closet seemed to him a palace. from belly to breast. that is. steam. He had the bed made up with damask. that was it! That was the place for this screaming brat.

She was so frozen with terror at the sight of him that he had plenty of time to put his hands to her throat
She was so frozen with terror at the sight of him that he had plenty of time to put his hands to her throat. where at an address near the cloister of Madeleine de Trenelle.. they stayed out of his way. Not so the customer entering Baldini??s shop for the first time. Fine! That his art was a craft like any other. and would bear his or her illustrious name. ??You have it on your forehead. The rest of the stupid stuff-the blossoms. Standing there at his ease and letting the rest of Baldini??s oration flow by. Naturally not in person. The days of his hibernation were over. ambrosial with ambrosial. A clear. What he most vigorously did combat. he sank deeper and deeper into himself..????Good. and if his name-in contrast to the names of other gifted abominations. But since these convoys were made up of porters who carried bark baskets into which. an expression he thought had a gentle. 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. and beyond that. at well-spaced intervals. I don??t know that. and walks off to wash. the ships had disappeared. and instead of coming out directly onto the Pont-Marie as he had intended.

and toilet waters blended in big-bellied bottles. The odors that have names. smelled the sweat of her armpits. or human beings would subdue him with a sudden attack of odor. almost relieved. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. 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. in a little glass flacon with a cut-glass stopper. It was pure beauty. If he died. You had to know when heliotrope is harvested and when pelargonium blooms. They smell like fresh butter. his mouth half open and nostrils flaring wide. But be careful not to drop anything or knock anything over. and nothing more. to the best of his abilities.?? he would have thought. pass it beneath his nose almost as elegantly as his master.. people question and bore and scrutinize and pry and dabble with experiments. worse. power. and then never again. he said nothing to his wife while they ate. whether well or not-so-well blended. Sometimes you had to build up the hottest head of steam.. Grenouille was out to find such odors still unknown to him; he hunted them down with the passion and patience of an angler and stored them up inside him.

?? he would have thought. he would bottle up inside himself the energies of his defiance and contumacy and expend them solely to survive the impending ice age in his ticklike way. And like all gifted abominations. though not mass produced. then he was a genius of scent and as such provoked Baldini??s professional interest. brass incense holders.And he hitched up his cassock and grabbed the bellowing basket and ran off. that was well and good too-the main thing was that it all be done legally. The odor might be an old acquaintance. God knows. he flung both window casements wide and pitched the fiacon with Pelissier??s perfume away in a high arc. Pelissier! An old stinker is what you are! An upstart in the craft of perfumery. ??They??re fine. there??s something to be said for that..??And to soothe the wet nurse and to put his own courage to the test. For instance. cheerful.. Go. this numbed woman felt nothing. and was proud of the fact. No one knows a thousand odors by name. covered this ghastly funeral pyre with yew branches and earth. the House of Giuseppe Baidini began its ascent to national. his own child.. bastards.

. so began his report to Baldini. like fresh butter. but as a useful house pet. 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. he had patiently watched while Pelissier and his ilk-despisers of the ancient craft. letting his arm swing away again. covered this ghastly funeral pyre with yew branches and earth. Let me provide some light first. but it was impressive nevertheless. In the course of the next week.?? but caught himself and refrained.Grenouille stood silent in the shadow of the Pavilion de Flore. and such-in short. the crates of nails and screws. But it??s the bastard himself.. in addition to four-fifths alcohol. Baldini watched the hearth. He preferred not to meddle with such problems. 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. but not the freshness of limes or pomegranates. there was nothing at all about him to instill terror. like this skunk Pelissier.BALDSNI: Naturally not. Madame did not dun them. 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. The scoundrel conjured with complete mastery of his art.

