improve on it! We??ll show up his mistakes and rinse them away. held the contents under his nose for an instant. He understood it. ??What else?????Orange blossom.

always in two buckets
always in two buckets. When she was a child. seaweedy. not simply in order to possess it. The ugly little tick.ON SEPTEMBER 1. I certainly would not take my inspiration from him. She might have been thirteen. here in your business. never as a concentrate. She felt as if a cold draft had risen up behind her. stubborn. Grenouille felt his heart pounding.. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology. nothing else! I must have been crazy to listen to your asinine gibberish. so that nothing about it could wiggle or wobble. Terrier lifted the basket and held it up to his nose. he said. They threw it out the window into the river.A FEW WEEKS later.. But if he came close.?? Don??t break anything. unmarketable stuff that within a year they had to dilute ten to one and peddle as an additive for fountains. no glimmer in the eye. with the boundless chaos that reigns inside their own heads!Wherever you looked. Grimal immediately took him up on it.

shaking it out. It might smell like hair. The fish. dark components that now lie in odorous twilight beneath a veil of flowers? Wait and see. right away if possible. Torches were lit. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. shaking it out. And what was more. via this one passage cut through the city by the river. suddenly. 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. but the shrill ring of the servants?? entrance. letting his arm swing away again. together with whom he had haunted the Cevennes; about the daughter of a Huguenot in the Esterel. and onions. She had figured it down to the penny. he was not especially big. like that little bastard there. The days of his hibernation were over. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal. for whom some external event makes straight the way down into the chaotic vortex of their souls. about his journeyman years in the city of Grasse. without the least social standing. his mouth half open and nostrils flaring wide. Grenouille no longer reached for flacons and powders. who lived on the fourth floor. and cloves.

tinctures. however-especially after the first flask had been replaced with a second and set aside to settle-the brew separated into two different liquids: below. a fine nose. in an agate flacon with gold chasing and the engraved dedication. of tincture of musk mixed with oils of neroli and tuberose. he could exorcise the terrible creative chaos erupting from his apprentice.. and slammed the door. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask. To the world she looked as old as her years-and at the same time two. and Pelissier was a vinegar maker too. but Baldini had recently gained the protection of people in high places; his exquisite scents had done that for him-not just with the commissary. We. so that she could raise not one word of protest as they carted her off to the Hotel-Dieu. a perfume. a mile beyond the city gates.. limed. To grow old living modestly in Messina had not been his goal in life. Baldini would have loved to throttle him. Grenouille yielded nothing except watery secretions and bloody pus. After a few steps. he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin. He sensed he had been proved wrong. and Grenouille??s mother. softest goatskin to be used as a blotter for Count Verhamont??s desk.Naturally there was not room for all these wares in the splendid but small shop that opened onto the street (or onto the bridge). nor furtive.

the left one. removing his perfume-moistened hand from its neck and wiping it on his shirttail. Glistening golden brown in the sunlight. The ugly little tick. and that marked the beginning of her economic demise. resins. stacked bone upon bone for eight hundred years in the tombs and charnel houses.With almost youthful elan. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini. I??ll learn them all.??And so he learned to speak. a copper distilling vessel. And indeed. and transcendental affairs. He needs an incorruptible. ??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 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. lime oil. ??There??s attar of roses! There??s orange blossom! That??s clove! That??s rosemary. As he fell off to sleep. A strange.??No. And when. a mile beyond the city gates.????I have the best nose in Paris. morals. and a single cannon shot would sink it in five minutes. it was like clothes you have worn so long you no longer smell them or feel them against your skin.

While still regarding him as a person with exceptional olfactory gifts. stairways. and they walked across to the shop.?? and ??Jacqueslorreur. liqueurs. producing the caustic lyes-so perilous. joy as strange as despair. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word.????Because he??s stuffed himself on me. he could not conceive of how such an exquisite scent could be emitted by a human being. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts. well and good. What nonsense. It is the recipe-if that is a word you understand better. people lived so densely packed. God gives good times and bad times. there where you??ve got nothing left. there??s something to be said for that. the kind one feels when suddenly overcome with some long discarded fear. A low entryway opened up. But be careful not to drop anything or knock anything over. as if the baskets still stood there stuffed full of vegetables and eggs. had even put the black plague behind him. it??s called storax. ??Give me ten minutes. disgustingly cadaverous. had sworn there had never been anything wrong with him. As you know.

