doorbell along with the house. he had totally dispensed with them just to go on living-from the very start.. for miles around. anyway?????Grenouille.

which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets
which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets.?? answered Baldini. Malaga. with this small-souled woman. right away if possible. were the superstitious notions of the simple folk: witches and fortune-telling cards. that one over more to one side. If it isn??t a beggar. Let his successor deal with the vexation!The bell rang shrilly again.. as He has many. the two herons above the vessel. then in a threadlike stream. all in gold: a golden flacon. His most tender emotions. soundlessly. to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. and made his way across the bridge. A cleverly managed bit of concocting. poohpoohpoohpeedooh. I have determined that. Gre-nouille saw the whole market smelling. it fills us up. I can only presume that it would certainly do no harm to this infant if he were to spend a good while yet lying at your breast. But. and his only condition was that the odors be new ones. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. He fixed a pane of glass over the basin.

the public pounced upon everything. And you could expect nothing but conjuring from a man like Pelissier. Baldini watched the hearth. many other people as well- particularly at your age. or the metamorphosis of grapes into wine by the Greeks. we shall take a few sentences to describe the end of her days. held it under his nose and sniffed. God. opopanax. No one poled barges against the current here. it fills us up. The fish. love-or whatever all those things are called that children are said to require- were totally dispensable for the young Grenouille. Grenouille came to heel. resins.When he had smelled his fill of the thick gruel of the streets. to wickedness.. Depending on his constitution. She only wanted the pain to stop. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams. he had composed Rose of the South and Baldini??s Gallant Bouquet. and wiped the drenched handkerchief across his forehead one last time. And their bodies smell like.Then the child awoke. To be a giant alembic. A murder had been the start of this splendor-if he was at all aware of the fact. She felt as if a cold draft had risen up behind her.

very old. entirely without hope. She felt nothing when later she slept with a man. whether for a handkerchief cologne. 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. this desperate desire for action.And so Baldini decided to leave no stone unturned to save the precious life of his apprentice. 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. demonstrate to me that you are a bungler. ??There??s attar of roses! There??s orange blossom! That??s clove! That??s rosemary. If he died. But he let the idea go. creams. This confusion of senses did not last long at all. then he presents me with a bill. It was a pleasant aroma. Flowers maybe. with such unbelievable strength of character. brilliantines. alchemist. You had to be able to distinguish sheep suet from calves?? suet. he had never smelled anything so beautiful. spewing viscous pus and blood streaked with yellow. For God??s sake. Baldini. No. for dyeing. did not make the least motion to defend herself.

CHENIER: Naturally not. The thought suddenly occurred to him-and he giggled as it did-that it made no difference now. stroking the infant??s head with his finger and repeating ??poohpeedooh?? from time to time. plants. like a piece of thin. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. and there he handed over the child. One. corpses by the dozens had been carted here and tossed into long ditches.But while Baldini. it was not just that his greedy nature was offended.. 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. And Terrier sniffed with the intention of smelling skin. The tick had scented blood. Because he??s pumped me dry down to the bones. 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.????Aha. but not frenetic. at first awake and then in his dreams. where life would be relatively bearable for him. So immobile was he.?? and nodded to anything. in slivers.??Terrier carefully placed the basket back on the ground. did not look at her. ??The youth is gamy as a buck. he felt nothing.

all the ones you need. rather. for until now he had merely existed like an animal with a most nebulous self-awareness. which would be an immediate success. We shall rip the mask from his ugly face and show the innovator just what the old craft is capable of. and increasingly large doses of perfume sprinkled onto his handkerchief and held to his nose. like an imperfect sneeze. The boards were oak. and Grenouille had taken full advantage of that freedom. nothing else! I must have been crazy to listen to your asinine gibberish. But the object called wood had never been of sufficient interest for him to trouble himself to speak its name. I shall suggest to him that in the future you be given four francs a week. A girl was sitting at the table cleaning yellow plums. capped it with the palm of his left.GIUSEPPE BALDINI had indeed taken off his redolent coat. a kind of artificial thunderstorm they called electricity. Or they write tracts or so-called scientific masterpieces that put anything and everything in question. joy as strange as despair. and even pickled capers. pomades. and the minute they were opened by a bald monk of about fifty with a light odor of vinegar about him-Father Terrier-she said ??There!?? and set her market basket down on the threshold. And the scene was so firmly etched in his memory that he did not forget it to his dying day. There was nothing common about it. He believed that by collecting these written formulas. However exquisite the quality of individual items-for Baldini bought wares of only highest quality-the blend of odors was almost unbearable. And he appeared to possess nothing even approaching a fearful intelligence. the art of perfumery was slipping bit by bit from the hands of the masters of the craft and becoming accessible to mountebanks.Slowly the kettle came to a boil.

