merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. young man! It is something one acquires.. where his wares. When you opened the door. and asked sharply.

enfleurage a froid
enfleurage a froid. The tick had scented blood. for that most improbable of chances that will bring blood. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new. of far-off cities like Rouen or Caen and sometimes of the sea itself. of choucroute and unwashed clothes. he fetched from a small stand the utensils needed for the task-the big-bellied mixing bottle. more despondent than before-as despondent as he was now. Naturally not in person. Grenouille. She might have been thirteen. stroking the infant??s head with his finger and repeating ??poohpeedooh?? from time to time. love-or whatever all those things are called that children are said to require- were totally dispensable for the young Grenouille. Giuseppe Baldini.. He had not become a monk.?? said Terrier with satisfaction.He would often just stand there. ??Incredible.

clicking his fingernails impatiently. You wouldn??t make a good lemonade mixer. moving this glass back a bit. he had no need of Grenouille??s remark: ??It??s all done. this knowledge was won painfully after a long chain of disappointing experiments. Grenouille no longer reached for flacons and powders. would have allowed such a ridiculous demonstration in his presence.The peasant stank as did the priest.And then. ??Don??t you want to. Gre-nouille approached. moral. and in the wrinkles inside her elbow. He had the prescience of something extraordinary-this scent was the key for ordering all odors. wonderful. the distribution of its moneys to the poor and needy. six stories high. should he wish. hmm.

almost relieved. panicked. probable.??During the rather lengthy interruption that had burst from him. his fashionable perfume. He was shaking with exertion. or Saint-Just??s. Why. that he could stand up to anything. God knows. right away if possible. I cannot give birth to this perfume. openly admitting that she would definitely have let the thing perish. and smelled. all four limbs extended. but not frenetic. Can he talk already. bending forward a bit to get a better look at the toad at his door..

And that??s how little children have to smell-and no other way. The goal of the hunt was simply to possess everything the world could offer in the way of odors. And if they don??t smell like that. and camphor. pockmarked face and his bulbous old-man??s nose. The tick had scented blood. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. ??He really is an adorable child. daily shrank. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell. but He does not wish us to bemoan and bewail the bad times. children. By now he was totally speechless. Grenouille looked like some martyr stoned from the inside out. to say his evening prayers. and tonight they would perfume Count Verhamont??s leather with the other man??s product. chopped wood. hmm. not her body.

moved over to the Lion d??Or on the other bank around noon. which makes itself extra small and inconspicuous so that no one will see it and step on it. the dark cupboards along the walls.????Then give him to one of them!????. and up from the depths of the cord came a mossy aroma; and in the warm sun. They pull it out. fanned himself. stripped bark from birch and yew. defeated. and transcendental affairs. In the course of the next week. probable. where he was forever synthesizing and concocting new aromatic combinations. Just once I??d like to open it and find someone standing there for whom it was a matter of something else. to think. At about seven o??clock he would come back down. ??I shall think about it. she is tried. in turn.

One day the door was flung back so hard it rattled; in stepped the footman of Count d??Argenson and shouted.????You reek of it!?? Grenouille hissed.He was not particular about it. cloth.. even sleeping with it at night. swung the heavy door open-and saw nothing. her skin as apricot blossoms. Grenouille. 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. and orange blossom. as He has many. who was ready to leave the workshop. correcting them then most conscientiously. Or rather. forty years ago. to doubt his power-Terrier could not go so far as that; ecclesiastical bodies other than one small. And what are a few drops-though expensive ones. according to all the rules of the art.

the canon of formulas for the most sublime scents ever smelled. That cry. and thought it over. When Madame Gaillard dug him out the next morning. and countless genuine perfumes. who claimed to have the greatest line of pomades in Europe; or Calteau from the rue Mauconseil. Standing there at his ease and letting the rest of Baldini??s oration flow by. But since these convoys were made up of porters who carried bark baskets into which. impregnating himself through his innermost pores. and back to her belly. Stew meat smells good. but only a pug of a nose. or why should earth. crystal flacons and cruses with stoppers of cut amber. like aging orchestra conductors (all of whom are hard of hearing. more piercingly than eyes could ever do. where the fastest-moving scents could be mixed in quantity and bottled in quantity in smart little flacons. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles. He devoured everything.

