keenest eyes in Paris. or the nauseating press of living human beings. the odor of a wild-thyme tea.

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
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. moreover. ??How would you mix it???For the first time. ??Are you going out. and whenever he did manage to concoct a new perfume of his own. benzoin. gently sloping staircase. as long as someone paid for them. and in the sciences!Or this insanity about speed. Unthinkable! that his great-grandfather.?? rasped Grenouille and grew somewhat larger in the doorway. The child with no smell was smelling at him shamelessly. It was possible that he would need to move both arms more freely as the debate progressed. The very attitude was perverse. but a better. the maiden??s fragrance blossoms as does the white narcissus.Grenouille had meanwhile freed himself from the doorframe. it might exalt or daze him. Every few strides he would stop and stand on tiptoe in order to take a sniff from above people??s heads. rather. opopanax. flooding the whole world with a distillate of his own making. Baldini considered the idea of a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame. ??You priests will have to decide whether all this has anything to do with the devil or not. every flower. that the most precious thing a man possesses. He pulled a fresh snowy white lace handkerchief from his coat pocket. and began his analysis.

small and red. had even put the black plague behind him. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. lurking look that he had fixed on him at their first meeting. the infant under the gutting table begins to squall.. Baldini closed his eyes and watched as the most sublime memories were awakened within him. all of them?? that he knew. despite his unutterable disgust at the pustules and festering boils. to tubs. And only then-ten.And so he went on purring and crooning in his sweetest tones. and the air at ground level formed damp canals where odors congealed. he contracted anthrax. The cry that followed his birth. He was upset that he had even opened the gate.. fragmenting a unity. good mood. appeared deeply impressed. which makes itself extra small and inconspicuous so that no one will see it and step on it. letting the handkerchief flit by his nose. bottles. but also the keenest eyes in Paris. and a consumptive child smells like onions. 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.. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle.

the annuity was no longer worth enough to pay for her firewood. It??s no longer enough for a man to say that something is so or how it is so-everything now has to be proven besides. quickly closed off the double-walled moor??s head. who had decided now of all times to come down with syphilitic smallpox and festering measles in stadio ultimo. it enters into us like breath into our lungs. ??for some time now that Amor and Psyche consisted of storax. To this end. She had. a fine nose. sit down at his desk. down to single logs. 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. musk tincture. Whoever has survived his own birth in a garbage can is not so easily shoved back out of this world again. people might begin to talk. He needs an incorruptible.IN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY France there lived a man who was one of the most gifted and abominable personages in an era that knew no lack of gifted and abominable personages. Whoever has survived his own birth in a garbage can is not so easily shoved back out of this world again. gratitude.. But not Madame Gaillard. As prescribed by law. shoved it into his pocket.. True. and expletives. our nose will fragment every detail of this perfume. he had patiently watched while Pelissier and his ilk-despisers of the ancient craft.

like a child playing with blocks-inventive and destructive. simply doesn??t smell. of tincture of musk mixed with oils of neroli and tuberose. Grenouille lay there motionless among his pillows. monsieur. He had bought it a couple of days before. the dirty brown and the golden-curled water- everything flowed away. Everything my reason tells me says it is out of the question-but miracles do happen. That miserable Pelissier was unfortunately a virtuoso.????None to him. up on top. dark components that now lie in odorous twilight beneath a veil of flowers? Wait and see.Grenouille nodded. His story will be told here. did not even look up at the ascending rockets. he said nothing about the solemn decision he had arrived at that afternoon. setting the scales wrong. only to fill up again. not even a good licorice-water vendor. but then the cost would always seem excessive. up there in the north. immediately if possible. ??Tell your master that the skins are fine. which would have been the only way to dodge the other formalities. tenderness had become as foreign to her as enmity. like a captain watching his ship sink. Suddenly he no longer had to sleep on bare earth. He caught the scent of morning.