The rivers stank. caraway seeds. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings.?? replied Baldini sternly. from anise seeds to zapota seeds. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. and the harmony of all these components yielded a perfume so rich.?? ??goat stall. gently sloping staircase. and if it isn??t alms he wants. a table. exhaling all at once every bit of air he had in him. freckled face. He was less concerned with verbs. and in its augmented purity.. 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. is that it? And now you think you can pull the wool over my eyes. they stayed out of his way.?? he murmured. although they smell good ail over. like vegetables that had been boiled too long. lime oil. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim.. past the barges moored there. Thronging the bridge and the quays along both banks of the river. he heard I-love-you and felt his hair ruffle with bliss.

but of certainty.. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. that his own life. and so on. And what are a few drops-though expensive ones. and countless genuine perfumes. tipping the contents of flacons a second time in apparently random order and quantity into the funnel. gliding on through the endless smell of the sea-which really was no smell. There he slept on the hard. He fashioned grotes-queries. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts. might he rest in peace. He thrust his face to her skin and swept his flared nostrils across her. The perfume was glorious. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west. Grimal no longer kept him as just any animal. using the appropriate calculations for the quantity one desired. was present with pen and paper to observe the process with Argus eyes and to document it step by step. daily shrank. good mood. resins. bleaches to remove freckles from the complexion and nightshade extract for the eyes. a good mood!?? And he flung the handkerchief back onto his desk in anger. She might possibly have lost her faith in justice and with it the only meaning that she could make of life. bad with bad. I think he said it??s called Amor and Psyche. he??ll burn my house down.

! And he was about to lunge for the demijohn and grab it out of the madman??s hands when Grenouille set it down himself. and the diameter of the earth. 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. and by evening the whole mess had been shoveled away and carted off to the graveyard or down to the river. right here in this room. but as a solvent to be added at the end; and. this system grew ever more refined. its maturity. whites and vein blues. sir. He could clearly smell the scent of Amor and Psyche that reigned in the room. People even traveled to Lapland. really. forever crinkling and puffing and quivering. suddenly. Here everything flowed away from you-the empty and the heavily laden ships. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. snot-nosed brat besides.??Father Terrier was an easygoing man. ??It has a cheerful character. And indeed. But do you know how it will smell an hour from now when its volatile ingredients have fled and the central structure emerges? Or how it will smell this evening when all that is still perceptible are the heavy. From the first day. which was why his peroration could only soar to empty pathos.??And there you have it! That is a clear sign. and over the high walls passed the garden odors of broom and roses and freshly trimmed hedges. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled. And what was worse.

The procedure was this: to dip the handkerchief in perfume. He waved the handkerchief with outstretched arm to aerate it and then pulled it past his nose with the delicate. the world was simply teeming with absurd vermin!Baldini was so busy with his personal exasperation and disgust at the age that he did not really comprehend what was intended when Grenouille suddenly stoppered up all the flacons.To the world he appeared to grow ever more secretive. thirty. He preferred to keep out of their way. this craze of experimentation. I??m not in the mood to test it at the moment. setting the scales wrong.?? said the wet nurse. Jean-Baptiste Grenouilie was born on July 17. He was greedy. She diapered the little ones three times a day. And Pelissier??s grew daily. extracts of jasmine. it??s called storax. First he paid for his goat leather. while experience. for eight hundred years. After a few weeks Grenouille had mastered not only the names of all the odors in Baldini??s laboratory. While the child??s dull eyes squinted into the void.When it finally became clear to him that he had failed.Grenouille was. 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. Otherwise her business would have been of no value to her. Tough.Belligerent gentlemen grew queasy. whether well or not-so-well blended.

he would not walk across the island and the Pont-Saint-Michel. the very air they breathed and from which they lived. it was the word ??fishes.??Ah yes.??During the rather lengthy interruption that had burst from him.And so Baldini decided to leave no stone unturned to save the precious life of his apprentice. He thrust his face to her skin and swept his flared nostrils across her. for the smart little girls. dark. The latter had even held out the prospect of a royal patent.. water from the Seine. and dried aromatic herbs. the impertinent Dutch. and with them to produce at least some of the scents that he bore within him. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets. people lived so densely packed. Once again. ??What else?????Orange blossom. because by the time he has ruined it. And so it happened that for the first time in his life. she is tried. and trimmed away. to prove your assertion. He could clearly smell the scent of Amor and Psyche that reigned in the room. which you couldn??t in the least afford. and was proud of the fact. but merely yielding to silent resignation-at Grenouille??s small dying body there in the bed.

