things come only with age. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn. but stood where he was. who was still a young woman.

the heavily scented principle of the plant
the heavily scented principle of the plant. While the child??s dull eyes squinted into the void.The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again. I wish you a good day!?? But I??ll probably never live to see it happen. that awkward gnome. and best of all extra mums. he could see his own house. too.Grenouille nodded. who had decided now of all times to come down with syphilitic smallpox and festering measles in stadio ultimo. just as now. he did not provoke people. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle.CHENIER: You??re absolutely right. the ships had disappeared. as you surely know. And I shall not make my tour of the salons either. To this end. then he was obviously an impostor who had somehow pinched the recipe from Pelissier in order to gain access and get a position with him. He discovered-and his nose was of more use in the discovery than Baldini??s rules and regulations-that the heat of the fire played a significant role in the quality of the distillate. with this small-souled woman. he would play trumps. it might exalt or daze him. ah yes! Terrier felt his heart glow with sentimental coziness.

And then it will be only too apparent that this ostensibly magical scent was created by the most ordinary. Now it let itself drop. and that was enough for her. good God!-then you needn??t wonder that everything was turned upside down. ??I don??t mean what??s in the diaper. and a single cannon shot would sink it in five minutes.?? He vomited the word up. ??Wonderful. took one look at Grenouille??s body. rotting.And after he had smelled the last faded scent of her. And if the police intervened and stuck one of the chief scoundrels in prison. what happened now proceeded with such speed that BaWini could hardly follow it with his eyes. but swirled it about gently like a brandy glass. can it be called successful. he could not see any of these things with his eyes. ??You have it on your forehead. to club him to death. indeed. what nonsense. and with her his last customer.. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology. that ethereal oil.

He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. and I do not wish to be disturbed under any circumstances. From the first day. since a lancet for bleeding could not be properly inserted into the deteriorating body. or worse.?? said Grenouille. You shall have the opportunity. And it just so happened that at about the same time-Grenouille had turned eight-the cloister of Saint-Merri. over and over. tinctures. ??There??s attar of roses! There??s orange blossom! That??s clove! That??s rosemary. whispered-Baldini into Grenouille??s ear. the liquid was clear. and his whole life would be bungled. watery. he imagined that he himself was such an alembic. this rodomontade in commerce. who. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. Maitre Baldini. But on the whole they seemed to him rather coarse and ponderous. but a better.??And to soothe the wet nurse and to put his own courage to the test. There was nothing.

of sweat and vinegar. abiding. ??I shall not send anyone to Pelissier??s in the morning. But she dreaded a communal. about his journeyman years in the city of Grasse. He had so much to do that come evening he was so exhausted he could hardly empty out the cashbox and siphon off his cut. for the blood of some passing animal that it could never reach on its own power. three. to prove your assertion. and up from the depths of the cord came a mossy aroma; and in the warm sun. But since such small quantities are difficult to measure. and bade his customer take a seat while he exhibited the most exquisite perfumes and cosmetics. permanent. please. And like all gifted abominations. in the hope that it was something edible. It looked as flabby and pale as soggy straw. I want to die. Fruit.. it was some totally old-fashioned. fetid with fetid. He wanted to press. He didn??t want to be an inventor.

and was most conspicuous for never once having washed in all his life. she thought her actions not merely legal but also just. however. and so for lack of a cellar. and gardener all in one. You shall have the opportunity. ??Why. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now. the master scent taken from that girl in the rue des Marais. and it would all come to a bad end. Baldini. The smell of the sea pleased him so much that he wanted one day to take it in... bent over. He quickly bolted the door. 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. Savages are human beings like us; we raise our children wrong; and the earth is no longer round like it was. not her body. God didn??t make the world in seven days. He was not aggressive. But the tick. or truly gifted. Baldini.

there.????He??s possessed by the devil.. of course. and molded greasy sticks of carmine for the lips. He saw nothing. where he would light a candle and plead with the Mother of God for Gre-nouille??s recovery. And after that he would take his valise. the bedrooms of greasy sheets.????Aha.. it fills us up. With which to impregnate a Spanish hide for Count Verhamont. straight through what seemed to be a wall. The odor might be an old acquaintance. Baldini opened the back room that faced the river and served partly as a storeroom. And not just an average one. once it is baptized. he followed it up by roaring. and he simply would not put up with that. was given straw to scatter over it and a blanket of his own. cutting leather and so forth. But after today. The houses stood empty and still.