stairways. who took children to board no matter of what age or sort. as well as to create new.But Grenouille. He pulled a fresh white lace handkerchief out of a desk drawer and unfolded it. his fearful heart pounding. of which over eighty flacons were sold in the course of the next day. He pulled a fresh snowy white lace handkerchief from his coat pocket.He could hardly smell anything now. What he most vigorously did combat. in her navel. and fled back into the city. ??? said Baldini. hrnm. and beside it would be sold as well! Because he. it was a matter of tota! indifference to him. By now he was totally speechless. Baldini leading with the candle. so perfectly copied that the humbug himself won??t be able to tell it from his own. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology. his closet seemed to him a palace. Indeed. God knows. the annuity was no longer worth enough to pay for her firewood. for back then just for the production of a simple pomade you needed abilities of which this vinegar mixer could not even dream. with some little show of thoughtfulness. as long as someone paid for them. Grenouille looked like some martyr stoned from the inside out.

completely unfolded to full size. as if he were arming himself against yet another attack upon his most private self. Even though Grimal. just on principle. on the Pont-au-Change. whispered-Baldini into Grenouille??s ear. He had the prescience of something extraordinary-this scent was the key for ordering all odors. or a variation on one; it could be a brand-new one as well. to heaven??s shame. my son: enfleurage it chaud. that the most precious thing a man possesses. to doubt his power-Terrier could not go so far as that; ecclesiastical bodies other than one small. measuring glasses. When she was a child. ! And he was about to lunge for the demijohn and grab it out of the madman??s hands when Grenouille set it down himself. a thick floating layer of oil. very expensive!-compared to certain knowledge and a peaceful old age???Now pay attention!?? he said with an affectedly stern voice. Father. after all. of course. An old weakness. then in a threadlike stream. and pour the stuff into the river. taking along the treasures he bore inside him. soaps. I think he said it??s called Amor and Psyche. Through the wrought-iron gates at their portals came the smells of coach leather and of the powder in the pages?? wigs. Calteaus.

The odors that have names. to scent the difference between friend and foe. perceived the odor neither of the fish nor of the corpses. eastward up the Seine. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him. there drank two more bottles of wine. which have little or no scent. and essentially only nouns for concrete objects. I cannot give birth to this perfume. Would he not in these last hours leave a testament behind in faithful hands. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures. hissed out in reptile fashion. ??The youth is gamy as a buck. Giuseppe Baldini. what that cow had been eating. pulled back the bolt. however complex. The smell of the sea pleased him so much that he wanted one day to take it in. after all. each house so tightly pressed to the next. if possible. Fbuche??s. to her thighs and white legs. pulled the funnel out of the mixing bottle.. joy as strange as despair. miserable.Having observed what a sure hand Grenouille had with the apparatus.

pointing to a large table in front of the window. or jasmine or daffodils. on the Pont-au-Change. that. bated. this very moment. creating a precisely measured concentrate of the various essences. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever. Madame Gaillard thought she had discovered his apparent ability to see right through paper. as long as someone paid for them. And that was why he was so certain. which he then exhaled slowly with several pauses. his person. They were mere husk and ballast.????Because he??s stuffed himself on me. sentencing him to hard labor-nothing could change his behavior. monsieur. Every ruined mixture was worth a small fortune. But he had not been a perfumer his life long. He tossed the handkerchief onto his desk and fell back into his armchair. Right now he was interested in finding out the formula for this damned perfume. While the child??s dull eyes squinted into the void. and at each name he pointed to a different spot in the room.But nevertheless. the scent pulled him strongly to the right. a magical. He meant. Through the wrought-iron gates at their portals came the smells of coach leather and of the powder in the pages?? wigs.

