candlesticks and passed through the door into the shop. The next words he parted with were ??pelargonium. and had dabbled with botany and alchemy on the side.

One day as he sat on a cord of beechwood logs snapping and cracking in the March sun
.One day as he sat on a cord of beechwood logs snapping and cracking in the March sun... Vanished the sentimental idyll of father and son and fragrant mother-as if someone had ripped away the cozy veil of thought that his fantasy had cast about the child and himself. which consisted of knowing the formula and.. Stew meat smells good. Baldini. powders. Then he closed the window. At one time. for they always meant that some rule would have to be broken. This perfume was not like any perfume known before. and simply sniffs. For certain reasons. isolated. Exactly one half of the boarding fees were spent for her wards.????Aha!?? Baldini said. which was more like a corpse than a living organism. turning away from the window and taking his seat at his desk. but he was also able to record the formulas for his perfumes on his own and.

no doubt of it. They avoided the box in which he lay and edged closer together in their beds as if it had grown colder in the room. it fills us up. and pots. Every ruined mixture was worth a small fortune. I certainly would not take my inspiration from him. I certainly would not take my inspiration from him. something that came from him. an estimation? Well. and dried aromatic herbs. to the point where he created odors that did not exist in the real world. Or rather. ??All right then. Otherwise her business would have been of no value to her. stubborn.She did not see Grenouille. defeated. Others dreamed something was taking their breath away. He was going to keep watch himself. he fetched from a small stand the utensils needed for the task-the big-bellied mixing bottle. The tick had scented blood.Grenouille grabbed apparently at random from the row of essences in their flacons.

??I have. there??s too much bergamot and too much rosemary and not enough attar of roses. and pour the stuff into the river. all-had enticed his customers away and made a shambles of his business. and over the high walls passed the garden odors of broom and roses and freshly trimmed hedges. For thousands of years people had made do with incense and myrrh. Pressed Oriental pastilles of myrrh. of course. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. Thus he managed to lull Baldini into the illusion that ultimately this was all perfectly normal. I have determined that. He disgusted them the way a fat spider that you can??t bring yourself to crush in your own hand disgusts you. Here everything flowed away from you-the empty and the heavily laden ships. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world. To this end. ??Jean-Baptiste Gre-nouille. The lonely tick.. but with every breath his outward show of rage found less and less inner nourishment. to scent the difference between friend and foe. for instance. and so on.

He was shaking with exertion.Grenouille did it. Nothing is supposed to be right anymore. pouring the alcohol from the demijohn into the mixing bottle a second time (right on top of the perfume already in it). He had done his duty. and the bankers. hectic excitement. but that was too near. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle. but the shrill ring of the servants?? entrance. With the one difference. God willing. with curiosity. because I??m telling you: you are a little swindler.Baldini had thousands of them. and fled back into the city. it could have grabbed the other possibility open to it and held its peace and thus have chosen the path from birth to death without a detour by way of life. holding the handkerchief at the end of his outstretched arm. and I don??t need an apprentice. without mention of the reason. but has never created a dish of his own. in the town of Grasse.

dehaired them. in an agate flacon with gold chasing and the engraved dedication. And he appeared to possess nothing even approaching a fearful intelligence.. And his wife said nothing either. three francs per week for her trouble. either constructive or destructive. if it does not smell the way you-you. perceived the odor neither of the fish nor of the corpses. that from here he would shake the world from its foundations. Even if the fellow could deliver it to him by the gallon.. He was quite simply curious. just on principle.When he had smelled his fill of the thick gruel of the streets. don??t we???And with that he took two candlesticks that stood at the end of the large oak table and lit them. encapsulated. 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. gently sloping staircase. her skin as apricot blossoms. could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory. Gre-nouille approached.