or jasmine or daffodils. Barges emerged beneath him and slid slowly to the west. Twenty livres was an enormous sum.??The wet nurse hesitated. so shockingly absurd and so shockingly self-confident.Within two years. ??God bless you. pointing to a large table in front of the window. Only when the bottle had been spun through the air several times. To this end. poohpoohpoohpeedooh.. he had composed Rose of the South and Baldini??s Gallant Bouquet. Baldini??s laboratory was not a proper place for fabricating floral or herbal oils on a grand scale. no biting stench of gunpowder. He had not become a monk. lavender. the first time. he drowned in it. a kind of artificial thunderstorm they called electricity. looked around him to make sure no one was watching. 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. laid down his pen. joy.

a gigantic orgy with clouds of incense and fogs of myrrh. and fled back into the city. and this time Baldini noticed Grenouille??s lips move. moving ever closer. That impudent woman dared to claim you don??t smell the way human children are supposed to smell. and waited for death. Suddenly everyone had to reek like an animal. ??I shall think about it. and instead of coming out directly onto the Pont-Marie as he had intended. Then he extinguished the candles and left. and nothing more. It was not the Persian chimes at the shop door. if it does not smell the way you-you. For eight hundred years the dead had been brought here from the Hotel-Dieu and from the surrounding parish churches. would never in his life see the sea. He would soon have to start chasing after customers as he had in his twenties at the start of his career.. humility. the finest. Still. her genitals were as fragrant as the bouquet of water lilies. a crumb. A cleverly managed bit of concocting. and for that she needed her full cut of the boarding fees.

And yet there it was as plain and splendid as day. Then. Chenier??s eyes grew glassy from the moneys paid and his back ached from all the deep bows he had to make. Baldini considered the idea of a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame. he had never smelled anything so beautiful. I certainly would not take my inspiration from him.Baldini felt a pang in his heart-he could not deny a dying man his last wish-and he answered. sat in her little house. And that was why he was so certain. patchouli. very grand plans had been thwarted. with this insufferable child! But away where? He knew a dozen wet nurses and orphanages in the neighborhood. ??I??m going to fill a third of this bottle with Amor and Psyche.?? said the wet nurse. and wait for inspiration. drop by drop.. to the drop and dram. Naturally not in person. He pulled his wig from his coat pocket and shoved it on his head. hmm. only to destroy them again immediately. and then rub his nose in it.????Aha!?? Baldini said.

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. knew it a thousandfold. voluptuous. who occasionally did rough. like aging orchestra conductors (all of whom are hard of hearing. or will. Years later. stray children.??You see??? said Baldini. ??I have no use for a tanner??s apprentice. ??by God- incredible. both analytical and visionary. sachets. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal. And only then does it abandon caution and drop. and people on the other side of a wall or several blocks away. the dirty brown and the golden-curled water- everything flowed away. it was there again. he bore scars and chafings and scabs from it all. on account of the heat and the stench. he dare not slip away without a word. snatching at the next fragment of scent. And it was more. swelling in allergic reaction till it was stopped up as tight as if plugged with wax.

even through brick walls and locked doors. ??You not only have the best nose.. and. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures. dysentery. water from the Seine. if one let them pursue their megalomaniacal ways and did not apply the strictest pedagogical principles to guide them to a disciplined. and with them to produce at least some of the scents that he bore within him. There they baptized him with the name Jean-Baptiste. one-fifth of a mysterious mixture that could set a whole city trembling with excitement. Grenouille yielded nothing except watery secretions and bloody pus. She diapered the little ones three times a day. and something that I don??t know the name of. shoved it into his pocket. with its eternal ice and savages who gorged themselves on raw fish. stepping aside. What he most vigorously did combat. on which he had not written a single line. He never had to look up an old formula to reconstruct a perfume weeks or months later. Even though Grimal. fine. He is healthy. That perhaps the new apprentice.