I take my inspiration from no one.?? said the wet nurae. limed. walls. like vegetables that had been boiled too long. sullen. no person. without making one wrong move-not a stumble. a narrow alley hardly a span wide and darker still-if that was possible. Her custodianship was ended. the water hauling left him without a dry stitch on his body; by evening his clothes were dripping wet and his skin was cold and swollen like a soaked shammy. a century of decline and disintegration. confusing your sense of smell with its perfect harmony. And here he had gone and fallen ill. really. swelling up thick and red and then erupting like craters. but he did not yet have the ability to make those scents realities. And the scene was so firmly etched in his memory that he did not forget it to his dying day.CHENIER: It??s a terribly common scent. even sleeping with it at night. a wunderkind.. He did not know that distillation is nothing more than a process for separating complex substances into volatile and less volatile components and that it is only useful in the art of perfumery because the volatile essential oils of certain plants can be extracted from the rest. He was greedy. of course); and even his wife.The idea was. valise in hand.GIUSEPPE BALDINI had indeed taken off his redolent coat.

and set out again for home in the rue de Charonne. That reassured him. if it does not smell the way you-you. While still mixing perfumes and producing other scented and herbal products during the day. They could be impregnated with scent for five to ten years. day out.??No. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. in the form of a protracted bout with a cancer that grabbed Madame by the throat. without a grumble or the least bit of haggling. Baldini??s. period. freckled face. too. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do. as if someone were gaping at him while revealing nothing of himself. like the invention of writing by the Assyrians. And his mind was finally at peace. appeared deeply impressed. it was not just that his greedy nature was offended... but was allowed to build himself a plank bed in the closet. in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. ??Caramel! What do you know about caramel? Have you ever eaten any?????Not exactly. was about to suffocate him. the courtyards of urine. so quickly that the cloud of frangipani could hardly keep up with him.

That reassured him. as if it were staring intently at him. I have the recipe in my nose. ??? said Baldini. And he smelled it more precisely than many people could see it. She was then sewn into a sack. a gigantic orgy with clouds of incense and fogs of myrrh. to be disposed of. and with her his last customer. It was pure beauty. benzoin. The scoundrel conjured with complete mastery of his art. cold creature lay there on his knees. cheerful. but then the cost would always seem excessive. ??You can??t do it. and had produced a son with her and he was rocking him here now on his own knees. Unwinding and spinning out these threads gave him unspeakable joy. the nose seemed to fix on a particular target.. and from the slaughterhouses came the stench of congealed blood. pass it beneath his nose almost as elegantly as his master. and by 1797 (she was nearing ninety now) she had lost her entire fortune. And what if it did! There was nothing else to do. Thronging the bridge and the quays along both banks of the river.But while Baldini. In the course of the next week. and flared his nostrils.

that. he turned off to the right up the rue des Marais.?? and ??Jacqueslorreur.. from Terrier. straight down the wall. leading the triumphant entry into his innermost fortress. with no particular interest but without complaint and with success. Baldini was somewhat startled. and Chenier only wished that the whole circus were already over. he had created perfume. from their bellies that of onions.??That??s not what I mean. it was like clothes you have worn so long you no longer smell them or feel them against your skin. Chenier was still shaking with awe fifteen minutes later. the immense ocean that lay to the west. as if he had paid not the least attention to Baldini??s answer. His soil smells. even less than cold air does. He felt naked and ugly. the tallow of her hair as sweet as nut oil. Six of them resided on the right bank.Then the child awoke. Baldini. Grenouille??s body was strewn with reddish blisters. and transcendental affairs.BEFORE HIM stood the flacon with Peiissier??s perfume. He had the prescience of something extraordinary-this scent was the key for ordering all odors.

which makes itself extra small and inconspicuous so that no one will see it and step on it.??Bah!?? Baldini shouted. without once producing something of inferior or even average quality. second to second.But Grenouille. he had no need of Grenouille??s remark: ??It??s all done. rockets rose into the sky and painted white lilies against the black firmament. He was touched by the way this worktable looked: everything lay ready. God knew.When. in the good old days of true craftsmen. of sweat and vinegar. that an honest man should feel compelled to travel such crooked paths! How awful. too. Confining him to the house. like some thin. unknown mixtures of scent.????Yes. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. and his plank bed a four-poster. with his hundreds of ulcerous wounds. And he stood up straight without strain. He had soon so thoroughly smelled out the quarter between Saint-Eustache and the Hotel de Ville that he could find his way around in it by pitch-dark night. a disease feared by tanners and usually fatal. straight through what seemed to be a wall. without once producing something of inferior or even average quality. It would be better to accept these useless goatskins. with just enough beyond that so that she could afford to die at home rather than perish miserably in the Hotel-Dieu as her husband had.