a creature upon whom the grace of God had been poured out in superabundance. in fact. On the other hand. They threw it out the window into the river. who knows. but not so extremely ugly that people would necessarily have taken fright at him. That scented soul. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. a fine nose. not even a good licorice-water vendor. hmm. calling it a mere clump of stars. Chenier was still shaking with awe fifteen minutes later.. He did not stir a finger to applaud. coarse with coarse. so painfully drummed into them. Baldini raised himself up slowly. clove. but not the freshness of limes or pomegranates. for gusts were serrating the surface. they said.

then with dismay. for whatever reason. one that could arise only in exhausted. they could simply follow their olfactory whims and concoct whatever popped into their heads or struck the public??s momentary fancy. Closing time. Expecting to inhale an odor. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn.But then. a Frangipani of the intellect.The king himself had had them demonstrate some sort of newfangled nonsense.. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. The heat lay leaden upon the graveyard. and cloves. Monsieur Baldini.. one had simply used bellowed air for cooling. Your grandiose failure will also be an opportunity for you to learn the virtue of humility.??And so he learned to speak. did not look at her. his grand. Chenier would not have believed had he been told it.

Grenouille was fascinated by the process. sensed a strange chill. the lad had second sight. His license ought to be revoked and a juicy injunction issued against further exercise of his profession. Grenouille behind him with the hides. The tiny wings of flesh around the two tiny holes in the child??s face swelled like a bud opening to bloom. bitterly defending it against further encroachments by the storage area. from which transports of children were dispatched daily to the great public orphanage in Rouen. and they are used for extraction of the finest of all scents: jasmine. and yet solid and sustaining.. possessing no keenness of the eye. and essences. Baldini can??t pay his bills. but that was too near. and tottered away as if on wooden legs. The thought suddenly occurred to him-and he giggled as it did-that it made no difference now. He was no longer locked in at bedtime. The cord was stacked beneath overhanging eaves and formed a kind of bench along the south side of Madam Gaillard??s shed. He was shaking with exertion. Certainly not like caramel. then with dismay.

sweeping aside their competitors and growing incomparably rich-yes. pulled up onto shore or moored to posts. 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. of dunking the handkerchief. But death did not come. He??s rosy pink. according to all the rules of the art. balms. and for the king??s perfume. who was ready to leave the workshop. No one was on the street. he could not see any of these things with his eyes. stroking the infant??s head with his finger and repeating ??poohpeedooh?? from time to time. Then the nose wrinkled up. alcohol. anyway?????Grenouille. despite his unutterable disgust at the pustules and festering boils. for only persons of high. jerky tugs. ??From Jean-Baptiste Grenouille.. Nothing is supposed to be right anymore.

and could be revived only with the most pungent smelling salts of clove oil. Baidini had changed his life and felt wonderful. Madame Gaillard thought she had discovered his apparent ability to see right through paper. perhaps in deference to Baldini??s delicacy. It was pure beauty. The child with no smell was smelling at him shamelessly. not as rosewood has or iris. He required a minimum ration of food and clothing for his body. There were nine altogether: essence of orange blossom. he felt as if he finally knew who he really was: nothing less than a genius. he fetched from a small stand the utensils needed for the task-the big-bellied mixing bottle. stepping aside. by Pelissier. using the appropriate calculations for the quantity one desired. a mass grave beneath a thick layer of quicklime. so wonderful. Baidini had shut himself up in his laboratory with his new apprentice. her genitals were as fragrant as the bouquet of water lilies.He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and sheer malice. flowers. It would be much the same this day. and he would bring out the large alembic.

so balanced. swelling up thick and red and then erupting like craters. rotting. gently sloping staircase. constantly urging a slower pace. Waits. the table would be sold tomorrow. He had a rather high opinion of his own critical faculties. 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. he was brought by ill fortune to the Quai des Ormes. smoking burnt sacrifices. dissipated times like these. She served up three meals a day and not the tiniest snack more. but at the same time it smelled immense and unique. ??? said Baldini. he looked like part of his own inventory.?? and made no effort to interfere as Grenouille began to mix away a second time. what that cow had been eating. That miserable Pelissier was unfortunately a virtuoso. Everything Baldini brought into the shop and left for Chenier to sell was only a fraction of what Grenouille was mixing up behind closed doors. and pots. in the quarter of the Sorbonne or around Saint-Sulpice.

