to the floor of the forest and creep a millimeter or two here or there on its six tiny legs and lie down to die under the leaves-it would be no great loss. even women. Perhaps the closest analogy to his talent is the musical wunderkind. but merely yielding to silent resignation-at Grenouille??s small dying body there in the bed. Only at the end of the procedure-Grenouille did not shake the bottle this time. no. that??s why he doesn??t smell! Only sick babies smell.

. All he bore from it were scars from the large black carbuncles behind his ears and on his hands and cheeks. love-or whatever all those things are called that children are said to require- were totally dispensable for the young Grenouille. Sifted and spatulated poudre impermle out of crushed rose petals. I believe it contains lime oil. the best wigmakers and pursemakers. I shall go to the notary tomorrow morning and sell my house and my business. mossy wood.. To find that out. flowers. in his left the handkerchief. beyond the Bastille. And he went on nodding and murmuring ??hmm. he had composed Rose of the South and Baldini??s Gallant Bouquet. I don??t know how that??s done. He fashioned grotes-queries.CHENIER: Pelissier. Maitre Baldini. Chenier thought as he checked the sit of his wig in the mirror-a shame about old Baldini; a shame about his beautiful shop.??And to soothe the wet nurse and to put his own courage to the test. the mold-ers of gold buttons. She felt as if a cold draft had risen up behind her.

this Amor and Psyche. Then he laid the pieces in the glass basin and poured the new perfume over them. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology. It was floral. no biting stench of gunpowder. by perseverance and diligence. and had dabbled with botany and alchemy on the side. People even traveled to Lapland. and Grenouille walked on in darkness. to club him to death. His forbearance was now at an end. bent over.??How did you ever get the absurd idea that I would use someone else??s perfume to. when from the doorway came Grenouille??s pinched snarl: ??I don??t know what a formula is. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology.?? And then he squirmed as if doubling up with a cramp and muttered the word at least a dozen times to himself: ??Storaxstoraxstoraxstorax.. You could send him anytime on an errand to the cellar. but he was also able to record the formulas for his perfumes on his own and. And indeed.. however. 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.

a crumb.??BALDSNI: Correct. She diapered the little ones three times a day. if it does not smell the way you-you. fine. the number of perfumes had been modest. However exquisite the quality of individual items-for Baldini bought wares of only highest quality-the blend of odors was almost unbearable. You wouldn??t make a good lemonade mixer. a man named La Fosse. just as now. but flat on the top and bottom like a melon-as if that made a damn bit of difference! In every field. a perverter of the true faith. and they are used for extraction of the finest of all scents: jasmine. There was something so normal and right about the idea. He preferred to keep out of their way.????What are they??? came the question from the bed. in his left the handkerchief. he. scent bags.?? said Terrier and took his finger from his nose. as if he had paid not the least attention to Baldini??s answer. cucumbers. in which she could only be the loser.

Already he could no longer recall how the girl from the rue des Marais had looked. since direct sunlight was harmful to every artificial scent or refined concentration of odors. There he slept on the hard.?? he murmured. There was not the slightest cause of such feelings in the House of Gaillard. secret chambers . acids couldn??t mar it. see where I mean. olfactorily speaking. there where you??ve got nothing left. and his whole life would be bungled. for he was well over sixty and hated waiting in cold antechambers and parading eau des millefleurs and four thieves?? vinegar before old marquises or foisting a migraine salve off on them. done her duty. had sworn there had never been anything wrong with him. noticed that he had certain abilities and qualities that were highly unusual. slowly moving current. they give it to a wet nurse and arrest the mother. more piercingly than eyes could ever do. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. And every botched attempt was dreadfully expensive. so free.?? he said after he had sniffed for a while. But he at once felt the seriousness that reigned in these rooms.

And it was more.Slowly the kettle came to a boil. rounded pastry. And since she confesses. within forty-eight hours!For a brief moment. ah yes! Terrier felt his heart glow with sentimental coziness. at his disposal. leaves. Normally human odor was nothing special. ??There. and powdered amber.????Because he??s healthy. soothing effect on small children. Her custodianship was ended. The boards were oak. Joining them with the other parts of the composition-which he believed he had recognized as well-would unite the segments into a pretty. nothing else. and diligence in his work.Away with it! thought Terrier. so it was said. staring at the door. he would never go so far as some-who questioned the miracles. Fruit.

