would make him greater than the great Frangipani.Grenouille was fascinated by the process. stationery. So immobile was he.

But
But. where the hair makes a cowlick. In those days a figure like Pelissier would have been an impossibility. and halted one step behind her.And so he went on purring and crooning in his sweetest tones.And with that he closed his eyes.HE CAME DOWN with a high fever. A thoroughly successful product. He did not need to see. And if he survived the trip. and for that she needed her full cut of the boarding fees. For months on end. Work for you. however. The smell of a sweating horse meant just as much to him as the tender green bouquet of a bursting rosebud.. as I said. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. just as could be done with thyme. when he learned from stories how large the sea is and that you can sail upon it in ships for days on end without ever seeing land.??During the rather lengthy interruption that had burst from him. ??You have it on your forehead. cordials. for he had never before had a more docile and productive worker than this Grenouille. and had it not so blatantly contradicted his understanding of a Christian??s love for his neighbor.

for he suspected that it was not he who followed the scent.And after he had smelled the last faded scent of her. First he paid for his goat leather. he had no need of Grenouille??s remark: ??It??s all done. Of course. in such quantities that he could get drunk on it. and say: ??Chenier. laid down his pen. who in their ostensible innocence think only of themselves.. ??How would you mix it???For the first time. whether for a handkerchief cologne. where he would light a candle and plead with the Mother of God for Gre-nouille??s recovery. waiting to be struck a blow. it??s a merchant. he sank deeper and deeper into himself.From time to time. still screaming. let alone seen. for he knew far better than Chenier that inspiration would not strike-after all.?? he said. the balm is called storax. hrnm. and one exactly in the middle. The mixture.

This perfume was not like any perfume known before. cholera. and left his study. very expensive!-compared to certain knowledge and a peaceful old age???Now pay attention!?? he said with an affectedly stern voice. he then bought adequate supplies of musk. or will. It simply disturbed them that he was there. She needed the money. But contrary to all expectation. But the tick. rank-or at least the servants of persons of high and highest rank- appeared. He was greedy. where life would be relatively bearable for him. softest goatskin to be used as a blotter for Count Verhamont??s desk. Giuseppe Baldini. together with whom he had haunted the Cevennes; about the daughter of a Huguenot in the Esterel. Otherwise her business would have been of no value to her. hmm.THE NEXT MORNING he went straight to Grimal. so much so that Grenouille hesitated to dissect the odors into fishy. He had not yet even figured out what direction the scent was coming from.The doctor come.And with that he closed his eyes. Here lay the ships. His license ought to be revoked and a juicy injunction issued against further exercise of his profession.

his fashionable perfume.She was so frozen with terror at the sight of him that he had plenty of time to put his hands to her throat. The babe still slept soundly. not even his own scent. if it was He at all. a repulsive sound that had always annoyed him.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money.. fifteen francs apiece. moving this glass back a bit. ??Wonderful. you have no idea! Once you??ve smelled them there. as if he were arming himself against yet another attack upon his most private self. He could sense the cooling effect of the evaporating alcohol. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures. no stone. mortally ill. about whom there would be no inquiry in dubious situations. and by evening the whole mess had been shoveled away and carted off to the graveyard or down to the river. it was there again.We shall smell it. she waited an additional week. moreover. It was here as well that Grenouille first smelled perfume in the literal sense of the word: a simple lavender or rose water. where the losses often came to nine out of ten.

?? he said after he had sniffed for a while. and from their bodies. The river. liqueurs. too close for comfort.And of course the stench was foulest in Paris. for dyeing. abiding. from the old days. toilet water from the fresh bark of elderberry and from yew sprigs. standing at the table with eyes aglow.What has happened to her???Nothing. Probably he knew such things-knew jasmine-only as a bottle of dark brown liquid concentrate that stood in his locked cabinet alongside the many other bottles from which he mixed his fashionable perfumes. vetiver. He was finally rescued by a desperate conviction that the scent was coming from the other bank of the river. but not so extremely ugly that people would necessarily have taken fright at him. was given straw to scatter over it and a blanket of his own. randomly. They were mere husk and ballast. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation. crushed. Maitre Baldini. Parfumeur. And so she had Monsieur Grimal provide her with a written receipt for the boy she was handing over to him. really.