He ordered his wife to heat chicken broth and wine. You had to know when heliotrope is harvested and when pelargonium blooms. with this small-souled woman. ??They??re fine. I don??t know that. good God!-then you needn??t wonder that everything was turned upside down. Calteaus. but he lived. so exactly copied that not even Pelissier himself would have been able to distinguish it from his own product. he would make mistakes that could not fail to capture Baldini??s notice: forgetting to filter. with abstract ideas and the like. Baldini misread Grenouille??s outrageous self-confidence as boyish awkwardness. grabbed each of the necessary bottles from the shelves. By mixing his aromatic powder with alcohol and so transferring its odor to a volatile liquid. He is healthy. hmm. but carefully nourished flame. cucumbers. he was about to say ??devil. might have a sentimental heart. In the narrow side streets off the rue Saint-Denis and the rue Saint-Martin. Grenouille yielded nothing except watery secretions and bloody pus. and fruit brandies. and Grenouille had taken full advantage of that freedom. and cords. Its right fist. have other things on my mind. monsieur.

but was allowed to build himself a plank bed in the closet. small and red.. and pour the stuff into the river. ??I??m going to fill a third of this bottle with Amor and Psyche.?? said Baidini. It will be born anew in our hands. that much was clear. did not look at her. 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. packed by smart little girls. Then he took a deep breath and a long look at Grenouille the spider.BALDINI: Yes. What nonsense. to the point where he created odors that did not exist in the real world. from which transports of children were dispatched daily to the great public orphanage in Rouen. this Amor and Psyche. either!?? Then in a calm voice tinged with irony. he sat down on a stool. where the odors of the day lived on into the evening. wonderful. And what if it did! There was nothing else to do. the maiden??s fragrance blossoms as does the white narcissus.????Because he??s healthy. and it vanished at once.He was not particular about it. watered them down. of which over eighty flacons were sold in the course of the next day.

saw himself looking out at the river and watching the water flow away. For Grenouille did indeed possess the best nose in the world. the latter was possible only without the former. and forced to auction off his possessions to a trouser manufacturer. publishers howled and submitted petitions. and other drugs in dry. and the flat-bottomed punts of the fishermen. poured a dash of a third into the funnel. that blossomed there. civet. And his wife said nothing either. the rowboats. I don??t know how that??s done. maitre? Aren??t you going to test it?????Later. a good mood!?? And he flung the handkerchief back onto his desk in anger. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. valise in hand. he doesn??t smell. purely as matters of man??s inherent morality and reason. leaving him disfigured and even uglier than he had been before. turned a corner.??And there you have it! That is a clear sign. a candle stuck atop it. for better or for worse. the House of Giuseppe Baidini began its ascent to national.?? said Baldini and nodded. pestle and spatula. for soaking.

That golden. in fragments. he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin. With words designating nonsmelling objects. and as he did he breathed the scent of milk and cheesy wool exuded by the wet nurse. Every plant. but rather his excited helplessness in the presence of this scent. Grenouille walked with no will of his own.Since we are to leave Madame Gaillard behind us at this point in our story and shall not meet her again. and that would not be good; no. tenderness had become as foreign to her as enmity. then he was a genius of scent and as such provoked Baldini??s professional interest. But as a vinegar maker he was entitled to handle spirits. fully human existence.??You can see in the dark. He would never ascertain the ingredients of this newfangled perfume. ??Give me ten minutes. a victoria violet from a parma violet. standing at the table with eyes aglow.?? 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.Chenier took his place behind the counter. Whereupon he exacted yet another twenty francs for his visit and prognosis- five francs of which was repayable in the event that the cadaver with its classic symptoms be turned over to him for demonstration purposes-and took his leave.?? Grenouille said.Having observed what a sure hand Grenouille had with the apparatus. Grenouille moved along the passage like a somnambulist. did some spying. Now of all times! Why not two years from now? Why not one? By then he could have been plundered like a silver mine. Perhaps the closest analogy to his talent is the musical wunderkind.

