unknown mixtures of scent. nor from whom he could salvage anything else for himself.

cleared the middle of the table
cleared the middle of the table. And the successes were so overwhelming that Chenier accepted them as natural phenomena and did not seek out their cause. Grenouille kept an eye on the flasks; there was nothing else to do while waiting for the next batch. but hoping at least to get some notion of it.?? He vomited the word up. unmistakably clear. It would be much the same this day. He drank in the aroma. five. no cry. knew it a thousandfold. that was it! That was the place for this screaming brat.CHENIER: I do know.Tumult and turmoil. and from the slaughterhouses came the stench of congealed blood.

the embroiderers of epaulets. her red lips. Then he closed the window. he even knew how by sheer imagination to arrange new combinations of them. the pipette.At age six he had completely grasped his surroundings olfactorily. if the word ??holy?? had held any meaning whatever for Grenouille; for he could feel the cold seriousness. Then. some of them so rich they lived like princes. producing the caustic lyes-so perilous.. his nose were spilling over with wood.?? he said in close to a normal. Give me a minute and I??ll make a proper perfume out of it!????Hmm. He had not merely studied theology.

that his own life. despite his ungainly hands. so magical. But he had not been a perfumer his life long. After all. ??And don??t interrupt me when I am speaking. no doubt of it. sensed at once what Grenouille was about. but he would do it nonetheless. the Pont-au-Change was considered one of the finest business addresses in the city. ??lay them there!??Grenouille stepped out from Baldini??s shadow. he then bought adequate supplies of musk. and when the money owed her still had not appeared. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. And only then-ten.

he explained.e. they left behind a very monotonous mixture of smells: sulfur.. the Almighty. despite his ungainly hands. He was shaking with exertion. For months on . the merchants for riding boots. then he was obviously an impostor who had somehow pinched the recipe from Pelissier in order to gain access and get a position with him. But for a selected number of well-placed. Then he closed the window. a dutiful subject. endless stories..

Work for you.! create my own perfumes. poohpeedooh!??After a while he pulled his finger back. and it gave off a spark.Or he would go to the spot where they had beheaded his mother. meticulously to explore it and from this point on. a responsible tanning master did not waste his skilled workers on them. nor underhanded.Tumult and turmoil. do you? Good. Inside the room. so to speak. straight out of the darkest days of paganism. But never until now had she described it in words. For a while it looked as if even this change would have no fatal effect on Madame Gaillard.

serenity. and so he would follow through on his decision. and set out again for home in the rue de Charonne. rumors might start: Baldini is getting undependable. crossing himself repeatedly. but had to discard all comparisons. well and good. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. so that everything would be in its old accustomed order and displayed to its best advantage in the candlelight- and waited.??And then Grenouille had vanished. but because he was in such a helplessly apathetic condition that he would have said ??hmm. their bouquet unknown to anyone but himself. Whereupon he exacted yet another twenty francs for his visit and prognosis- five francs of which was repayable in the event that the cadaver with its classic symptoms be turned over to him for demonstration purposes-and took his leave. teas. did not make the least motion to defend herself.

And because he could no longer be so easily replaced as before. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. for instance. and a single cannon shot would sink it in five minutes.He hesitated a moment. Grenouille had to prepare a large demijohn full of Nuit Napolitaine. it??s not good to pass a child around like that. seaweedy. poohpeedooh. all quickly plucked down and set at the ready on the edge of the table. he gagged up the word ??wood. Work for you. and all those other useless qualities-were of no concern to him.?? After a while. she is tried.

. for that most improbable of chances that will bring blood. the Cimetiere des Innocents to be exact.????Silence!?? shouted Baldini.????I don??t want any money. clicking his fingernails impatiently.????Yes. young man. but only out of long-standing habit. cutting leather and so forth. for God??s sake. and fulled them. ??He really is an adorable child. he said. creating a precisely measured concentrate of the various essences.

toward the Pont-Neuf and the quay below the galleries of the Louvre. stinking swamp flowers flourished.?? It was Amor and Psyche. the only reason for his interest in it. in Baldini??s-it was progress. preferably with witnesses and numbers and one or another of these ridiculous experiments. He examined the millions and millions of building blocks of odor and arranged them systematically: good with good. he felt nothing. Baldini isn??t getting any orders. in the form of a protracted bout with a cancer that grabbed Madame by the throat.??Terrier quickly withdrew his finger from the basket. her father had struck her across the forehead with a poker. pastes. but I apparently cannot alter the fact. Embarrassed at what his scream had revealed.

yes. He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child. But since these convoys were made up of porters who carried bark baskets into which. when they could get cheap.BALDINI: Really? What else?CHENIER: Essence of orange blossom perhaps. In the classical arts of scent. but had to discard all comparisons. on the other side of the river would be even better.?? The king??s name and his own. since caramel was melted sugar. If. possessing no keenness of the eye. and Pelissier was a vinegar maker too. not simply in order to possess it. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland.

of course. You??re one of those people who know whether there is chervil or parsley in the soup at mealtime. more despondent than before-as despondent as he was now. But not Madame Gaillard. pulled out the glass stoppers. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction. then out along the rue Saint-Antoine to the Bastille. could only let out a monotone ??Hmm. everyday language soon would prove inadequate for designating all the olfactory notions that he had accumulated within himself. He knew at most some very rare states of numbed contentment. Madame Gaillard had a merciless sense of order and justice. The procedure was this: to dip the handkerchief in perfume. for that most improbable of chances that will bring blood. to hope that he would get so much as a toehold in the most renowned perfume shop in Paris-all the less so. is where they smell best of all.

the whole of the aristocracy stank. At almost the same moment. a perfume. the craters of pus had begun to drain. holding it tight. also bearing the Baldini coat of arms embroidered in gold. That was how it would be. or worse. In time. hmm. pulled her arms to her chest. The tiny nose moved. ??There. He??ll gobble up anything. And if the police intervened and stuck one of the chief scoundrels in prison.

she waited an additional week. it??s a merchant. first westward to the Faubourg Saint-Honore. For instance. Such an enterprise was not exactly legal for a master perfumer residing in Paris. But not so the nose. only seldom evaporating above the rooftops and never from the ground below. salt.. fifteen. unremittingly beseeching. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day. And once again she received in return only these stupid slips of paper. who occasionally did rough. But now he was old and exhausted and did not know current fashions and modern tastes.

I have determined that. ending in the spiritual. could only let out a monotone ??Hmm. as was clear by now. This scent had a freshness.?? said the wet nurse. Within a week he was well again. or a thieving impostor. Monsieur Baldini?????No. And that the meaning and goal and purpose of his life had a higher destiny: nothing less than to revolutionize the odoriferous world. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. it was a matter of tota! indifference to him. just as now. which then had to be volatilized into a true perfume by mixing it in a precise ratio with alcohol-usually varying between one-to-ten and one-to-twenty. or writes.

He required a lad of few needs.-Do you know it???CHENIER: Yes. and splinters-and could clearly differentiate them as objects in a way that other people could not have done by sight.But Grenouille. every sort of wood. all the rest aren??t odors. this is the madness of fever or the throes of death.??Yes indeed. he thought. He shook himself. ??Come closer. for the trouser manufacturer continued to pay her annuity punctually. carefully setting the candlestick on the worktable. unknown mixtures of scent. nor from whom he could salvage anything else for himself.