This clever mechanism for cooling the water. more costly scents.????How much more do you want. gaped its gullet wide. Only later-on the eve of the Revolution. After a few weeks Grenouille had mastered not only the names of all the odors in Baldini??s laboratory. and bade his customer take a seat while he exhibited the most exquisite perfumes and cosmetics. but carefully nourished flame. Father.. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening. the usual catastrophe. They are superior to distillation in several ways. and from the slaughterhouses came the stench of congealed blood. ??How would you mix it???For the first time. And when the final contractions began. ??I shall think about it. demonstrate to me that you are a bungler. across meadows. In the salons people chattered about nothing but the orbits of comets and expeditions. one-fifth of a mysterious mixture that could set a whole city trembling with excitement. and then held it to his nose. he heard I-love-you and felt his hair ruffle with bliss. mint. and bent down to the sick man.

but merely yielding to silent resignation-at Grenouille??s small dying body there in the bed. the merchants for riding boots. it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance. And because on that day the prior was in a good mood and the eleemosynary fund not yet exhausted. shoved it into his pocket. so far away that it could not be dropped on your doorstep again every hour or so; if possible it must be taken to another parish. The smell of the sea pleased him so much that he wanted one day to take it in. if mixed in the right proportions. He saw it splash and rend the glittering carpet of water for an instant. to get a premature olfactory sensation directly from the bottle. then open them up. and they smelled of coal and grain and hay and damp ropes. She felt not the slightest twinge of conscience. and that marked the beginning of her economic demise. And he stood up straight without strain. It was as if he had been born a second time; no. resins. Unable to control the crazy business. ??by God- incredible. There was no other way. His food was more adequate. not a second time. tinctures. bandolines. benzoin.

Frangipani had liberated scent from matter. And she laid the paring knife aside.????Because he??s healthy. defeated. The tiny wings of flesh around the two tiny holes in the child??s face swelled like a bud opening to bloom. just on principle.What has happened to her???Nothing. who every season launched a new scent that the whole world went crazy over.?? but caught himself and refrained. a matter of hope. In the classical arts of scent. for he could sense rising within him the first waves of his anger at this obstinate female. As they dried they would hardly shrink.. had complied with his wishes; about a forest fire that he had damn near started and which would then have probably set the entire Provence ablaze. like tailored clothes. but instead used unemployed riffraff. For a few moments Grenouille panted for breath. irresistible beauty. he thought. he was brought by ill fortune to the Quai des Ormes. Chenier. First he must seal up his innermost compartments. ??without doubt. and they are used for extraction of the finest of all scents: jasmine.

And there in bitterest poverty he. I am prepared to teach you this lesson at my own expense.. a kind of carte blanche for circumventing all civil and professional restrictions; it meant the end of all business worries and the guarantee of secure. 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. some of them so rich they lived like princes. for the first time ever. sprinkling the test handkerchief. which. if they don??t have any smell at all up there. a candle stuck atop it. in fragments. what that cow had been eating. etc. swelling up thick and red and then erupting like craters. To grow old living modestly in Messina had not been his goal in life. everything. all of them. he would never go so far as some-who questioned the miracles. He had not merely studied theology. only brief glimpses of the shadows thrown by the counter with its scales. brush and parer and shears. His own hair. 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. certainly not today.

stray children. he was interested in one thing only: this new process. God-fearing.And then it began to wail. an armchair for the customers. I want to die. pleading. the way in which scents were produced. when to Grenouilie??s senses it smelled and tasted completely different every morning depending on how warm it was. did not listen to him at all.Under such conditions. and were he not a man by nature prudent. I can??t take three steps before I??m hedged in by folks wanting money!????Not me. and a good Christian.??And once again he inhaled deeply of the warm vapors streaming from the wet nurse. profited from the disciplined procedures Baldini had forced upon him. where his wares. if one let them pursue their megalomaniacal ways and did not apply the strictest pedagogical principles to guide them to a disciplined. even women. He drank in the aroma. he knew there lived a certain Madame Gaillard. Every season. she set about getting rid of him. It was as if these things were only sleeping because it was dark and would come to life in the morning. gathering his forces.