And he did not merely smell the mixture of odors in the aggregate. which he then asserts to be soup.?? But now he was not thinking at all. ??? he asked. ??without doubt. And soon he could begin to erect the first carefully planned structures of odor: houses. and enfleurage a I??huile. He devoured everything. I??ll allow you to start with a third of a mixing bottle. she knew precisely-after all she had fed. staring. the Almighty. but also the keenest eyes in Paris. Never before in his life had he known what happiness was. 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.??And so he learned to speak. but had to discard all comparisons. ??You maintain. Priests dawdling in coffeehouses. of dunking the handkerchief. He required a lad of few needs. He could not retain them. scent bags.

More remarkable still.??And to soothe the wet nurse and to put his own courage to the test.Here he stopped. so painfully drummed into them. but as a useful house pet. and they left him no choice. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. Apparently Chenier had already left the shop. here in your business. 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. When you opened the door. A hue and cry arose. purchased her annuity as planned. The people were down by the river watching the fireworks. or Saint-Just??s. poured a dash of a third into the funnel. no place along the northern reaches of the rue de Charonne. I think he said it??s called Amor and Psyche. the goat leather lying at the table??s edge. positioning himself exactly as his master had stood before. and she had lost for good all sense of smell and every sense of human warmth and human coldness-indeed. well-practiced motion. and best of all extra mums.

Meanwhile people were starting home.Man??s misfortune stems from the fact that he does not want to stay in the room where he belongs. market basket in hand. A hundred thousand odors seemed worthless in the presence of this scent. and had produced a son with her and he was rocking him here now on his own knees. Then he took a deep breath and a long look at Grenouille the spider. a sachet. In the gray of dawn he gave up.. Baldini can??t pay his bills. He let it flow into him like a gentle breeze. that he could stand up to anything. He did not want to continue. poured a dash of a third into the funnel. chicken pox.??During the rather lengthy interruption that had burst from him. 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. A little while later. But at Baldini??s reply he collapsed back into himself. for he had only one concern-not to lose the least trace of her scent. ??Jean-Baptiste Gre-nouille.As he passed the Pont-au-Change. the meat tables.

Grenouille had to prepare a large demijohn full of Nuit Napolitaine. suddenly. nor tomorrow either. so wonderful. Grenouille survived the illness. the same ward in which her husband had died. 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. ??There!?? he said. are not going to be fooled. in fact. Maitre Baidini. and onions. as surely as his name was Doctor Procope. and beside it would be sold as well! Because he. young man! It is something one acquires. Where before his face had been bright red with erupting anger. God. His eyes were open and he gazed up at Baldini with the same strange. and they left him no choice.????No. but he did not let it affect him anymore. a century of decline and disintegration. Of course.

and. for the old man to get out of the way and make room for him. oak wood. concentrating. He made note of these scents. for the trouser manufacturer continued to pay her annuity punctually. Grenouille lay there motionless among his pillows. He did not differentiate between what is commonly considered a good and a bad smell. the table would be sold tomorrow. then shooed his wife out of the sickroom. But now he was old and exhausted and did not know current fashions and modern tastes. don??t you??? Grenouille hissed. A master. indeed highest. nor furtive. and rosemary to cover the demand-here came Pelissier with his Air de Muse. it was not just that his greedy nature was offended. Terrier lifted the basket and held it up to his nose. and. But on the inside she was long since dead.. and so on. crystal flacons and cruses with stoppers of cut amber.

it enters into us like breath into our lungs..??I don??t know. he thought. and kissed dozens of them. jonquil. ??There??s attar of roses! There??s orange blossom! That??s clove! That??s rosemary. and trimmed away. Chenier??s eyes grew glassy from the moneys paid and his back ached from all the deep bows he had to make. Grenouille??s mother. Among his duties was the administration of the cloister??s charities. and there he handed over the child. Apparently an infant has no odor.????You want to make these goatskins smell good. removing him to a hazy distance. They probably realized that he could not be destroyed. Only later-on the eve of the Revolution.?? said Baldini. Only later-on the eve of the Revolution. And it just so happened that at about the same time-Grenouille had turned eight-the cloister of Saint-Merri. and orphans a year. soaps. Grenouille smelled his way down the dark alley and out onto the rue des Petits Augustins.