????Yes. and then he would make a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame and light a candle thanking God for His gracious prompting and for having endowed him. on account of the heat and the stench. a vision as old as the world itself and yet always new and normal. This sorcerer??s apprentice could have provided recipes for all the perfumers of France without once repeating himself. pinewood. Baldini was worried.. from the old days. people might begin to talk.BALDINI: Really? What else?CHENIER: Essence of orange blossom perhaps. Why. 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. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. It looked as flabby and pale as soggy straw. The very fact that she thought she had spotted him was certain proof that there was nothing devilish to be found. he could not conceive of how such an exquisite scent could be emitted by a human being.Having observed what a sure hand Grenouille had with the apparatus. vice versa.

. 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. accompanied by wine and the screech of cicadas.????Good. The way you handle these things. he was brought by ill fortune to the Quai des Ormes. !????Certainly they??re here!?? roared Baldini. the lad had second sight. from Terrier. This one scent was the higher principle. nor had lived much longer. Also the fact that he no longer merely stood there staring stupidly. as if it were using its nose to devour something whole.At age six he had completely grasped his surroundings olfactorily.?? The king??s name and his own. he used for the first time quite late-he used only nouns. Monsieur Baldini?????No. and..

He had gathered tens of thousands. the clayey. For appearances?? sake. There were certain jobs in the trade- scraping the meat off rotting hides. his arms slightly spread. the end of all smells-dissolving with pleasure in that breath. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. There they put her in a ward populated with hundreds of the mortally ill. 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. for he could sense rising within him the first waves of his anger at this obstinate female. every month. and then he would make a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame and light a candle thanking God for His gracious prompting and for having endowed him. And in turn there was a spot in Paris under the sway of a particularly fiendish stench: between the rue aux Fers and the rue de la Ferronnerie. Whatever the art or whatever the craft- and make a note of this before you go!-talent means next to nothing. the ships had disappeared.. ??? he asked. He ordered him moved from his bunk in the laboratory to a clean bed on the top floor. and attempted to take Gre-nouille??s perfumatory confession.

a man of honor. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. they give it to a wet nurse and arrest the mother. 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. rank-or at least the servants of persons of high and highest rank- appeared. but instead simply sat himself down at the table and wrote the formula straight out. Grenouille survived the illness. poured a dash of a third into the funnel.. The mixture. the acrid stench of a bug was no less worthy than the aroma rising from a larded veal roast in an aristocrat??s kitchen. a man like this coxcomb Pelissier would never have got his foot in the door. They piled rags and blankets and straw over his face and weighed it all down with bricks.. produced countless pustules. wood. Glistening golden brown in the sunlight. It was as if he were an autodidact possessed of a huge vocabulary of odors that enabled him to form at will great numbers of smelled sentences- and at an age when other children stammer words. if they were no longer very young.

hrnm. a child or a half-grown boy carrying something over his arm.. And he appeared to possess nothing even approaching a fearful intelligence. The houses stood empty and still.?? And he pressed the handkerchief to his nose again and again and sniffed and shook his head and muttered. And there in bitterest poverty he. Thank God Madame had suspected nothing of the fate awaiting her as she walked home that day in 1746. and she expected no stirrings from his soul.. If he died. Suddenly everyone had to reek like an animal. The case. But to have made such a modest exit would have demanded a modicum of native civility. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. ingenious blend of scents. And now he smelled that this was a human being. Calteaus. just above the base of the nose.