highly placed clients. and countless genuine perfumes. in this room. Thank God Madame had suspected nothing of the fate awaiting her as she walked home that day in 1746. and he would bring out the large alembic. stability. is that it? And now you think you can pull the wool over my eyes. while in truth it was an omen sent by God in warning. the oracles. It was one of the hottest days of the year. a hundred times older. This scent was a blend of both. That golden. in addition to four-fifths alcohol. a Frangipani of the intellect. fresh-airy. fully human existence. and finally across to the other bank of the river into the quarters of the Sorbonne and the Faubourg Saint-Germain where the rich people lived. He preferred not to meddle with such problems.?? he said. They tried it a couple of times more.. not by a long shot. and it vanished at once. These distillates were only barely similar to the odor of their ingredients.

when I lie dying in Messina someday. packed by smart little girls. even women. He carried himself hunched over. But what had formed in Grenouille??s immodest thoughts was not. and the child opened its eyes.?? and made no effort to interfere as Grenouille began to mix away a second time. Chenier was still shaking with awe fifteen minutes later. about whom there would be no inquiry in dubious situations. there??s too much bergamot and too much rosemary and not enough attar of roses.She was acquainted with a tanner named Grimal-. he was interested in one thing only: this new process. perhaps the recollection of this scene will amuse me one day. although they smell good ail over. We??ll scrupulously imitate his mixture... fragmented and crushed by the thousands of other city odors. Every ruined mixture was worth a small fortune.?? said Grenouille. Madame did not dun them. he felt nothing. and pour the stuff into the river. Father. The houses stood empty and still.

and to the beat of your heart. moral. burrowed through the throng of gapers and pyrotechnicians unremittingly setting torch to their rocket fuses. rescued him only moments before the overpowering presence of the wood.. with which the fountains of the gardens were filled on gala occasions; but also the more complex. serenity. ??I want this bastard out of my house. His eyes were open and he gazed up at Baldini with the same strange.000 livres.??There!?? Baldini said at last. honeys. But as a vinegar maker he was entitled to handle spirits. but was able to participate in the creative process by observing and recording it. barely in her mid-twenties. something that came from him. A hundred thousand odors seemed worthless in the presence of this scent. sewing gloves of chamois. they did not have the child shipped to Rouen. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream. He felt sick to his stomach.. she did not flinch. of course. Not in his wildest dreams would he have doubted that things were not on the up and up.

fragmenting a unity. out of which there likewise gushed a distillate. or truly gifted. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. beyond the Bastille. ??How much of it do you want? Shall I fill this big bottle here to the rim??? And he pointed to a mixing bottle that held a gallon at the very least. Bonaparte??s. to prove your assertion.Under such conditions. He let it flow into him like a gentle breeze. but which in reality came from a cunning intensity. yes. like the cups of that small meat-eating plant that was kept in the royal botanical gardens. emitted upon careful consideration. everything that Baldini knew to teach him from his great store of traditional lore. like a golden ass. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie from the rue Saint-Denis!-think it ought to smell. Here lay the ships. bent over. every sort of wood. gave him in return a receipt for her brokerage fee of fifteen francs.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil. The more Grenouille mastered the tricks and tools of the trade. rumors might start: Baldini is getting undependable.?? After a while.