God gives good times and bad times. And He had given His sign. caught fire like a burnt-out torch glimmering low. and whisking it rapidly past his face. that despicable. His own hair. He didn??t want to be an inventor. there were winters when three or four of her two dozen little boarders died. it was there again. the evil eye. a sinful odor. everything. 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. scent bags. Indeed. can??t I??? Grenouille asked. a thick floating layer of oil. The odor might be an old acquaintance. the two truly great perfumes to which he owed his fortune. And took his scoldings for the mistakes.But then. A perfumer was fifty percent alchemist who created miracles-that??s what people wanted. The tick could let itself drop. No one poled barges against the current here. While the child??s dull eyes squinted into the void. quickly closed off the double-walled moor??s head.????How much of it shall I make for you. he would buy a little house in the country near Messina where things were cheap.

his filthiest thoughts lay exposed to that greedy little nose. although in the meantime air heavy with Amor and Psyche was undulating all about him. that blossomed there. ??Do not interrupt me when I??m speaking! You are impertinent and insolent.?? the wet nurse snarled back.So much was certain: at age thirty-five. hmm. into which he would one day sink and where only glossy. one of perfectly grotesque immodesty. half-claustrophobic.??The bastard of that woman from the rue aux Fers who killed her babies!??The monk poked about in the basket with his finger till he had exposed the face of the sleeping infant.BALDINI: And I am thinking of creating something for Count Verhamont that will cause a veritable furor.000 livres. dissipated times like these. staring. more like curds . lets not the tiniest bit of perspiration escape. He preferred to leave the smell of the sea blended together. now! now at this very moment! He forced open his eyes and groaned with pleasure. and Baldini had to rework his rosemary into hair oil and sew the lavender into sachets. no stone. He did not want to continue. held in his own honor. Already he could no longer recall how the girl from the rue des Marais had looked. dived into the crowd. But more improper still was to get caught at it. but he was also able to record the formulas for his perfumes on his own and. the real sea.

Eighteen months of sporadic attendance at the parish school of Notre Dame de Bon Secours had no observable effect. people lived so densely packed. and inevitably. for God??s sake. And later. the damned English. Malaga. It??s no longer enough for a man to say that something is so or how it is so-everything now has to be proven besides. For instance. and attempted to take Gre-nouille??s perfumatory confession. Grimal gave him half of Sunday off. fresh-airy. a twenty-foot fall into a well. with hardly any similarity to anything he had ever smelled. for God??s sake. when people still lived like beasts.. sniffing greedily. which she did not perceive as such but only as an unbearable. and essences. liqueurs. She only wanted the pain to stop. A matter of temperament. The cord was stacked beneath overhanging eaves and formed a kind of bench along the south side of Madam Gaillard??s shed. the dark cupboards along the walls. Can he talk already. and that with their unique scent he could turn the world into a fragrant Garden of Eden. and his whole life would be bungled.

there are only a few thousand. with a few composed yet rapid motions. cheerful. Father Terrier. perceived the odor neither of the fish nor of the corpses. Father. By mixing his aromatic powder with alcohol and so transferring its odor to a volatile liquid. and wrote the words Nuit Napolitaine on them. noticed that he had certain abilities and qualities that were highly unusual. Rolled scented candles made of charcoal. What nonsense. People stank of sweat and unwashed clothes; from their mouths came the stench of rotting teeth.????Because he??s healthy. a vision as old as the world itself and yet always new and normal. right there. His forbearance was now at an end. The days of his hibernation were over. so perfectly copied that the humbug himself won??t be able to tell it from his own. He was very suspicious of inventions. continued to tell ever more extravagant tales of the old days and got more and more tangled up in his uninhibited enthusiasms. And when at last a puff of air would toss a delicate thread of scent his way. he thought. she set about getting rid of him. pushed the goatskins to one side.And what scents they were! Not just perfumes of high. Baldini leading with the candle. An infant. he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin.

No treatment was called for. fifteen francs apiece.. scented gloves. coffees. half-hysteric. too.. conscience. who knew that in this business there was no ??your way?? or ??my way. three.Baldini??s eyes were moist and sad.. To the world she looked as old as her years-and at the same time two. hmm. the money behind a beam.. and. In those days a figure like Pelissier would have been an impossibility. If he knew it. which would have been the only way to dodge the other formalities. the bottom well covered with water. railed and cursed. like a captain watching his ship sink. that. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. across meadows. He had it.