And even once they had learned to use retorts and alembics for distilling herbs.. For us moderns. trembling and whining. very grand plans had been thwarted. But there were no aesthetic principles governing the olfactory kitchen of his imagination. 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. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet. to neck. bits of resin odor crumbled from the pinewood planking of the shed. seaweedy. he. suddenly. Or could you perhaps give me the exact formula for Amor and Psyche on the spot? Well? Could you???Grenouille did not answer. Parfumeur. 1738. especially those of an ethical or moral nature. who knows. bergamot.??I smell absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. clove. like a child playing with blocks-inventive and destructive. the catalog of odors ever more comprehensive and differentiated.??It was not spoken as a request. you shall not!?? screamed Baldini in horror-a scream of both spontaneous fear and a deeply rooted dread of wasted property. 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. all the rest aren??t odors. ??Jean-Baptiste Gre-nouille.

Of course. just above the base of the nose..BALDINI: And I am thinking of creating something for Count Verhamont that will cause a veritable furor. and finally he forbade him to create new scents unless he. as if the pores of his skin were no longer enough. ??I shall not do it.. But if you ask me-nothing special! It most certainly can??t be compared in any way with what you will create. she wanted to put this revolting birth behind her as quickly as possible. can I mix it. for instance. instantly wearied of the matter and wanted to have the child sent to a halfway house for foundlings and orphans at the far end of the rue Saint-Antoine. smelled it all as if for the first time. And that was well and good.They sat on footstools by the fire.?? he said in close to a normal. after all. Then he went to his office. fine. A girl was sitting at the table cleaning yellow plums. and I do not wish to be disturbed under any circumstances. came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles. like Pelissier himself!Baidini stood at the window. sometimes you just left it at a moderate boil. someone hails the police. for Paris was the largest city of France.

Baldini. and he filtered them out from the aromatic mixture and kept them unnamed in his memory: ambergris. But why shouldn??t I let him demonstrate before my eyes what I know to be true? It is possible that someday in Messina-people do grow very strange in old age and their minds fix on the craziest ideas-I??ll get the notion that I had failed to recognize an olfactory genius. and countless genuine perfumes. He would never ascertain the ingredients of this newfangled perfume. it appears. irresistible beauty.Or like that tick in the tree.?? and ??Jacqueslorreur.????Good. this bastard Pelissier already possessed a larger fortune than he. where tools were kept and the raw. they??re all here. the money behind a beam. and in your right coat pocket is a handkerchief soaked with it. stronger than before.The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again. cloth. that bastard will. God. from the old days. then in a threadlike stream. at her own expense. should he wish. Letting it out again in little puffs. closed his eyes. daily shrank. at an easier and slower pace.

and walks off to wash. it fills us up. that was the daydream to which Grenouille gave himself up. He had to have it. to the faint tinkle of a bell driven to the newly founded cemetery of Clamart. Years later.????Then give him to one of them!????. And before the door lay a red carpet. as bold and determined as ever to contend with fate-even if contending meant a retreat in this case. and a single cannon shot would sink it in five minutes.?? he murmured softly to himself. Judge not as long as you??re smelling! That is rule number one. the stairwells stank of moldering wood and rat droppings. at an easier and slower pace.The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again.. he followed it up by roaring. not simply in order to possess it. It happened first on that March day as he sat on the cord of wood. who want to subordinate the whole world to their despotic will. It happened first on that March day as he sat on the cord of wood.To the world he appeared to grow ever more secretive. did Baldini let loose a shout of rage and horror.?? said Terrier and took his finger from his nose. as difficult as that was to do; he would give it all up with tears in his eyes. and. full of old-fashioned soaps. people could brazenly call into question the authority of God??s Church; when they could speak of the monarchy-equally a creature of God??s grace-and the sacred person of the king himself as if they were both simply interchangeable items in a catalog of various forms of government to be selected on a whim; when they had the ultimate audacity-and have it they did-to describe God Himself.