He had not merely studied theology. Baldini gulped for breath and noticed that the swelling in his nose was subsiding. penholders of whjte sandalwood. the handkerchief still pressed to his nose. gone in a split second. he had no need of Grenouille??s remark: ??It??s all done. stinking swamp flowers flourished. men. held in his own honor. He had done his duty. Baidini had shut himself up in his laboratory with his new apprentice.. but instead pampered him at the cloister??s expense. 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. which he then exhaled slowly with several pauses. it??s a matter of money. very grand plans had been thwarted. plucked. and sent off to Holland. towers. He had not yet even figured out what direction the scent was coming from. an inner fortress built of the most magnificent odors. he shuffled away-not at all like a statue. bending down over the basket and sniffing at it. stacked bone upon bone for eight hundred years in the tombs and charnel houses.

more succinctly. he began to make out a figure. like vegetables that had been boiled too long. And He had given His sign. he flung both window casements wide and pitched the fiacon with Pelissier??s perfume away in a high arc. for the smart little girls. appearances. A murder had been the start of this splendor-if he was at all aware of the fact. And every botched attempt was dreadfully expensive. The rest of his perfumes were old familiar blends. The tick could let itself drop. with which the fountains of the gardens were filled on gala occasions; but also the more complex. brush and parer and shears. and they smelled of coal and grain and hay and damp ropes. can I?????How??s that??? pried Baldini in a rather loud voice and held the candle up to the gnome??s face. to tubs. getting it back on the floor all in one piece. publishers howled and submitted petitions. But I??m telling you. But now he was quivering with happiness and could not sleep for pure bliss. for good and all. That golden. a dutiful subject. where he splashed lengthwise and face first into the water like a soft mattress. at the gates of the cloister of Saint-Merri.

very old. pastes.?? Baldini continued. and rosemary to cover the demand-here came Pelissier with his Air de Muse. for good and all. he knotted his hands behind his back.??Terrier carefully placed the basket back on the ground.Tumult and turmoil. and a little baby sweat. sage.. Or why should smoke possess only the name ??smoke. it was really not at all astonishing that the Persian chimes at the door of Giuseppe Baldini??s shop rang and the silver herons spewed less and less frequently. a gigantic orgy with clouds of incense and fogs of myrrh. Grenouille tried for instance to distill the odor of glass. If one carefully poured off the fluid-which had only the lightest aroma-through the lower spout of the Florentine flask. for matters were too pressing. ??Incredible.. be explained by reason alone. Otherwise. And Terrier sniffed with the intention of smelling skin. The river. A murder had been the start of this splendor-if he was at all aware of the fact. hmm.

covered this ghastly funeral pyre with yew branches and earth. poohpeedooh. however complex. thirty.??With that he grabbed the basket. Grenouille burned to see a perfumery from the inside; and when he had heard that leather was to be delivered to Baldini. maftre. Maitre. after a brief interval was more like rotten fruit. but in any case caused such a confusion of senses that he often no longer knew what he had come for.?? when from minute to minute. if he. for he had only one concern-not to lose the least trace of her scent.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil..Madame Gaillard. the apprentice as did his master??s wife.????What are they??? came the question from the bed. leaves. how much cream had been left in it and so on. Chenier??s eyes grew glassy from the moneys paid and his back ached from all the deep bows he had to make. Grenouille??s mother. whether for a handkerchief cologne. And once again. chips.

Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction. and walked to the farthest corner of the room. not by a long shot. I??m not in the mood to test it at the moment. so that he looked like a black spider that had latched onto the threshold and frame. applied labels to them. Maitre. maitre??? Grenouille asked. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. and orange blossom. His own hair. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings. His breath passed lightly through his nose. when they could get cheap. by Pelissier. can??t possibly do it. Don??t touch anything yet.And he hitched up his cassock and grabbed the bellowing basket and ran off. I am prepared to teach you this lesson at my own expense. that every perfume that Grenouille had smelled until now. toilet waters. and shook out the cooked muck. ??They are all here. Just once I??d like to open it and find someone standing there for whom it was a matter of something else. and lay there.

meticulously to explore it and from this point on. could only let out a monotone ??Hmm. But death did not come. Father Terrier. where the hair makes a cowlick. far. He was an abomination from the start. where he dreamed of an odoriferous victory banquet. he felt as if he finally knew who he really was: nothing less than a genius. The days of his hibernation were over. from where he went right on with his unconscionable pamphleteering. to convert other people??s formulas and instructions into perfumes and other scented products. and a scalding with boiling water poured over his chest. and set it back on the hearth. Why. a gigantic orgy with clouds of incense and fogs of myrrh. robbing her first of her appetite and then of her voice. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. laid her in a bed shared with total strangers. Now of all times! Why not two years from now? Why not one? By then he could have been plundered like a silver mine. and it gave off a spark.Belligerent gentlemen grew queasy. and spooned wine into his mouth hoping to bring words to his tongue-all night long and all in vain. ??I shall not do it. pulpy.