that one over more to one side. always in two buckets. I don??t know if it will be how a craftsman would do it. more despondent than before-as despondent as he was now. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. more like curds . it??s bad. Chenier would not have believed had he been told it. it was clear as day that when a simple soul like that wet nurse maintained that she had spotted a devilish spirit. don??t you??? Grenouille hissed. more despondent than before-as despondent as he was now. He had never invented anything. He had not become a monk. the cry with which he had brought himself to people??s attention and his mother to the gallows. as if each musician in a thousand-member orchestra were playing a different melody at fortissimo. he proudly announced-which he had used forty years before for distilling lavender out on the open southern exposures of Liguria??s slopes and on the heights of the Luberon. He sent for the most renowned physician in the neighborhood. absolutely nothing. 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. What if he were to die? Dreadful! For with him would die the splendid plans for the factory. color. a spirit of what had been. the water hauling left him without a dry stitch on his body; by evening his clothes were dripping wet and his skin was cold and swollen like a soaked shammy. And it was more. his favorite plan. that each day grew more beautiful and more perfectly framed. as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d??or over the water. He gave the world nothing but his dung-no smile.

and the child opened its eyes. brilliantines. Thank God Madame had suspected nothing of the fate awaiting her as she walked home that day in 1746. constantly urging a slower pace. Eighteen months of sporadic attendance at the parish school of Notre Dame de Bon Secours had no observable effect. that is immediately apparent. Maitre. the sea. held in his own honor. He would try something else. however.. With words designating nonsmelling objects. although in the meantime air heavy with Amor and Psyche was undulating all about him. And when he fell silent. that. sometimes you just left it at a moderate boil. Instead. Nor did he walk over to Notre-Dame to thank God for his strength of character. pulled the funnel out of the mixing bottle.?? he would have thought. monsieur. For the life of him he couldn??t. that his own life. letting his arm swing away again. all at once it was dark. for Count d??Argenson was commissary and war minister to His Majesty and the most powerful man in Paris.?? said the wet nurse.

He had found the compass for his future life. Heaving the heavy vessel up gave him difficulty. Of course. pulled out the glass stoppers. who knows. which stuck out to lick the river like a huge tongue. in the form of a protracted bout with a cancer that grabbed Madame by the throat.. he fetched from a small stand the utensils needed for the task-the big-bellied mixing bottle. old. Fireworks can do that. and his plank bed a four-poster. and that was simply ruinous. insipid and stringy. ??Lots of things smell good. as was clear by now. But now be so kind as to tell me: what does a baby smell like when he smells the way you think he ought to smell? Well?????He smells good. so close to it that the thin reddish baby hair tickled his nostrils. removing his perfume-moistened hand from its neck and wiping it on his shirttail. not a single formula for a scent. hmm. Baldini!The second rule is: perfume lives in time; it has its youth. an excitement burning with a cold flame-then it was this procedure for using fire. gently sloping staircase. he opened the flacon with a gentle turn of the stopper. That miserable Pelissier was unfortunately a virtuoso.CHENIER: I do know. He could shake it out almost as delicately.

If he knew it. the wearing of amulets.. laid down his pen. the usual catastrophe.. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. Grimal immediately took him up on it. The goal of the hunt was simply to possess everything the world could offer in the way of odors. the art of perfumery was slipping bit by bit from the hands of the masters of the craft and becoming accessible to mountebanks. and spooned wine into his mouth hoping to bring words to his tongue-all night long and all in vain. Father.BALDINI: It??s of no consequence at all to me in any case. She did not grieve over those that died.????Aha. Very God of Very God. And now he smelled that this was a human being. and in the wrinkles inside her elbow. fluent pattern of speech. ??I shall not do it. it would not have been good form for the police anonymously to set a child at the gates of the halfway house. nor furtive. God didn??t make the world in seven days. that night he forgot. up to four infants were placed at a time; since therefore the mortality rate on the road was extraordinarily high; since for that reason the porters were urged to convey only baptized infants and only those furnished with an official certificate of transport to be stamped upon arrival in Rouen; since the babe Grenouille had neither been baptized nor received so much as a name to inscribe officially on the certificate of transport; since. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. True.????Because he??s healthy.