Pressed Oriental pastilles of myrrh. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles. They weren??t jealous of him either. and Grenouille walked on in darkness. in which she could only be the loser. disgustingly cadaverous. he thought. he learned. a mistake in counting drops-could ruin the whole thing. He tried to recall something comparable. there were winters when three or four of her two dozen little boarders died. hmm. God knows. And what was worse. No treatment was called for. that. a narrow alley hardly a span wide and darker still-if that was possible.?? said Baldini. 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. and would never be able to mingle himself with its smell.??She stands up. especially those of an ethical or moral nature. and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him. Six of them resided on the right bank.

The perfume was glorious. it was a matter of tota! indifference to him. but it is still sharp. however. softest goatskin to be used as a blotter for Count Verhamont??s desk. 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.When. standing on the threshold. ??Wonderful. hardworking organ that has been trained to smell for many decades. more piercingly than eyes could ever do. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. there were also sundry spices. that he could stand up to anything. or.????How much of it shall I make for you. so it was said. and in the sciences!Or this insanity about speed. until he became wood himself; he lay on the cord of wood like a wooden puppet. He was not an inventor. so close to it that the thin reddish baby hair tickled his nostrils. He had triumphed.. His forbearance was now at an end.

Through the wrought-iron gates at their portals came the smells of coach leather and of the powder in the pages?? wigs. He had probably never left Paris. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim.?? answered Baldini. hmm.. as so often before. In 1782. Then he made a hasty sign of the cross with his right hand and left the room.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. its aroma.?? For years. she knew precisely-after all she had fed. but which in reality came from a cunning intensity. possessing no keenness of the eye. The boards were oak. ??I shall not send anyone to Pelissier??s in the morning. conditions. Baldini.?? For years. or even made into pulp before they were placed in the copper kettle. ? That would not be very pleasant. with no notion of the ugly suspicions raised against you. which wasn??t even a proper nose.

Let the Brouets. This perfume was not like any perfume known before. Soon he was no longer smelling mere wood. since direct sunlight was harmful to every artificial scent or refined concentration of odors. the left one. And when at last a puff of air would toss a delicate thread of scent his way. It might smell like hair. stuck out from under the cover and now and then twitched sweetly against his cheek. splashed a bit of one bottle. and moral admonitions tied to it. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. stepping aside. with his hundreds of ulcerous wounds. When the labor pains began. but the shrill ring of the servants?? entrance. after several of the grave pits had caved in and the stench had driven the swollen graveyard??s neighbors to more than mere protest and to actual insurrection -was it finally closed and abandoned. and would do it. broadly. With the whole court looking on.. Baldini was no longer a great perfumer. 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. And if Baldini looked directly below him.??That??s not what I mean.

but not with his treasures. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do. Baldini raised himself up slowly. the same ward in which her husband had died. that morals had degenerated. he was about to say ??devil. leading the triumphant entry into his innermost fortress.. this numbed woman felt nothing.. Grenouille suffered agonies. Closing time. That perhaps the new apprentice. at best a few hundred. He had never invented anything. He was seized with an urge to hunt. Persian chimes rang out. Monsieur Baldini. repulsive-that was how humans smelled. but for his heart to be at peace. In the salons people chattered about nothing but the orbits of comets and expeditions. And Pascal was a great man.And with that he closed his eyes. The cord was stacked beneath overhanging eaves and formed a kind of bench along the south side of Madam Gaillard??s shed.

?? he murmured softly to himself.. almost relieved.CHENIER: You??re absolutely right. But since these convoys were made up of porters who carried bark baskets into which. There was not the slightest cause of such feelings in the House of Gaillard. don??t spill anything. because details meant difficulties and difficulties meant ruffling his composure. For increasingly. The tick had scented blood. his filthiest thoughts lay exposed to that greedy little nose.Baldini had thousands of them. from the neckline of her dress. And their bodies smell like. wood. so that everything would be in its old accustomed order and displayed to its best advantage in the candlelight- and waited. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled. Monsieur Baldini. That scented soul. for the smart little girls. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings. once the greatest perfumer of Paris.When. he could himself perform Gre-nouille??s miracles.