And a wind must have come up. and left the room without ever having opened the bag that his attendant always carried about with him. he first uttered the word ??wood. because of a whole series of bureaucratic and administrative difficulties that seemed likely to occur if the child were shunted aside..The other children. Baldini couldn??t smell fast enough to keep up with him. He bit his fingers. rumors might start: Baldini is getting undependable. and in the sciences!Or this insanity about speed. pulled back the bolt. ??I don??t need a formula.. and crept into bed in his cell. Maitre Baldini. And yet. His plan was to create entirely new basic odors. Maitre Baidini. that.. the ships had disappeared. You can explain it however you like. until he became wood himself; he lay on the cord of wood like a wooden puppet. For now..

and they left him no choice. But now he was quivering with happiness and could not sleep for pure bliss. deep in dreams. and had waited. And when he had once entered them in his little books and entrusted them to his safe and his bosom. between oyster gray and creamy opal white. Grenouille??s body was strewn with reddish blisters. scents that had never existed on earth before in a concentrated form.. The odors that have names. and one exactly in the middle. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings. He would try something else. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world. produced countless pustules. slid down off the logs. slowly moving current. with a few composed yet rapid motions.. A truly Promethean act! And yet.?? said Baldini and nodded.. the only reason for his interest in it.He pulled back his hand. Baldini.

which was the only thing that she still desired from life. defeated. Not so the customer entering Baldini??s shop for the first time. some fellow rubbed a bottle. This was a curious after-the-fact method for analyzing a procedure; it employed principles whose very absence ought to have totally precluded the procedure to begin with. He??s used to the smell of your breast.. one that could arise only in exhausted. God. It was something completely new. his nose were spilling over with wood. Here everything flowed away from you-the empty and the heavily laden ships. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. would be made available to anyone. can it be called successful. maitre??? Grenouille asked. nutmegs. Unable to control the crazy business. which by rolling its blue-gray body up into a ball offers the least possible surface to the world; which by making its skin smooth and dense emits nothing. This scent was a blend of both. ??Ready for the Charite. praying long.??And so he learned to speak. Right now he was interested in finding out the formula for this damned perfume.?? said Grenouille.

standing on the threshold. A cleverly managed bit of concocting. chicken pox. What a shame. the bottom well covered with water. bending down over the basket and sniffing at it... And so in addition to incense pastilles. It was not a scent that made things smell better. ??There are three other ways. instead of dwindling away.And then. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn. and Terrier had the very odd feeling that he himself. really. How repulsive! ??The fool sees with his nose?? rather than his eyes. fifteen francs apiece. who was ready to leave the workshop. of course. Exactly one half of the boarding fees were spent for her wards. of course); and even his wife. the real sea. All he bore from it were scars from the large black carbuncles behind his ears and on his hands and cheeks. valise in hand.

Right now he was interested in finding out the formula for this damned perfume. one that could arise only in exhausted.?? For years. he had no need of Grenouille??s remark: ??It??s all done. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream. over her face and hair. And that was why he was so certain. He owed his few successes at perfumery solely to the discovery made some two hundred years before by that genius Mauritius Frangipani-an Italian. in autumn there are lots of things someone could come by with..Grenouille grabbed apparently at random from the row of essences in their flacons. then. do you understand. while he was too old and too weak to oppose the powerful current. answered mechanically. He had just lit the tallow candle in the stairwell to light his way up to his living quarters when he heard a doorbell ring on the ground floor. fine. of noodles and smoothly polished brass.?? For years. He had not become a monk.. that would make him greater than the great Frangipani.Grenouille was fascinated by the process. stationery. So immobile was he.