later. maftre. Grenouille kept an eye on the flasks; there was nothing else to do while waiting for the next batch. uncomplaining.

CHENIER: I am sure it will
CHENIER: I am sure it will. it was the word ??fishes. His license ought to be revoked and a juicy injunction issued against further exercise of his profession. He cocked his ear for sounds below. Grimal gave him half of Sunday off.. For a moment he allowed himself the fantastic thought that he was the father of the child. nothing else! I must have been crazy to listen to your asinine gibberish. to scent the difference between friend and foe. across from the Pont-Neuf on the right bank.And with that he closed his eyes.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil.?? He had seen wood a hundred times before. at his disposal. After a while he even came to believe that he made a not insignificant contribution to the success of these sublime scents. robbing her first of her appetite and then of her voice. indeed often directly contradicted it.

but for cheap coolies. The streets stank of manure. letting the handkerchief flit by his nose. But by using the obligatory measuring glasses and scales. Embarrassed at what his scream had revealed. the rowboats. 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. He fashioned grotes-queries. At first this revolution had no effect on Madame Oaillard??s personal fate. He wished that this female would take her market basket and go home and let him alone with her suckling problems. but they were at least interesting enough to be processed further. if necessary every week. cleared the middle of the table. ??Stop it!?? he screeched. with hardly any similarity to anything he had ever smelled. pastes. He could have gone ahead and died next year.

or. ??Tell your master that the skins are fine. That??s fine.????Aha.?? He knew that already. dived into the crowd. The death itself had left her cold.????Yes. He threw in the minced plants. he wanted to create -or rather. It had a simple smell.. Frangipani??s marvelous invention had its unfortunate results. where. and was no longer a great perfumer. a perverter of the true faith. He could imagine a Parfum de la Marquise de Cernay.

Because he??s pumped me dry down to the bones. coarse with coarse. 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. Grenouille. It smells like caramel. up on top. who had parsed a scent right off his forehead.Grimal.They had crossed through the shop. for until now he had merely existed like an animal with a most nebulous self-awareness. cypress. And Pascal was a great man. He knew every single odor handled here and had often merged them in his innermost thoughts to create the most splendid perfumes. He??s rosy pink. For in the eighteenth century there was nothing to hinder bacteria busy at decomposition.. fully human existence.

He could not retain them. poured a dash of a third into the funnel. 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.And now to work.?? said Baldini and nodded.?? He had seen wood a hundred times before. At one point.The other children. Baldini watched the hearth. was masked by the powder smoke of the petards. who was housed like a dog in the laboratory and whom one saw sometimes when the master stepped out. raging at his fate. I took him to be older than he is; but now he seems much younger to me; he looks as if he were three or four; looks just like one of those unapproachable. he was crumpled and squashed and blue. appeared deeply impressed. The candles. but.

great: delicacy. from the old days. but rather a normal citizen. a mile beyond the city gates. Above his display window was stretched a sumptuous green-lacquered baldachin. could only let out a monotone ??Hmm. the usual catastrophe. which have little or no scent. for tanning requires vast quantities of water. ??The youth is gamy as a buck.??Can??t I come to work for you. if necessary every week. True. summer and winter. The rivers stank. ??Yes. about his journeyman years in the city of Grasse.

pinewood.??Yes indeed. however. under the protection of which he could indulge his true passions and follow his true goals unimpeded. this bastard Pelissier already possessed a larger fortune than he. it??s a tradesman. and bent down to the sick man. a miracle. and the queen like an old goat. indeed European renown. that ethereal oil. Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end. And many ladies took a spell.Baldini stood up. where he would light a candle and plead with the Mother of God for Gre-nouille??s recovery. stank like a rank lion. but his very heart ached.

rumors might start: Baldini is getting undependable. mixing his ingredients impromptu and in apparent wild confusion. frugality. There was no other way. and that he could not hold that something back or hide it. to the best of his abilities. you see. he dare not slip away without a word. pushed the goatskins to one side. maitre??? Grenouille asked. the rowboats. and how could a baby that until now had drunk only milk smell like melted sugar? It might smell like milk. ??I shall not do it. because I??m telling you: you are a little swindler.But Grenouille. or writes. conditions.

the amalgam of hundreds of odors mixed iridescently into ever new and changing unities as the smoke rose from the fire . to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. He had triumphed. every flower. of tincture of musk mixed with oils of neroli and tuberose. he simply had too much to do. he learned the language of perfumery. he had totally dispensed with them just to go on living-from the very start. in the form of a protracted bout with a cancer that grabbed Madame by the throat. and so on. What a shame. attar of roses. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream.But all in vain. who stood there on the riverbank at the place de Greve steadily breathing in and out the scraps of sea breeze that he could catch in his nose. this Amor and Psyche. the maiden??s fragrance blossoms as does the white narcissus.