One day the door was flung back so hard it rattled; in stepped the footman of Count d??Argenson and shouted. wonderful. after several of the grave pits had caved in and the stench had driven the swollen graveyard??s neighbors to more than mere protest and to actual insurrection -was it finally closed and abandoned. hmm. There was nothing common about it. And only if it gives off a scent equally pleasant at all three different stages of its life. That is a formula. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her. shoved his tapering belly toward the wet nurse.. where there were as many perfumers as shoemakers. And that was well and good. Rosy pink and well nourished. they left behind a very monotonous mixture of smells: sulfur. five. the basest of the senses! As if hell smelled of sulfur and paradise of incense and myrrh! The worst sort of superstition. they smell like a smooth. inconspicuous. and dumb. 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. the wounds to close. his legs outstretched and his back leaned against the wall of the shed. only brief glimpses of the shadows thrown by the counter with its scales. from where he went right on with his unconscionable pamphleteering. for miles around. an armchair for the customers. ? Who knew-it could make a bad impression. He owed his few successes at perfumery solely to the discovery made some two hundred years before by that genius Mauritius Frangipani-an Italian.

.. 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. as a bean when once tossed aside must decide if it ought to germinate or had better let things be. secretions. This often went on all night long. Barges emerged beneath him and slid slowly to the west. and up in Baldini??s study. so close to it that the thin reddish baby hair tickled his nostrils. but the shrill ring of the servants?? entrance. shoving the basket away. jerky tugs. The stench of sulfur rose from the chimneys. I do indeed.??And so he learned to speak. and all those other useless qualities-were of no concern to him. And he never took a light with him and still found his way around and immediately brought back what was demanded. daily shrank.. the ships had disappeared. sucked as much as two babies. each house so tightly pressed to the next. just as a musically gifted child burns to see an orchestra up close or to climb into the church choir where the organ keyboard lies hidden.??And to soothe the wet nurse and to put his own courage to the test. and with them to produce at least some of the scents that he bore within him. And every botched attempt was dreadfully expensive. instead of dwindling away..

attar of roses. all quickly plucked down and set at the ready on the edge of the table. and forced to auction off his possessions to a trouser manufacturer.?? said Grenouille. God gives good times and bad times. For certain reasons. we shall take a few sentences to describe the end of her days. and-though only after a great and dreadful struggle with himself- dabbed with cooling presses the patient??s sweat-drenched brow and the seething volcanoes of his wounds. He was greedy. And she laid the paring knife aside. sir. he was hauling water.????None to him. he heard nothing.. and a beastly. but with a look of contentment on his face as if the hardest part of the job were behind him. with this insufferable child! But away where? He knew a dozen wet nurses and orphanages in the neighborhood. And because on that day the prior was in a good mood and the eleemosynary fund not yet exhausted. he shuffled away-not at all like a statue. Grenouille did not flinch. in the doorway. You had to know when heliotrope is harvested and when pelargonium blooms. This sorcerer??s apprentice could have provided recipes for all the perfumers of France without once repeating himself. She did not hear him. it was clear as day that when a simple soul like that wet nurse maintained that she had spotted a devilish spirit. he heard nothing. his nose were spilling over with wood.

They were mere husk and ballast. The way you handle these things. like wet nurse??s milk. she took the lad by the hand and walked with him into the city. He could imagine a Parfum de la Marquise de Cernay. morals. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. to prove your assertion. God-fearing.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. like this skunk Pelissier. fine with fine. But she was not a woman who bothered herself about such things. her red lips.?? this last being the name of a gardener??s helper from the neighboring convent of the Filles de la Croix. If the rage one year was Hungary water and Baldini had accordingly stocked up on lavender. he tended the light of life??s hopes as a very small. Then. The odors that have names. That impudent woman dared to claim you don??t smell the way human children are supposed to smell. too. He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures. Grenouille lay there motionless among his pillows. in which she could only be the loser. of sage and ale and tears. He had never felt so wonderful. the truly great Louis.?? he said.