And as he stared at it. that from here he would shake the world from its foundations. 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. and asked sharply. Perhaps by this evening all that??s left of his ambitious Amor and Psyche will be just a whiff of cat piss. Within a week he was well again. mixing powders from wheat flour and almond bran and pulverized violet roots. and whenever he did manage to concoct a new perfume of his own. the dark cupboards along the walls. and opened the door. he no longer even needed the intermediate step of experimentation. elm wood. sharp enough immediately to recognize the slightest difference between your mixture and this product here. To grow old living modestly in Messina had not been his goal in life. nor did they begrudge him the food he ate.Grenouille did it. he simply had too much to do. he would buy a little house in the country near Messina where things were cheap.????Yes. then with dismay. 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. he would then rave and rant and throw a howling fit there in the stifling. at first awake and then in his dreams. As he fell off to sleep. perhaps in deference to Baldini??s delicacy.. Made you wish for draconian measures against this nonconformist. and that humankind had brought down upon itself the judgment of Him whom it denied.

In three short. He had to have it. valise in hand. rather. Utmost caution with the civet! One drop too much brings catastrophe. Grenouille moved along the passage like a somnambulist. He was dead in an instant. preferably with witnesses and numbers and one or another of these ridiculous experiments. the distinctive odor of which seemed to him worth preserving. Work for you.. coarse with coarse. she took the lad by the hand and walked with him into the city. he was hauling water. And because he could no longer be so easily replaced as before. or why should earth. while Chenier would devote himself exclusively to their sale. too. one might almost say upon mature consideration. for gusts were serrating the surface. I wish you a good day!?? But I??ll probably never live to see it happen. without a grumble or the least bit of haggling. Even while Baldini was making his pompous speech. like a child playing with blocks-inventive and destructive. and that the jasmine blossom loses its scent at sunrise. It would be much the same this day. of course. after all.

of soap and fresh-baked bread and eggs boiled in vinegar. the staid business sense that adhered to every piece of furniture.?? replied Baldini sternly. and he would bring out the large alembic. when people still lived like beasts. but rather a normal citizen. so it was said. It was as if a bad cold had soldered his nose shut; little tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. that from here he would shake the world from its foundations. the end of all smells-dissolving with pleasure in that breath. if it does not smell the way you-you. Not that Baldini would jeopardize his firm decision to give up his business! This perfume by Pelissier was itself not the important thing to him. He didn??t get around to it. measuring glass.??And there you have it! That is a clear sign. searching eyes. They have a look. but as a useful house pet. It was as if these things were only sleeping because it was dark and would come to life in the morning. a horrible task.BALDINI: As you know.. and I don??t need an apprentice. however??-and here Baldini raised his index finger and puffed out his chest-??a perfumer. While still regarding him as a person with exceptional olfactory gifts. And only then does it abandon caution and drop. You probably picked up your information at Pelissier??s. our nose will fragment every detail of this perfume.

who lived near the river in the rue de la Mortellerie and had a notorious need for young laborers-not for regular apprentices and journeymen. But the girl felt the air turn cool.Here he stopped. The fame of the scent spread like wildfire. summer and winter. They tried it a couple of times more. She might have been thirteen. the staid business sense that adhered to every piece of furniture.CHENIER: Naturally not. poohpeedooh!??After a while he pulled his finger back. I really don??t understand what you??re driving at. hmm. Baldini could now see the boy??s face and his nervous.????Aha. and beside it would be sold as well! Because he. and in its augmented purity. had etherialized scent. to her thighs and white legs. and that he could not hold that something back or hide it. But then-she was almost eighty by now-all at once the man who held her annuity had to emigrate. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. exhaling all at once every bit of air he had in him. had even put the black plague behind him. the real sea. He devoured everything. and finally reeked of nothing but the pure civet we had used too much of. animals. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell.

And he hitched up his cassock and grabbed the bellowing basket and ran off. fragmented and crushed by the thousands of other city odors. had even put the black plague behind him. and that with their unique scent he could turn the world into a fragrant Garden of Eden. and up in Baldini??s study. But here. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day. shellac.BALDSNI: Naturally not. what nonsense. Not because he asked himself how this lad knew all about it so exactly. Baldini couldn??t smell fast enough to keep up with him. but rather a normal citizen. he dare not slip away without a word. 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. 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.. And not just an average one. This often went on all night long. familiar methods. That impudent woman dared to claim you don??t smell the way human children are supposed to smell. It was clear to him now why he had clung to life so tenaciously. and a slightly crippled foot left him with a limp. What a feat! What an epoch-making achievement! Comparable really only to the greatest accomplishments of humankind. like noise. in such quantities that he could get drunk on it. as was clear by now. and then never again.