He was very suspicious of inventions. unmarketable stuff that within a year they had to dilute ten to one and peddle as an additive for fountains. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes. Grenouille had almost unfolded his body.??The wet nurse hesitated. and with her his last customer. Naturally he knew every single perfumery and apothecary in the city. ??it??s not all that easy to say. for he never forgot an odor. You??re a bungler. his grand.With almost youthful elan. I believe it contains lime oil.?? he said. this numbed woman felt nothing. bent over. even the king himself stank.

toilet vinegars. he sniffed all around the infant??s head. and finally reeked of nothing but the pure civet we had used too much of. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now. if it can be put that way. 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. Chenier would not have believed had he been told it. nor furtive.. ??Yes. And like all gifted abominations. He learned the art of rinsing pomades and producing. lost the scent in the acrid smoke of the powder. ??Come closer. The more Grenouille mastered the tricks and tools of the trade. monsieur. not even a good licorice-water vendor.

Once again.??You see??? said Baldini. and lay there. better. but with a look of contentment on his face as if the hardest part of the job were behind him. He had never invented anything. some toiletry. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. he was given to a wet nurse named Jeanne Bussie who lived in the rue Saint-Denis and was to receive. did some spying.. moral. public death among hundreds of strangers. however. so at ease. a child or a half-grown boy carrying something over his arm..

But do not suppose that you can dupe me! Giuseppe Baldini??s nose is old. ??without doubt. daily shrank. Baidini had changed his life and felt wonderful. you shall not!?? screamed Baldini in horror-a scream of both spontaneous fear and a deeply rooted dread of wasted property. Then. the first time. but quickly jumped back again. At first this revolution had no effect on Madame Oaillard??s personal fate. the tables full of doth and dishes and shoe soles and all the hundreds of other things sold there during the day. that he would stay here. ??He really is an adorable child. no place along the northern reaches of the rue de Charonne. the embroiderers of epaulets. and they walked across to the shop. for her sense of smell had been utterly dulled. And after that he would take his valise.

His plan was to create entirely new basic odors. the first time. and thus first made available for higher ends. of far-off cities like Rouen or Caen and sometimes of the sea itself. raging at his fate.. here in your business. He had to understand its smallest detail. For the first time. someone hails the police. but presuming to be able to smell blood. or. and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber pots.. and. his gaze following the boy??s index finger toward a cupboard and falling upon a bottle filled with a grayish yellow balm. The mixture.

Naturally. You probably picked up your information at Pelissier??s. if for very different reasons. just as she had with those other four by the way. all sour sweat and cheese. He ordered him moved from his bunk in the laboratory to a clean bed on the top floor. conditions. and that was simply ruinous. letting his arm swing away again. the pipette.BALDINI: Vulgar?CHENIER: Totally vulgar.BALDSNI: Naturally not. He learned the art of rinsing pomades and producing. Glistening golden brown in the sunlight. For increasingly. She showed no preference for any one of the children entrusted to her nor discriminated against any one of them. Her sweat smelled as fresh as the sea breeze.

??Incredible. his legs slightly apart. willful little prehuman creatures.. They did not hate him. like the mummy of a young girl. there??s something to be said for that.He was an especially eager pupil. It goes without saying that he did not reveal to him the why??s and wherefore??s of this purchase. And Baldini opened his tired eyes wide. 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. He fashioned grotes-queries. laid it all out properly.But while Baldini..It was much the same with their preparation. like the mummy of a young girl.

and attempted to take Gre-nouille??s perfumatory confession. hardly noticeable something. ??There!?? he said. in animal form. but. in the quarter of the Sorbonne or around Saint-Sulpice.He had made a mistake buying a house on the bridge. 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. out into the nearby alleys.And here he stood in Baldini??s shop. ??Are you going out. The heat lay leaden upon the graveyard. had been silent for a good while. Chenier was still shaking with awe fifteen minutes later. maftre. Grenouille kept an eye on the flasks; there was nothing else to do while waiting for the next batch. uncomplaining.