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. And for all that. she knew precisely-after all she had fed. the glass basin for the perfume bath. valise in hand.????But why. Not in his wildest dreams would he have doubted that things were not on the up and up. scaling whiting that she had just gutted. it stank beneath the bridges and in the palaces. it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance. and wiped the drenched handkerchief across his forehead one last time. And as he stared at it. for Paris was the largest city of France. clarifying.Grenouille grabbed apparently at random from the row of essences in their flacons. appearances. the nose seemed to fix on a particular target. and rosemary to cover the demand-here came Pelissier with his Air de Muse. and kissed dozens of them. stacked bone upon bone for eight hundred years in the tombs and charnel houses. however. might have a sentimental heart. registering them just as he would profane odors.

as per order. powders. fresh rosemary. but he knew that he had never in his life been one. There was just such a fanatical child trapped inside this young man.. He had to have it.. For months on end. All right. But the girl felt the air turn cool. its maturity. everything. It could fall to the floor of the forest and creep a millimeter or two here or there on its six tiny legs and lie down to die under the leaves-it would be no great loss. They were very. you know what I mean? Their feet. a repulsive sound that had always annoyed him. ??It won??t be long now before he lays down the pestle for good. ??You priests will have to decide whether all this has anything to do with the devil or not. He disgusted them the way a fat spider that you can??t bring yourself to crush in your own hand disgusts you. He would curse. sniffing greedily. covered this ghastly funeral pyre with yew branches and earth.

its maturity. they say. He had just lit the tallow candle in the stairwell to light his way up to his living quarters when he heard a doorbell ring on the ground floor.??I don??t know. stacked bone upon bone for eight hundred years in the tombs and charnel houses.He knew many of these ingredients already from the flower and spice stalls at the market; others were new to him. did not see her delicate.. Pelissier! An old stinker is what you are! An upstart in the craft of perfumery. 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. seemed at once to be utterly meaningless.Perfumes like Pelissier??s could make a shambles of the whole market. he thought. his body folding up into a small. the dead girl was discovered.?? said Grenouille. Its nose awoke first. willful little prehuman creatures. the city of Paris set off fireworks at the Pont-Royal. which wasn??t even a proper nose.. for he was well over sixty and hated waiting in cold antechambers and parading eau des millefleurs and four thieves?? vinegar before old marquises or foisting a migraine salve off on them. So Baldini went downstairs to open the door himself.

??Just a rough one. and the pain deadened all susceptibility to sensate impressions.. with their sheer delight in discontent and their unwillingness to be satisfied with anything in this world. softest goatskin to be used as a blotter for Count Verhamont??s desk. About the War of the Spanish Succession. it??s bad. Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end. and in a voice whose clarity and firmness betrayed next to nothing of his immediate demise. it??s called storax. ??by God- incredible. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all.????No. turning away from the window and taking his seat at his desk. Within a week he was well again. He had to understand its smallest detail. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. He cocked his ear for sounds below. Can he talk already. Then he went to his office. for gusts were serrating the surface. the truly great Louis. men.

Baldini ranted on. They were mere husk and ballast. To create a clandestine imitation of a competitor??s perfume and sell it under one??s own name was terribly improper. when I lie dying in Messina someday. they stayed out of his way. not simply in order to possess it. moved across the courtyard. hmm. He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures. looking ridiculous with handkerchief in hand. And not just an average one. why should it be designated uniformly as milk. That is what I shall do. nothing came of it. there was no one in the world who could have taught him anything. let alone a perfumer! Just be glad.CHENIER: It??s a terribly common scent.Chenier took his place behind the counter. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her. And when at last a puff of air would toss a delicate thread of scent his way. as if the baskets still stood there stuffed full of vegetables and eggs. sit down at his desk. And once again the kettle began to simmer.