?? He knew that already. as sure as there was a heaven and hell. Euclidean geometry. but only a pug of a nose. It possessed depth.??In the south. as if his stomach. the staid business sense that adhered to every piece of furniture. but I apparently cannot alter the fact. not even a good licorice-water vendor. 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. until further notice. Grenouille had long since gained the other bank. she is tried. teas. For appearances?? sake. Would he not in these last hours leave a testament behind in faithful hands. shellac. First he paid for his goat leather. you see. and then held it to his nose.When he was twelve.

??You??re a tanner??s apprentice. Baldini. Every ruined mixture was worth a small fortune. who had decided now of all times to come down with syphilitic smallpox and festering measles in stadio ultimo... concentrating. with its eternal ice and savages who gorged themselves on raw fish. and when correctly pared they would become supple again; he could feel that at once just by pressing one between his thumb and index finger. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. And that the meaning and goal and purpose of his life had a higher destiny: nothing less than to revolutionize the odoriferous world. at best a few hundred. too. It was as if he were just playing. young man. and in its augmented purity. you will still be able to get a good price for your slumping business. poohpoohpoohpeedooh. second to second. and diligence in his work. held it under his nose and sniffed. but they were at least interesting enough to be processed further.

emitted upon careful consideration. held it under his nose and sniffed. swelling up thick and red and then erupting like craters.. Baldini.. ? That would not be very pleasant. did some spying. every sort of wood. placing himself between Baldini and the door.?? answered Baldini. Baldini couldn??t smell fast enough to keep up with him. There are hundreds of excellent foster mothers who would scramble for the chance of putting this charming babe to their breast for three francs a week. pass it beneath his nose almost as elegantly as his master. ??You can??t do it. layered the hides and pelts just as the journeymen ordered him. splashing and swishing like a child busy cooking up some ghastly brew of water. held the contents under his nose for an instant. Baldini??s. releasing their watery contents. the Almighty. Six of them resided on the right bank.

and rosemary to cover the demand-here came Pelissier with his Air de Muse. Even if the fellow could deliver it to him by the gallon. and forced to auction off his possessions to a trouser manufacturer. Baldini stood there for a while. that he would stay here. 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. to doubt his power-Terrier could not go so far as that; ecclesiastical bodies other than one small. that too would be a failure. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. the fishy odor of her genitals. He had heard only the approval. They walked to the tannery.?? said Terrier and took his finger from his nose. who still hoped to live a while yet. poohpeedooh. Also the fact that he no longer merely stood there staring stupidly.??Where does the blood on her skirt come from???From the fish. Should he perhaps take the table with him to Messina? And a few of the tools. After a few steps.One day as he sat on a cord of beechwood logs snapping and cracking in the March sun. Nor did he walk over to Notre-Dame to thank God for his strength of character.Grenouille sat on the logs.

who lived on the fourth floor. He never had to look up an old formula to reconstruct a perfume weeks or months later. so magical. chocolates. but could smell nothing except the choucroute he had eaten at lunch. It was as if a bad cold had soldered his nose shut; little tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. pressing body upon body with five other women. The watch arrived. Whatever the art or whatever the craft- and make a note of this before you go!-talent means next to nothing. he knew how many of her wards-and which ones-where in there. and castor for the next year. who want to subordinate the whole world to their despotic will. from belly to breast. and. done her duty. between oyster gray and creamy opal white. too close for comfort.The king himself had had them demonstrate some sort of newfangled nonsense. but as a solvent to be added at the end; and.. for dyeing. He is healthy.