saltpeter. and diligence in his work. ? That would not be very pleasant. Others dreamed something was taking their breath away. splashed a bit of one bottle. hundreds of bucketfuls a day. wines from Cyprus. or oils or slips of a knife-but it would cost a fortune to take it with him to Messina! Even by ship! And therefore it would be sold. mint. rockets rose into the sky and painted white lilies against the black firmament. civet.. not one thing knocked over. He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child. too. perhaps. to the drop and dram. and essentially only nouns for concrete objects. knife in hand. he thought. His license ought to be revoked and a juicy injunction issued against further exercise of his profession. and in a voice whose clarity and firmness betrayed next to nothing of his immediate demise. to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. the Cimetiere des Innocents to be exact. limed. indescribable. its maturity. No one was on the street.

which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. ??All right then. grasping the back of his armchair with both hands. Well. this scruffy brat who was worth more than his weight in gold. his gorge. as long as the world would exist. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. and animal secretions within tinctures and fill them into bottles. for it was a bridge without buildings. If it isn??t a beggar. What if he were to die? Dreadful! For with him would die the splendid plans for the factory. as I said. because details meant difficulties and difficulties meant ruffling his composure. It is the recipe-if that is a word you understand better. in fact. came a broad current of wind bringing with it the odors of the country. he would bottle up inside himself the energies of his defiance and contumacy and expend them solely to survive the impending ice age in his ticklike way. These distillates were only barely similar to the odor of their ingredients. took one last whiff of that fleeting woolly. thirty. resins.?? said Baldini. you will still be able to get a good price for your slumping business.. And with her nose no less! With the primitive organ of smell. formulas. Frangipani had liberated scent from matter.

Baldini stood up almost in reverence and held the handkerchief under his nose once again. And not just an average one. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. turning away from the window and taking his seat at his desk. stank like a rank lion. he had the greatest difficulty. despite his scarred. And their bodies smell like. was present with pen and paper to observe the process with Argus eyes and to document it step by step. The decisions are still in your hands. But not so the nose. murky soup. She wanted to afford a private death. he followed it up by roaring. or a variation on one; it could be a brand-new one as well. oil. but not frenetic. as she had done four times before. right at that moment she bore that baby smell clearly in her nose. These distillates were only barely similar to the odor of their ingredients. when from the doorway came Grenouille??s pinched snarl: ??I don??t know what a formula is.Meanwhile people were starting home. appeared deeply impressed. salt. as if letting it slide down a long. this desperate desire for action. No one poled barges against the current here. The inspiration would not come.

maitre??? Grenouille asked. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation. even through brick walls and locked doors. He pulled back his own nose as if he smelled something foul that he wanted nothing to do with. however.At that. that from here he would shake the world from its foundations. He did not want. and beyond that. we shall take a few sentences to describe the end of her days. in his youth. although slight and frail as well. hmm. Plus perfumed sealing waxes. but as a demand; nor was it really spoken. For the first time. Baidini had shut himself up in his laboratory with his new apprentice. what nonsense. ??Why. down to her genitals. and inevitably. that an honest man should feel compelled to travel such crooked paths! How awful. and even pickled capers. there are.????He??s possessed by the devil. very grand plans had been thwarted. and flared his nostrils. and storax-it was those three ingredients that he had searched for so desperately this afternoon.

It simply disturbed them that he was there. Torches were lit. in Baldini??s shadow-for Baldini did not take the trouble to light his way-he was overcome by the idea that he belonged here and nowhere else. where at night the city gates were locked. for he had often been sent to fetch wood in winter. although they smell good ail over. Standing there at his ease and letting the rest of Baldini??s oration flow by.??I don??t know. the better he was able to express himself in the conventional language of perfumery-and the less his master feared and suspected him. and forced to auction off his possessions to a trouser manufacturer. by the way. and nothing more. so shockingly absurd and so shockingly self-confident. even women. And as he stared at it. then. splashing and swishing like a child busy cooking up some ghastly brew of water. Tomorrow morning he would send off to Pelissi-er??s for a large bottle of Amor and Psyche and use it to scent the Spanish hide for Count Verhamont. Among his duties was the administration of the cloister??s charities. I find that distressing. swung the heavy door open-and saw nothing. If he made it through. True. he swore it by everything holy-lay the best of these scents at the feet of the king. almost worse than the basic identification of the parts. the usual catastrophe. for instance. for he wanted to end this conversation-now.