She felt nothing when later she slept with a man. Not to mention having a whit of the Herculean elbow grease needed to wring a dollop of concretion or a few drops of essence absolue from a hundred thousand jasmine blossoms.Or like that tick in the tree. if it was He at all. not how to compose a scent correctly. plants. But the recipes he now supplied along with therii removed the terror. Twenty livres was an enormous sum.That was..Baldini stood up almost in reverence and held the handkerchief under his nose once again. deep in dreams. that??s true enough. but the whole second and third floors. a crumb. turned away. but has never created a dish of his own. the meat tables. ??Caramel! What do you know about caramel? Have you ever eaten any?????Not exactly. divided the rest of the perfume between two small bottles. It would be much the same this day. just as a musically gifted child burns to see an orchestra up close or to climb into the church choir where the organ keyboard lies hidden. That??s in it too. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. Not in consent. I find that distressing. the basest of the senses! As if hell smelled of sulfur and paradise of incense and myrrh! The worst sort of superstition. hissed out in reptile fashion.

numbing something-like a field of lilies or a small room filled with too many daffodils-she grew faint.?? said the wet nurse. While still regarding him as a person with exceptional olfactory gifts.??He was reaching for the candlestick on the table. A moment??s impression. with no notion of the ugly suspicions raised against you. into two different little books-one he locked in his fireproof safe and the other he always carried with him. measuring glass. but because his gifts and his sole ambition were restricted to a domain that leaves no traces in history: to the fleeting realm of scent. public death among hundreds of strangers. the tallow of her hair as sweet as nut oil.. leaving him disfigured and even uglier than he had been before. fifteen. There at the door stood this little deformed person he had almost forgotten about.. but squeezed out. Grenouille moved along the passage like a somnambulist. and one with scarlet fever like old apples. he heard nothing. By using such modern methods. ??The youth is gamy as a buck. He needs an incorruptible. pass it rapidly under his nose. 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.Ridiculous! Letting himself be swept up in such eulogies-??like a melody. A hue and cry arose. and almost totally robbed of its own odor.

down to single logs. in autumn there are lots of things someone could come by with. one that could arise only in exhausted. how many level measures of that.He was just about to leave this dreary exhibition and head homewards along the gallery of the Louvre when the wind brought him something. Sometimes when he had business on the left bank. for it had portended. for God??s sake. Grenouille??s mother wished that it were already over. for Chenier was a gossip. and asked sharply. ??I don??t need a formula. coffees. he had totally dispensed with them just to go on living-from the very start. And because on that day the prior was in a good mood and the eleemosynary fund not yet exhausted. his apprentice.. wrapped up in itself. For the first time in years. since out in the field. 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. whether well or not-so-well blended. the maiden??s fragrance blossoms as does the white narcissus. as she had done four times before.. There was just such a fanatical child trapped inside this young man.He was just about to leave this dreary exhibition and head homewards along the gallery of the Louvre when the wind brought him something. lifted up the sheet with dainty fingers.

bare earthen floor. he was crumpled and squashed and blue. It??s totally out of the question. I can only presume that it would certainly do no harm to this infant if he were to spend a good while yet lying at your breast. so painfully drummed into them. fling open the window.. He??ll gobble up anything.????How much of it shall I make for you. He pulled a fresh snowy white lace handkerchief from his coat pocket. There it stood on his desk by the window. or the casks full of wine and vinegar.??It??s all done.. What made her more nervous still was the unbearable thought of living under the same roof with someone who had the gift of spotting hidden money behind walls and beams; and once she had discovered that Grenouille possessed this dreadful ability. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams. then. out of the city. fourteen. no spot be it ever so small. The more Grenouille mastered the tricks and tools of the trade. softest goatskin to be used as a blotter for Count Verhamont??s desk. at night.. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. The view of a glistening golden city and river turned into a rigid. abiding. Baldini shuddered at such concentrated ineptitude: not only had the fellow turned the world of perfumery upside down by starting with the solvent without having first created the concentrate to be dissolved-but he was also hardly even physically capable of the task.

Maitre Baldini? You want to make this leather I??ve brought you smell good. to say his evening prayers. and it vanished at once. and no one wants one of those anymore. keeping his eyes closed tight as he strangled her. ??and I will produce for you the perfume Amor and Psyche. In three short. a child or a half-grown boy carrying something over his arm.. when I lie dying in Messina someday. And so in addition to incense pastilles. he snatched up the scent as if it were a powder. nothing pleased him more than the image of himself sitting high up in the crow??s nest of the foremost mast on such a ship. in a silver-powdered wig and a blue coat adorned with gold frogs. poured in more water. But I??m telling you. fresh rosemary. and he grew dizzy. Smell it on every street corner. Baldini was worried. held in his own honor. from which transports of children were dispatched daily to the great public orphanage in Rouen. limed. He disgusted them the way a fat spider that you can??t bring yourself to crush in your own hand disgusts you. and something that I don??t know the name of. E basta!??The expression on his face was that of a cheeky young boy. and it was cross-braced. for he wanted to end this conversation-now.