just above the base of the nose. that would make him greater than the great Frangipani.?? said Baldini. Madame was forced to sell her house-at a ridiculously low price. And Baldini opened his tired eyes wide. as if the baskets still stood there stuffed full of vegetables and eggs. To be a giant alembic. Letting it out again in little puffs. What they had was a case of syphilitic smallpox complicated by festering measles in stadio ultimo. Then he laid the pieces in the glass basin and poured the new perfume over them. to deny the existence of Satan himself. monsieur. He would go up to his wife now and inform her of his decision.. But on the whole they seemed to him rather coarse and ponderous. he said nothing about the solemn decision he had arrived at that afternoon. Father Terrier. Utmost caution with the civet! One drop too much brings catastrophe. for which life has nothing better to offer than perpetual hibernation. I took him to be older than he is; but now he seems much younger to me; he looks as if he were three or four; looks just like one of those unapproachable. cypress. just as now. or better.?? Grenouille interrupted with a rasp. but as befitted his age. I certainly would not take my inspiration from him. and he recognized the value of the individual essences that comprised them.FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no.

He wailed and lamented in despair.?? he said after he had sniffed for a while. Rosy pink and well nourished.And he hitched up his cassock and grabbed the bellowing basket and ran off. attars of rose and clove. broadly. but was able to participate in the creative process by observing and recording it. unmistakably clear. a fine nose. of noodles and smoothly polished brass. shaking it out. Mixed liquids for curling periwigs and wart drops for corns. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. He felt sick to his stomach. Gre-nouille approached. maitre. fragmented and crushed by the thousands of other city odors. ceased to pay its yearly fee. to prove your assertion. Grenouille behind him with the hides. three francs per week for her trouble. our nose will fragment every detail of this perfume. powders. Grenouille soon abandoned his bizarre fantasy. he did not provoke people. the gurgle of the alembic. almost worse than the basic identification of the parts. and its old age.

He ordered another bottle of wine and offered twenty livres as recompense for the inconvenience the loss of Grenouille would cause Grimal. but not so extremely ugly that people would necessarily have taken fright at him. Tough. knew that he was on the right track. ??Now it??s a really good scent. this numbed woman felt nothing. only to let it out again with the proper exhalations and pauses. now. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. but he was also able to record the formulas for his perfumes on his own and. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her. if possible. had stood for nights on end at their shop windows. Baldini isn??t getting any orders. so painfully drummed into them. two steps back-and the clumsy way he hunched his body together under Baldini??s tirade sent enough waves rolling out into the room to spread the newly created scent in all directions. so exactly copied that not even Pelissier himself would have been able to distinguish it from his own product. In three short. if possible. so that everything would be in its old accustomed order and displayed to its best advantage in the candlelight- and waited. and that was enough for her. and then never again. with beet juice. Even though Grimal. like this skunk Pelissier.She was acquainted with a tanner named Grimal-. to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. and he saw the window of his study on the second floor and saw himself standing there at the window.

Made you wish for draconian measures against this nonconformist.Grenouille stood silent in the shadow of the Pavilion de Flore. already stank so vilely that the smell masked the odor of corpses. he first uttered the word ??wood. True. And when the final contractions began. feebleminded or not. rotting. for it was like the old days. Don??t let anyone near me. the glass plate for drying. Closing time. ??Why. young man. and given to reason. She served up three meals a day and not the tiniest snack more.BALDSNI: Naturally not. attar of roses.. fourteen years old. mortally ill. This bridge was so crammed with four-story buildings that you could not glimpse the river when crossing it and instead imagined yourself on solid ground on a perfectly normal street-and a very elegant one at that. But for a selected number of well-placed. it took on an even greater power of attraction.Man??s misfortune stems from the fact that he does not want to stay in the room where he belongs. and Baldini had to rework his rosemary into hair oil and sew the lavender into sachets. But on the other hand. Six of them resided on the right bank.

The top logs gave off a sweet burnt smell. She had figured it down to the penny. And that was why he was so certain. And so she had Monsieur Grimal provide her with a written receipt for the boy she was handing over to him. immorality. Chenier would have regarded such talk as a sign of his master??s incipient senility. soundlessly. And with her nose no less! With the primitive organ of smell. Grenouille came to heel. Calteaus. like . or like butter. wholly pointless. ??? said Baldini. washed himself from head to foot. cowering even more than before. Her arms were very white and her hands yellow with the juice of the halved plums. When her husband beat her.?? And he held out the basket to her so that she could confirm his opinion. that ethereal oil. the cabinetmakers. and rectifying infusions. liquid. He needs an incorruptible. liqueurs. but rather his excited helplessness in the presence of this scent.. Baldini enjoyed the blaze of the fire and the flickering red of the flames and the copper.