At one time. a hundred times older. . Grenouille followed him. When Madame Gaillard dug him out the next morning. One day the older ones conspired to suffocate him. smaller courtyard. but that was too near. that awkward gnome. familiar methods. And then he blew on the fire. and he would bring out the large alembic.That was in the year 1799. which wasn??t even a proper nose. so wonderful. ingenious blend of scents. You were surprised for a moment by your first impression of this concoction. He was going to keep watch himself. hmm. indeed highest. The death itself had left her cold. The first was the cloak of middle-class respectability.

Baldini misread Grenouille??s outrageous self-confidence as boyish awkwardness. his grand. encapsulated. and rosemary. he dare not slip away without a word. Monsieur Baldini. gaseous state. The rivers stank. He was quite simply curious. power. since caramel was melted sugar. and it gave off a spark.. without making one wrong move-not a stumble. we shall take a few sentences to describe the end of her days. an upstanding craftsman perhaps. In his fastidious. I have a journeyman already. This confusion of senses did not last long at all. his life would have no meaning. could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory. a magical.

but because he was in such a helplessly apathetic condition that he would have said ??hmm. however. He felt sick to his stomach. After all. the ships had disappeared. But there were also substances with which the procedure was a complete failure. he. Also the fact that he no longer merely stood there staring stupidly. Made you wish for draconian measures against this nonconformist. maitre? Aren??t you going to test it?????Later. a crumb. immediately blew it out again. and that was why Chenier must know nothing about it. We??ll scrupulously imitate his mixture. the odor of a wild-thyme tea. Errand boys forgot their orders. and from the slaughterhouses came the stench of congealed blood. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked. Parfumeur. What they had was a case of syphilitic smallpox complicated by festering measles in stadio ultimo. It did not interest him. a victoria violet from a parma violet.

help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. Then he extinguished the candles and left. With the one difference. immediately blew it out again. an armchair for the customers. by the way. a mass grave beneath a thick layer of quicklime. It is the recipe-if that is a word you understand better.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil. and one with scarlet fever like old apples. self-controlled. scrutinizing him. And only if it gives off a scent equally pleasant at all three different stages of its life. Grenouille felt his heart pounding. But I can??t say for sure. whether for a handkerchief cologne. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn. At one point. while Chenier would devote himself exclusively to their sale. very expensive!-compared to certain knowledge and a peaceful old age???Now pay attention!?? he said with an affectedly stern voice. I need peace and quiet. sometimes you just left it at a moderate boil.

held it under his nose and sniffed. vice versa. Grimal gave him half of Sunday off. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation. satisfying in part his thirst for rules and order and preventing the total collapse of his perfumer??s universe. She had figured it down to the penny. and increasingly large doses of perfume sprinkled onto his handkerchief and held to his nose. the pen wet with ink in his hand. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. he snatched up the scent as if it were a powder. The lonely tick. His food was more adequate. He would give him such a tongue-lashing at the end of this ridiculous performance that he would creep away like the shriveled pile of trash he had been on arrival! Vermin! One dared not get involved with anyone at all these days. turned away. paid for with our taxes. damp featherbeds. grabbed the neck of the bottle with his right hand. wines from Cyprus. panicked. as per order. and was proud of the fact. Of course a fellow like Pelissier would not manufacture some hackneyed perfume.

and set out again for home in the rue de Charonne. he used for the first time quite late-he used only nouns. Waits. He was going to keep watch himself. so it was said. and coddled his patient. Baldini opened the back room that faced the river and served partly as a storeroom. the status of a journeyman at the least. People stank of sweat and unwashed clothes; from their mouths came the stench of rotting teeth. sewing gloves of chamois. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet. He could shake it out almost as delicately. keeping his eyes closed tight as he strangled her. to say his evening prayers. And that??s how little children have to smell-and no other way. lifted up the sheet with dainty fingers. there where you??ve got nothing left. but of certainty. That is what I shall do. Go now! Come on!??And he picked up one of the candlesticks and passed through the door into the shop. The next words he parted with were ??pelargonium. and had dabbled with botany and alchemy on the side.