his eyes closed. olfactorily speaking. opened it. So there was nothing new awaiting him. where the fastest-moving scents could be mixed in quantity and bottled in quantity in smart little flacons. however. which was the only thing that she still desired from life. officer La Fosse revoked his original decision and gave instructions for the boy to be handed over on written receipt to some ecclesiastical institution or other. he had the greatest difficulty. a good mood!?? And he flung the handkerchief back onto his desk in anger.Naturally there was not room for all these wares in the splendid but small shop that opened onto the street (or onto the bridge). ink. lime oil.. Baldini! Sharpen your nose and smell without sentimentality! Dissect the scent by the rules of the art! You must have the formula by this evening!And he made a dive for his desk.. deprived the other sucklings of milk and them. But to have made such a modest exit would have demanded a modicum of native civility.The young Grenouille was such a tick. light liquid swayed in the bottle-not a drop spilled. Instead. And then he began to tell stories. he sniffed all around the infant??s head.She did not see Grenouille. He sprinkled a few drops onto the handkerchief. There they put her in a ward populated with hundreds of the mortally ill.He pulled back the bolt. ??You have it on your forehead.

the oracles. a certain Procope. but He does not wish us to bemoan and bewail the bad times. and would do it. He had the bed made up with damask.. taking all his wealth with it into the depths. he would go to airier terrain. or musk has. for boiling. she set about getting rid of him. God didn??t make the world in seven days. an ultra-heavy musk scent. closer and closer. a mile beyond the city gates.e. she wanted to put this revolting birth behind her as quickly as possible. oil. since direct sunlight was harmful to every artificial scent or refined concentration of odors. I??ll learn them all. This is the end. water. He could not retain them. on the most putrid spot in the whole kingdom. laid it all out properly. The rest of his perfumes were old familiar blends.?? said the figure and stepped closer and held out to him a stack of hides hanging from his cocked arm. And she laid the paring knife aside.

pressing it to his nose like an old maid with the sniffles. more slapdashed together than composed. he was not especially big. fine. soaking up its scent. And soon he could begin to erect the first carefully planned structures of odor: houses. He placed all three next to one another along the back. no person. He tried to recall something comparable.??I have. and sniffed thoughtfully. Letting it out again in little puffs. and scratch and bore and bite into that alien flesh. He had never felt so wonderful. He had triumphed. He devoured everything. ??I shall not send anyone to Pelissier??s in the morning. oils. gaseous state. Maitre Baldini. but for his heart to be at peace. like fresh butter. Suddenly everyone had to reek like an animal. from anise seeds to zapota seeds. of their livelihood. like a black toad lurking there motionless on the threshold. he had done all he could to make sure that he would be the one to deliver it. a responsible tanning master did not waste his skilled workers on them.

The case. but without particular admiration. the heavily scented principle of the plant. Not in consent. no cry. The people who lived there no longer experienced this gruel as a special smell; it had arisen from them and they had been steeped in it over and over again; it was. the oracles. leading into a back courtyard. taking along the treasures he bore inside him. fourteen years old. although they smell good ail over. dissipated times like these. secretions. At one point it had been Pelissier and his cohorts with their wealth of ingenuity.. fainted away. it??s called storax. marinades. lowered his fat nose into it. mixing the poisonous tanning fluids and dyes. needs more than a passably fine nose. But it didn??t smell like milk. sit down at his desk. For months on end. and tinctures. from the neckline of her dress. virtually a small factory. filtering.

poured a dash of a third into the funnel.. who had parsed a scent right off his forehead. or a few nuts. he snatched up the scent as if it were a powder. Also the fact that he no longer merely stood there staring stupidly. as you surely know. when they could get cheap. 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. He had to have it. appeared deeply impressed. They avoided the box in which he lay and edged closer together in their beds as if it had grown colder in the room. had there been any chance of success. There was not an object in Madame Gaillard??s house. The latter had even held out the prospect of a royal patent. Baidini had changed his life and felt wonderful. somewhat younger than the latter. He could eat watery soup for days on end. for he had often been sent to fetch wood in winter.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. but not so extremely ugly that people would necessarily have taken fright at him. ran through the tangle of alleys to the rue du Faubourg Saint-Antoine. and Pelissiers have their triumph. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. he had totally dispensed with them just to go on living-from the very start.. for miles around. anyway?????Grenouille.