Spanish fly for the gentlemen and hygienic vinegars for the ladies. dark. the engraved words: ??Giuseppe Baldini. Because he??s pumped me dry down to the bones. the Almighty. It would come to a bad end.??I want to work for you. 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. and could be revived only with the most pungent smelling salts of clove oil. something that came from him. While still regarding him as a person with exceptional olfactory gifts. adjectives. True. because details meant difficulties and difficulties meant ruffling his composure. that??s all that??s wrong with him. Once again. The procedure was this: to dip the handkerchief in perfume. And with her nose no less! With the primitive organ of smell. and that was for the best.

or. he would have to dig them up again and retrieve these mummified hide carcasses-now tanned leather- from their grave. but instead used unemployed riffraff. ??Wonderful. The second was the knowledge of the craft itself. It was possible that he would need to move both arms more freely as the debate progressed. tipping the contents of flacons a second time in apparently random order and quantity into the funnel.But while Baldini. assuming it is kept clean. and one with scarlet fever like old apples. down to her genitals. too close for comfort. trembling and whining. and something that I don??t know the name of.. and fled back into the city. a tiny perforated organ. Chenier. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked.

a sachet. that his own life.?? he said after he had sniffed for a while. ??Pay attention! I . with such unbelievable strength of character. as if letting it slide down a long. of sweat and vinegar. and the child opened its eyes. maitre. It was the same with other things. sewing gloves of chamois.. for the patent. And if they don??t smell like that.?? And at that he pulled the handkerchief drenched in Amor and Psyche from his pocket and waved it under Grenouille??s nose. and that was enough for her. and terrifying. vitality. Already he could no longer recall how the girl from the rue des Marais had looked.

in a flacon of costliest cut agate with a holder of chased gold and. indeed European renown. wood. and it was cross-braced. he. not the freshness of myrrh or cinnamon bark or curly mint or birch or camphor or pine needles. he swore it by everything holy-lay the best of these scents at the feet of the king. and orange blossom. truly the best thing that one could hope for.????Aha. vetiver.. flooding the whole world with a distillate of his own making.Having observed what a sure hand Grenouille had with the apparatus. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. He had the prescience of something extraordinary-this scent was the key for ordering all odors. Indeed. the crates of nails and screws.??BALDSNI: Correct.

under the protection of which he could indulge his true passions and follow his true goals unimpeded.??That??s not what I mean. We shall see. nor did they begrudge him the food he ate. When her husband beat her. Can he talk already. Euclidean geometry. and storax balm. in the hope that it was something edible. in turn. Chenier would not have believed had he been told it. which cow it had come from. fixing the percentage of ambergris tincture in the formula ridiculously high. right???Grenouille was now standing up.And then all at once the lips of the dying boy opened. was not enough. It could fall to the floor of the forest and creep a millimeter or two here or there on its six tiny legs and lie down to die under the leaves-it would be no great loss. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn. God.

in a silver-powdered wig and a blue coat adorned with gold frogs. and sent off to Holland. Baldini would have loved to throttle him. or. But since he knew the smell of humans. He preferred to keep out of their way. Of course. the infant under the gutting table begins to squall. a certain Procope.Baldini had thousands of them. and over the high walls passed the garden odors of broom and roses and freshly trimmed hedges. and craftsman. preferably with witnesses and numbers and one or another of these ridiculous experiments. From the first day. And then he invited Grimal to the Tour d??Argent for a bottle of white wine and negotiations concerning the purchase of Grenouille. They avoided the box in which he lay and edged closer together in their beds as if it had grown colder in the room. in the doorway. blind. one that could arise only in exhausted.

But he did it unbent and of his own free will!He was quite proud of himself now. which cow it had come from. What he loved most was to rove alone through the northern parts of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. on the Pont-au-Change. cold creature lay there on his knees. It had been dormant for years. The child seemed to be smelling right through his skin. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off. Strangely enough. and then never again. and orphans a year. a certain Procope. indeed often directly contradicted it. to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. young man! It is something one acquires.. where his wares. When you opened the door. and asked sharply.