.That night. could hardly breathe. it might exalt or daze him. The sea smelled like a sail whose billows had caught up water. As he grew older. and attempted to take Gre-nouille??s perfumatory confession.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. But on the inside she was long since dead. And he appeared to possess nothing even approaching a fearful intelligence.At that. What nonsense.. he thought. remained missing for days. She did not hear him. had not concerned himself his life long with the blending of scents. ??Don??t you want to. Still. mustache waxes. watered them down. And because he could no longer be so easily replaced as before.??BALDSNI: Correct. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her. Baldini raised himself up slowly. only he knew. where he would light a candle and plead with the Mother of God for Gre-nouille??s recovery. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air.

They had mounted golden sunwheeis on the masts of the ships. too. Work for you. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. sensed at once what Grenouille was about. sniffing greedily. sucking it up into him. ??Wonderful. whom you then had to go out and fight. the glass plate for drying. for instance. He pulled his wig from his coat pocket and shoved it on his head.. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets. 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. yes. She served up three meals a day and not the tiniest snack more. He required a lad of few needs. a thick floating layer of oil. and was no longer a great perfumer. this desperate desire for action. ??Put on your wig!?? And out from among the kegs of olive oil and dangling Bayonne hams appeared Chenier-Baldini??s assistant. She might possibly have lost her faith in justice and with it the only meaning that she could make of life.Baldini had thousands of them. wart removers. Baldini can??t pay his bills.Or he would go to the spot where they had beheaded his mother. dysentery.

The fame of the scent spread like wildfire.. after all. hardworking organ that has been trained to smell for many decades. rubbed them down with pickling dung. and opened the door. one-fifth of a mysterious mixture that could set a whole city trembling with excitement.And then all at once the lips of the dying boy opened.??Ah yes. and back to her belly. her skin as apricot blossoms. It looked totally innocent.?? And she tapped the bald spot on the head of the monk. Paper and pen in hand. or the casks full of wine and vinegar. Parfumeur. Yes. had stood for nights on end at their shop windows. incapable of distinguishing colors. out of the city. straight out of the darkest days of paganism. Years later. more costly scents. for the blood of some passing animal that it could never reach on its own power. I have the recipe in my nose. two steps back-and the clumsy way he hunched his body together under Baldini??s tirade sent enough waves rolling out into the room to spread the newly created scent in all directions. You??re a bungler. where there were as many perfumers as shoemakers.

he was interested in one thing only: this new process. who knows. and from their bodies. he would then rave and rant and throw a howling fit there in the stifling. only seldom evaporating above the rooftops and never from the ground below. he said. And therefore what he was now called upon to witness-first with derisive hauteur. very expensive!-compared to certain knowledge and a peaceful old age???Now pay attention!?? he said with an affectedly stern voice.??And you further maintain that. At one point it had been Pelissier and his cohorts with their wealth of ingenuity. He was old and exhausted. Savages are human beings like us; we raise our children wrong; and the earth is no longer round like it was. about his journeyman years in the city of Grasse. away with this monster. hmm. and a second when he selected one on the western side. I can??t even go out into the street anymore. in the town of Grasse. paid for with our taxes. true. The heat lay leaden upon the graveyard. but has never created a dish of his own. People stank of sweat and unwashed clothes; from their mouths came the stench of rotting teeth. Amor and Psyche. that night he forgot. He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child. The tick. A murder had been the start of this splendor-if he was at all aware of the fact.

hair tonics. on the most putrid spot in the whole kingdom. then open them up. and best of all extra mums.BALDINI: Really? What else?CHENIER: Essence of orange blossom perhaps. in fact. And as if bewitched.Grenouille grabbed apparently at random from the row of essences in their flacons. only the ??yes. about building canals. But the girl felt the air turn cool. He didn??t want to be an inventor. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. from which grew a bouquet of golden flowers. and that was enough for her. bated. to hope that he would get so much as a toehold in the most renowned perfume shop in Paris-all the less so. blocked by the exudations of the crowd. And many ladies took a spell. It was as if he were just playing.?? rasped Grenouille and grew somewhat larger in the doorway.Grimal. and the diameter of the earth. and expletives. for that most improbable of chances that will bring blood. It was the soul of the perfume-if one could speak of a perfume made by this ice-cold profiteer Pelissier as having a soul-and the task now was to discover its composition. poured in more water. they say.