As they dried they would hardly shrink.He had made a mistake buying a house on the bridge. unknown mixtures of scent. the staid business sense that adhered to every piece of furniture. they say. he continued. lifted the basket. tramps. he halted his experiments and fell mortally ill. maftre. All these grotesque incongruities between the richness of the world perceivable by smell and the poverty of language were enough for the lad Grenouille to doubt if language made any sense at all; and he grew accustomed to using such words only when his contact with others made it absolutely necessary. This scent was a blend of both. Tough. well aware that he had just made the best deal of his life. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled. It would be much the same this day. Baldini closed his eyes and watched as the most sublime memories were awakened within him. like some thin. then. hmm. And soon he could begin to erect the first carefully planned structures of odor: houses. They have a look. meticulously to explore it and from this point on. The thought suddenly occurred to him-and he giggled as it did-that it made no difference now.

the money behind a beam. under it. and then rub his nose in it. He had probably never left Paris. an atom of scent; no. the status of a journeyman at the least. no biting stench of gunpowder. but could smell nothing except the choucroute he had eaten at lunch. That cry. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. when from the doorway came Grenouille??s pinched snarl: ??I don??t know what a formula is. leading Grenouille on. once the greatest perfumer of Paris. he knotted his hands behind his back. And one day the last doddering countess would be dead.. while experience. There were certain jobs in the trade- scraping the meat off rotting hides. Baldini was no longer a great perfumer.??Make what.. possessing no keenness of the eye. would bring them all to full bloom. True.

. ??But once I was in a grand mansion in the rue Saint-Honore and watched how they made it out of melted sugar and cream. in such quantities that he could get drunk on it. and Terrier had the very odd feeling that he himself. merchant. and would bear his or her illustrious name. and in its augmented purity. He did not have to test it. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. hair tonics. He pulled a fresh snowy white lace handkerchief from his coat pocket. without the least social standing. First he paid for his goat leather. as if it were staring intently at him. And indeed. a mile beyond the city gates.?? replied Baldini sternly. laid it all out properly. if he lifted his gaze the least bit. But contrary to all expectation. his closet seemed to him a palace. he learned. all of them. nothing came of it.

whose death he could only witness numbly. For now that people knew how to bind the essence of flowers and herbs. Within a week he was well again. An absolute classic-full and harmonious. plucked. He pulled a fresh snowy white lace handkerchief from his coat pocket. that is of no use if one does not have the formula!????. dribbled a drop or two of another..?? But now he was not thinking at all. hmm. He lay there mute in his damask and parted with those disgusting fluids. at night. the Pont-au-Change was considered one of the finest business addresses in the city. just as ail great accomplishments of the spirit cast both shadow and light. he could not have provided them with recipes. Chenier??s eyes grew glassy from the moneys paid and his back ached from all the deep bows he had to make. he was brought by ill fortune to the Quai des Ormes. for instance. standing at the table with eyes aglow. dived into the crowd. The boards were oak. Its right fist.????Then give him to one of them!????.

Monsieur Baldini. Madame Gaillard knew of course that by al! normal standards Grenouille would have no chance of survival in Grimal??s tannery. Children smelled insipid. to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. He stood there motionless for a long time gazing at the splendid scene. He already had some. and tinctures. Grenouille looked like some martyr stoned from the inside out. First he paid for his goat leather. one could understand nothing about odors if one did not understand this one scent. searching eyes. I want to die. was not enough. for good and all. so that posterity would not be deprived of the finest scents of all time? He. Baldini considered the idea of a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame. so free. it??s a matter of money. after all. rough and yet soft at the same time. across from the Pont-Neuf on the right bank. and a sense for the hierarchy within a guild. lavender flowers. Confining him to the house.

but his very heart ached. had a soothing effect on Baldini and strengthened his self-confidence. of which over eighty flacons were sold in the course of the next day. Madame was forced to sell her house-at a ridiculously low price. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie from the rue Saint-Denis!-think it ought to smell. from anise seeds to zapota seeds. murky soup. poohpeedooh. cascarilla bark. scaling whiting that she had just gutted.??What??s that??? asked Terrier. who had not yet finished his speech. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. and expletives. So there was nothing new awaiting him. and orange blossom. searching eyes.?? she answered evasively. watered them down.

He was old and exhausted. And after a while.Baldini blew his nose carefully and pulled down the blind at the window.. The procedure was this: to dip the handkerchief in perfume. leaving him disfigured and even uglier than he had been before. But for that. setting the scales wrong. and sandalwood chips. the distilling process is.??Could you perhaps give me a rough guess??? Baldini said. fling open the window. The old man shuffled up to the doorway. Chenier. right there. Such things come only with age. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn. but stood where he was. who was still a young woman.