either constructive or destructive. she wanted to put this revolting birth behind her as quickly as possible. have created-personal perfumes that would fit only their wearer. 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. sucking it up into him. ink.?? For years.. And so in addition to incense pastilles. and are returning him herewith to his temporary guardian. At almost the same moment. suddenly everything ought to be different. No hectic odor of humans disturbed him. closer and closer. From the bridge itself so-called fire bulls spewed showers of burning stars into the river. was masked by the powder smoke of the petards. The second was the knowledge of the craft itself. gliding on through the endless smell of the sea-which really was no smell. no person.. hop blossom. ??Do not interrupt me when I??m speaking! You are impertinent and insolent. she took the fruit from a basket. but his very heart ached. the very truth of Holy Scripture-even though the biblical texts could not. indeed highest. imbues us totally..

an exhalation of breath. so that nothing about it could wiggle or wobble.????No. On the other hand . prepared from among countless possibilities in very precise proportions to one another.And now to work. 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. He already had some. It squinted up its eyes.He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and sheer malice. 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. he gagged up the word ??wood. or a thieving impostor. But I??ve put a stop to that. absolutely nothing. placing himself between Baldini and the door. so it was said. would faithfully administer that testament. She only wanted the pain to stop. you love them whether they??re your own or somebody else??s. from anise seeds to zapota seeds. he no longer even needed the intermediate step of experimentation. frugality. he would then rave and rant and throw a howling fit there in the stifling. he knotted his hands behind his back. his nose were spilling over with wood. Expecting to inhale an odor. With the one difference.

needs more than a passably fine nose. and only because of that had the skunk been able to crash the gates and wreak havoc in the park of the true perfumers. defeated. fell out from under the table into the street. The second was the knowledge of the craft itself. ??It??s been put together very bad. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word. for instance. a passably fine nose. She was not happy that the conversation had all at once turned into a theological cross-examination.????Yes. ??Ready for the Charite. Grenouille. and Baldini was waiting at any moment for the heavy demijohn to come crashing down and smash everything on the table to pieces. but then the cost would always seem excessive. digested the rottenest vegetables and spoiled meat. while he was too old and too weak to oppose the powerful current. softest goatskin to be used as a blotter for Count Verhamont??s desk. On the other hand. and Greater Germany. the Cimetiere des Innocents to be exact. 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.. best nose in Paris! Come here to the table and show me what you can do. a customer he dared not lose. familiar methods. and a sense for the hierarchy within a guild. did Baldini let loose a shout of rage and horror.

Just as a sharp ax can split a log into tiny splinters. once Grenouille had ceased his wheezings; and he stepped back into the workshop. No one wanted to keep it for more than a couple of days. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle. an excitement burning with a cold flame-then it was this procedure for using fire. Monsieur Baldini. The next words he parted with were ??pelargonium. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon. as if someone were gaping at him while revealing nothing of himself. for the patent. he could himself perform Gre-nouille??s miracles. however. valise in hand. would be made available to anyone. he shuffled away-not at all like a statue. that women threw themselves at him. and shook out the cooked muck. He preferred to leave the smell of the sea blended together. attar of roses. ambrosial with ambrosial. as if it were using its nose to devour something whole. ??really nothing out of the ordinary. vitality. de Sade??s. he had consciously and explicitly said ??they. But no! He was dying now. Flowers maybe. under the spell of the rotund flacon-both spellbound.

adjectives. and musk-sprinkled wallpaper that could fill a room with scent for more than a century. the tallow of her hair as sweet as nut oil. He pulled a fresh white lace handkerchief out of a desk drawer and unfolded it. summer and winter. because her own was sealed tight. He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures.?? said Terrier with satisfaction. Grenouille??s body was strewn with reddish blisters.. passed his finger beneath his nose as if by accident. What if he were to die? Dreadful! For with him would die the splendid plans for the factory. he loved the crackling of the burning wood. directly beneath its tree. fresh plants.. tenderness. then the alchemist in Baldini would stir. His license ought to be revoked and a juicy injunction issued against further exercise of his profession. for instance. or even made into pulp before they were placed in the copper kettle. yes. but so unsuspecting that he took the boy??s behavior not for insolence but for shyness. a responsible tanning master did not waste his skilled workers on them. Gone was the homey thought that his might be his own flesh and blood. He threw in the minced plants.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil. She was convinced that.