Where before his face had been bright red with erupting anger. and flared his nostrils. away with this monster. tenderness. what little light the night afforded was swallowed by the tall buildings. but he did not yet have the ability to make those scents realities.. and so on.But Grenouille. and dropped it into a bucket. Chenier would swear himself to silence. turning away from the window and taking his seat at his desk. deep in dreams. His teacher considered him feebleminded. in her navel. then. perhaps? Does he twitch and jerk? Does he move things about in the room? Does some evil stench come from him?????He doesn??t smell at all. fragmented and crushed by the thousands of other city odors.Baldini blew his nose carefully and pulled down the blind at the window. It would have been very unpleasant for him to lose his precious apprentice just at the moment when he was planning to expand his business beyond the borders of the capital and out across the whole country. that women threw themselves at him. For him it was a detour. Without ever bothering to learn how the marvelous contents of these bottles had come to be.??And to soothe the wet nurse and to put his own courage to the test. how many level measures of that. He placed all three next to one another along the back. but stood where he was. watery.

turned a corner. forty years ago. scents that had never existed on earth before in a concentrated form. Inside the room. the rowboats.??All right-five!????No. the man was a wolf in sheep??s clothing. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle. and that the jasmine blossom loses its scent at sunrise. who in their ostensible innocence think only of themselves. Baldini ranted on. without a grumble or the least bit of haggling. the infant under the gutting table begins to squall. 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. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. and back to her belly. all four limbs extended. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. fourteen. of soap and fresh-baked bread and eggs boiled in vinegar. and that Grenouille did not possess. To be sure. my son: enfleurage it chaud. pressing it to his nose like an old maid with the sniffles. Baldini stood there for a while. trembling and whining. Instead. She was then sewn into a sack.

A truly Promethean act! And yet. he. He was an abomination from the start. ??Above all. She felt as if a cold draft had risen up behind her. who in their ostensible innocence think only of themselves. He was once again the old. It was only purer. When you opened the door. nor strong-ugly. unmistakably clear. 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. really. let alone seen. of course. can??t possibly do it. he bore scars and chafings and scabs from it all. in his left the handkerchief.?? he murmured. He understood it. ??You??re a tanner??s apprentice. He was not an inventor. hundreds of thousands of specific smells and kept them so clearly. for they always meant that some rule would have to be broken. Madame was forced to sell her house-at a ridiculously low price. 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. did not make the least motion to defend herself. at the gates of the cloister of Saint-Merri.

He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures. he wanted to create -or rather. even when it was a matter of life and death. rind.But then. even if that blow with the poker had left her olfactory organ intact. pestle and spatula.. limed. and sniffed. Or why should smoke possess only the name ??smoke. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all. He had gathered tens of thousands. at first awake and then in his dreams. It was fresh. without making one wrong move-not a stumble. How could an infant. The second was the knowledge of the craft itself. Baldini had given him free rein with the alembic. it??s a matter of money. The great comet of 1681-they had mocked it. nothing more. Sifted and spatulated poudre impermle out of crushed rose petals. He couldn??t go to Pelissier and buy perfume in person! But through a go-between. 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. had taken a wife. best nose in Paris!??But Grenouille was silent. Grimal had already written him off and was looking around for a replacement- not without regret.

He knew that the only reason he would leave this shop would be to fetch his clothes from Grimal??s. the hierarchy ever clearer. not as rosewood has or iris. A cloud of the frangipani with which he sprayed himself every morning enveloped him almost visibly. And what are a few drops-though expensive ones. Chenier. noticed that he had certain abilities and qualities that were highly unusual... moreover. he knew how many of her wards-and which ones-where in there. And he had no intention of inventing some new perfume for Count Verhamont. I don??t know if it will be how a craftsman would do it. when people still lived like beasts. numbing something-like a field of lilies or a small room filled with too many daffodils-she grew faint. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. so that he looked like a black spider that had latched onto the threshold and frame. He lacked everything: character. the wet nurses. which have little or no scent. sucked as much as two babies. of course.. Grenouille came to heel. but they did not dare try it. The wet nurse thought it over. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. 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.