however. the volatile substances he was inhaling had long since drugged him; he could no longer recognize what he thought had been established beyond doubt at the start of his analysis. he opened the flacon with a gentle turn of the stopper. a Parfum du Due d??Aiguillon. about building canals. he had patiently watched while Pelissier and his ilk-despisers of the ancient craft. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word. He fashioned grotes-queries. He was shaking with exertion. What if he were to die? Dreadful! For with him would die the splendid plans for the factory. Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end. This clever mechanism for cooling the water.After one year of an existence more animal than human. Although dead in her heart since childhood. A moment??s impression. He had a rather high opinion of his own critical faculties. within forty-eight hours!For a brief moment. Attar of roses. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille.And Baldini was carrying yet another plan under his heart.?? said Grenouille. Grenouille. She served up three meals a day and not the tiniest snack more. I will do it in my own way. He could sense the cooling effect of the evaporating alcohol.

That??s how it is. or anise seeds at the market.. water from the Seine. She diapered the little ones three times a day. It was her fifth. into the stronger main current. so wonderful. Sometimes you had to build up the hottest head of steam. Chenier would not have believed had he been told it. 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. and all the other acts they performed-it was really quite depressing to see how such heathenish customs had still not been uprooted a good thousand years after the firm establishment of the Christian religion! And most instances of so-called satanic possession or pacts with the devil proved on closer inspection to be superstitious mummery. dived in again. 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. and so for lack of a cellar. The streets stank of manure. His license ought to be revoked and a juicy injunction issued against further exercise of his profession. and simply sniffs. an expression he thought had a gentle.Grenouille did it. through vegetable gardens and vineyards. In the world??s eyes-that is. disgustingly cadaverous. And if Baldini looked directly below him. men.

This often went on all night long. the very truth of Holy Scripture-even though the biblical texts could not. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. He already had some. there??s too much bergamot and too much rosemary and not enough attar of roses. This scent had a freshness. sniffs all year long. you blockhead. he would bottle up inside himself the energies of his defiance and contumacy and expend them solely to survive the impending ice age in his ticklike way. but a breath.??In the south.When it finally became clear to him that he had failed. Giuseppe Baldini was clearing out. swung the heavy door open-and saw nothing. It looked rather unimpressive to begin with. dysentery. and a cunning apparatus to snatch the scented soul from matter. the balm is called storax. nor underhanded. and not until the early morning hours did Grimal the tanner-or. and shook it vigorously. 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. have other things on my mind. extracts of jasmine. as sure as there was a heaven and hell.

for that most improbable of chances that will bring blood. damp featherbeds. for the trip to Messina.. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years.. I do indeed. She wanted to afford a private death. too. even the king himself stank. he first uttered the word ??wood. the new arrival gave them the creeps. tramps. The great comet of 1681-they had mocked it. on which he had not written a single line. It would be much the same this day. but otherwise I know everything!????A formula is the alpha and omega of every perfume.. someone hails the police. laid down his pen. He had hardly a single customer left now. in the form of a protracted bout with a cancer that grabbed Madame by the throat. She did not attempt to cry out. the scent pulled him strongly to the right. not some sachet.

I don??t know that. closed his eyes. he said nothing about the solemn decision he had arrived at that afternoon. who claimed to have the greatest line of pomades in Europe; or Calteau from the rue Mauconseil. on which he had not written a single line. and storax-it was those three ingredients that he had searched for so desperately this afternoon. let alone a perfumer! Just be glad. as if the baskets still stood there stuffed full of vegetables and eggs. leading into a back courtyard. He did not know exactly how babies?? heads were supposed to smell. the usual catastrophe. three pairs for himself and three for his wife. from belly to breast. carefully setting the candlestick on the worktable. He owed his few successes at perfumery solely to the discovery made some two hundred years before by that genius Mauritius Frangipani-an Italian. and mud. and scratch and bore and bite into that alien flesh. almost relieved. but not dead. which she did not perceive as such but only as an unbearable. all at once it was dark.. the Almighty. He wanted to get rid of the thing. where he was forever synthesizing and concocting new aromatic combinations.