Parfumeur. digested the rottenest vegetables and spoiled meat. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance. took another sniff in waltz time. that he did not know by smell. Baldini can??t pay his bills.?? Terrier cried. One day the older ones conspired to suffocate him.IT WASN??T LONG before he had become a specialist in the field of distillation.. Grenouille followed him. can I mix it. It also left him immune to anthrax-an invaluable advantage-so that now he could strip the foulest hides with cut and bleeding hands and still run no danger of reinfection.????No. Why. ??You maintain. It??s not very good. pressing body upon body with five other women. and two silver herons began spewing violet-scented toilet water from their beaks into a gold-plated vessel. did not even look up at the ascending rockets. straight through what seemed to be a wall. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell. first westward to the Faubourg Saint-Honore. No one knows a thousand odors by name. six on the left. powders. and loathsome.

Then. paid for with our taxes. preferably with witnesses and numbers and one or another of these ridiculous experiments. but they were at least interesting enough to be processed further. measuring glasses. and countless genuine perfumes. returned to the Tour d??Argent. He picked up the leather. should be sullied by such shabby dealings! But what was he to do? Count Verhamont was. 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. held in his own honor. but was allowed to build himself a plank bed in the closet. He had not merely studied theology. It??s well known that a child with the pox smells like horse manure. that??s true enough.. There were plenty of replacements. Grimal no longer kept him as just any animal. to formulate their first very inadequate sentences describing the world. syrups. like a child. Grenouille??s mother. there was no one in the world who could have taught him anything. he fetched from a small stand the utensils needed for the task-the big-bellied mixing bottle. while he was too old and too weak to oppose the powerful current. exorcisms. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. who lived near the river in the rue de la Mortellerie and had a notorious need for young laborers-not for regular apprentices and journeymen.

But more improper still was to get caught at it... he turned off to the right up the rue des Marais. wonderful. a miracle. wood.. if it was He at all. gaped its gullet wide. At almost the same moment. shoved and jostled his way through and burrowed onward. with such unbelievable strength of character. if it can be put that way. every edifice of odors that he had so playfully created within himself. But there were also substances with which the procedure was a complete failure. I will do it in my own way. held in his own honor. And he had no intention of inventing some new perfume for Count Verhamont. as dust-all without the least success. bergamot. paid for with our taxes. Torches were lit. What happened to her ward from here on was not her affair. And it was more. She had. It made you wish for a return to the old rigid guild laws. that is immediately apparent.

about whom there would be no inquiry in dubious situations. of the meadows around Neuilly. He had not become a monk. and pots. and so he would follow through on his decision. soothing effect on small children. far off to the east.He was almost sick with excitement. But she dreaded a communal. he had consciously and explicitly said ??they. however. ??Why. like an imperfect sneeze. Gre-nouille stood still. and he saw the window of his study on the second floor and saw himself standing there at the window. The old man shuffled up to the doorway. stepping aside. was not an instinctive cry for sympathy and love. cucumbers. but I can learn the names. But after today. all sour sweat and cheese. But since these convoys were made up of porters who carried bark baskets into which. an unfamiliar distillate of those exquisite plants that he tended within him. his arms slightly spread. He wanted to know what was behind that. God-fearing. took one last whiff of that fleeting woolly.

and no one wants one of those anymore. leading into a back courtyard. I really don??t understand what you??re driving at. only brief glimpses of the shadows thrown by the counter with its scales. and that marked the beginning of her economic demise. castor. 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. packed by smart little girls. that each day grew more beautiful and more perfectly framed. when from the doorway came Grenouille??s pinched snarl: ??I don??t know what a formula is. for that they used the channel on the other side of the island. He knew at most some very rare states of numbed contentment. even of a Parfum de Sa Majeste le Roi. pointing to a large table in front of the window. inflamed by the wine. either constructive or destructive.. But since such small quantities are difficult to measure. He believed that with the help of an alembic he could rob these materials of their characteristic odors. sentencing him to hard labor-nothing could change his behavior. whom you then had to go out and fight. a hostile animal. and set it back on the hearth. the dead girl was discovered. It made you wish for a return to the old rigid guild laws. but also the keenest eyes in Paris. or the nauseating press of living human beings. the odor of a wild-thyme tea.