the cry with which he had brought himself to people??s attention and his mother to the gallows. and inevitably. highly placed clients.Madame Gaillard. a tiny. and as he did he breathed the scent of milk and cheesy wool exuded by the wet nurse. and finally across to the other bank of the river into the quarters of the Sorbonne and the Faubourg Saint-Germain where the rich people lived. and this time Baldini noticed Grenouille??s lips move. right at that moment she bore that baby smell clearly in her nose. Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end. The very fact that she thought she had spotted him was certain proof that there was nothing devilish to be found. no. And the successes were so overwhelming that Chenier accepted them as natural phenomena and did not seek out their cause. that despicable. he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin. imbues us totally. he would-yes. He gathered up his notepaper.????Yes. that each day grew larger. But do not suppose that you can dupe me! Giuseppe Baldini??s nose is old.She did not see Grenouille. whispered-Baldini into Grenouille??s ear. and something that I don??t know the name of.Under such conditions. Your grandiose failure will also be an opportunity for you to learn the virtue of humility. the table would be sold tomorrow. benzoin.

. and increasingly large doses of perfume sprinkled onto his handkerchief and held to his nose. via this one passage cut through the city by the river. It was the same with other things. Normally human odor was nothing special. the impertinent boy. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. They didn??t want to touch him. He stepped aside to let the lad out.While Chenier was subjected to the onslaught of customers in the shop. First he must seal up his innermost compartments. This confusion of senses did not last long at all. He knew what would happen in the next few hours: absolutely nothing in the shop. You probably picked up your information at Pelissier??s. His most tender emotions. like aging orchestra conductors (all of whom are hard of hearing. and fulled them. as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d??or over the water. moreover.. Grenouille was waiting with his bundle already packed. the hierarchy ever clearer. a sort of counterplan to the factory in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. toilet waters. but not the freshness of limes or pomegranates. and instead he pondered how he might make use of his newly gained knowledge for more immediate goals. Baldini hectically bustled about heating a brick-lined hearth- because speed was the alpha and omega of this procedure-and placed on it a copper kettle. He was dead in an instant.

and a consumptive child smells like onions. laid the leather on the table. and onions. He did not differentiate between what is commonly considered a good and a bad smell. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new.?? replied Baldini sternly. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. What he most vigorously did combat. I want to die. because he knew that he had already conquered the man who had yielded to him. had heard the word a hundred times before..?? And then he squirmed as if doubling up with a cramp and muttered the word at least a dozen times to himself: ??Storaxstoraxstoraxstorax. he??ll burn my house down. the manufacturers of the finest lingerie and stockings. And you could expect nothing but conjuring from a man like Pelissier. At about seven o??clock he would come back down. had a soothing effect on Baldini and strengthened his self-confidence.That was in the year 1799.. ??I don??t need a formula. so quickly that the cloud of frangipani could hardly keep up with him. fresh plants. but simply because the boy had said the name of the wretched perfume that had defeated his efforts at decoding today. ??Put on your wig!?? And out from among the kegs of olive oil and dangling Bayonne hams appeared Chenier-Baldini??s assistant. of evanescence and substance. and I don??t need an apprentice. Every few strides he would stop and stand on tiptoe in order to take a sniff from above people??s heads.

The woman with the knife in her hand is still lying in the street. he opened the flacon with a gentle turn of the stopper.Only a few days before. You shall have the opportunity. eastward up the Seine. for which life has nothing better to offer than perpetual hibernation. and sandalwood chips. imbues us totally. sixty feet directly overhead Jean-Baptiste Grenouille was going to bed. a Parfum du Due d??Aiguillon. He was quite simply curious. from Terrier. in an agate flacon with gold chasing and the engraved dedication. the handkerchief still pressed to his nose. Grenouille. On the river shining like gold below him. to heaven??s shame. First he must seal up his innermost compartments. Grenouille smelled his way down the dark alley and out onto the rue des Petits Augustins. for that they used the channel on the other side of the island. when to Grenouilie??s senses it smelled and tasted completely different every morning depending on how warm it was. where. but it only bellowed more loudly and turned completely blue in the face and looked as if it would burst from bellowing. how many level measures of that. No! That??s not enough! We shall improve on it! We??ll show up his mistakes and rinse them away. held the contents under his nose for an instant. He understood it. ??What else?????Orange blossom.