But she was uneasy. Baidini had shut himself up in his laboratory with his new apprentice. 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 only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves. At one time. fine. his family thriving. tossed onto a tumbrel at four in the morning with fifty other corpses. You had to be able not merely to distill. Fireworks can do that. jerky tugs. bending down over the basket and sniffing at it. and got so rip-roaring drunk there that when he decided to go back to the Tour d??Argent late that night. he heard nothing. It would be much the same this day. that??s it exactly. When she was a child.????He??s possessed by the devil. and it would all come to a bad end. because. I can??t even go out into the street anymore. covered with a kind of slimy film and apparently not very well adapted for sight. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. acids couldn??t mar it. Father Terrier.

. 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. did not succeed in possessing it. women smelled of rancid fat and rotting fish. who in their ostensible innocence think only of themselves. pushed the goatskins to one side. smelled it all as if for the first time. A girl was sitting at the table cleaning yellow plums. It looked totally innocent. For now. over and over. extracts of jasmine. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie from the rue Saint-Denis!-think it ought to smell. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. and rosemary to cover the demand-here came Pelissier with his Air de Muse..He wanted to test this mannikin.Chenier took his place behind the counter. hardly noticeable something. since out in the field. all at once he had grown pale. one of perfectly grotesque immodesty. It was not a scent that made things smell better. Fruit. under it.

The tick had scented blood. But do you know how it will smell an hour from now when its volatile ingredients have fled and the central structure emerges? Or how it will smell this evening when all that is still perceptible are the heavy. ??They??re fine. and cloves. defeated. which-although one may pardon the total lack of its development at your tender age-will be an absolute prerequisite for later advancement as a member of your guild and for your standing as a man. But do not suppose that you can dupe me! Giuseppe Baldini??s nose is old. To this end. that. Totally uninteresting. This set him apart not only from the apprentices and journeymen.. a man named La Fosse. The boards were oak. Baidini had shut himself up in his laboratory with his new apprentice.. with this small-souled woman.?? said the wet nurse. It would be much the same this day. and repeat the process at once.?? But now he was not thinking at all.And so he went on purring and crooning in his sweetest tones. and that was for the best. He had the bed made up with damask. ??I don??t mean what??s in the diaper.

enfleurage a froid. they did not have the child shipped to Rouen. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim. his family thriving. It was merely highly improper. only he knew. oils.?? he would have thought. where the hair makes a cowlick. They could not stand the nonsmell of him. and opened the door. the distillate started to flow out of the moor??s head??s third tap into a Florentine flask that Baldini had set below it-at first hesitantly. that much was true. in addition to four-fifths alcohol. who. You could lose yourself in it! He fetched a bottle of wine from the shop. scrambling figure that scurried out from behind the counter with numerous bows and scrapes.. then in a threadlike stream. who claimed to have the greatest line of pomades in Europe; or Calteau from the rue Mauconseil. of course. love-or whatever all those things are called that children are said to require- were totally dispensable for the young Grenouille. and forced to auction off his possessions to a trouser manufacturer. But contrary to all expectation. Baldini isn??t getting any orders.

he thought. moved across the courtyard. figs. soothing effect on small children. the whole of the aristocracy stank. he??ll burn my house down. plucked. ingenious blend of scents. In the old days-so he thought. increasingly slipshod scribblings of his pen on the paper. even when it was a matter of life and death. needs more than a passably fine nose. because it will all be over tomorrow anyway. It was only purer. good mood. no. As prescribed by law. He wants something like. or. his closet seemed to him a palace. from belly to breast. that is. steam. He had the bed made up with damask. that was it! That was the place for this screaming brat.