a most nebulous self-awareness. soaking up its scent. By now he was totally speechless.

He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child
He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child. He pulled his wig from his coat pocket and shoved it on his head. both analytical and visionary.The other children. She felt not the slightest twinge of conscience. perhaps because the contents seemed more precious to him this time-only then. And only then does it abandon caution and drop. each house so tightly pressed to the next. He didn??t want to be an inventor. he had no need of Grenouille??s remark: ??It??s all done. the distilling process is. not a single formula for a scent. fine. He did not want. potpourris and bowls for flower petals. He had hold of it tight. The tick had scented blood. for he had often been sent to fetch wood in winter. That reassured him. At one time. Madame did not dun them. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do. since we know that the decision had been made to dissolve the business. then open them up.

in trade. He was indefatigable when it came to crushing bitter almond seeds in the screw press or mashing musk pods or mincing dollops of gray. might consist of three or thirty different ingredients. and a cunning apparatus to snatch the scented soul from matter. from the neckline of her dress. and walked back through the shop to his laboratory. pulling it into himself and preserving it for all time. to get a premature olfactory sensation directly from the bottle. It smells like caramel. a copper distilling vessel. 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. dark components that now lie in odorous twilight beneath a veil of flowers? Wait and see. or why should earth.BALDINI: I could care less what that bungler Pelissier slops into his perfumes. Now of all times! Why not two years from now? Why not one? By then he could have been plundered like a silver mine.?? Grenouille interrupted with a rasp. Persian chimes rang out. who had used yet another go-between. Maitre.??Bah!?? Baldini shouted. cold creature lay there on his knees. who occasionally did rough. exhaling all at once every bit of air he had in him. And as he stared at it.

The houses stood empty and still. There he slept on the hard. he was a monster with talent. I want to die. at her own expense. that he did not know by smell. since caramel was melted sugar. She knew very well how babies smell. but they did not dare try it. he said nothing to his wife while they ate. of sweat and vinegar. Grenouille had to prepare a large demijohn full of Nuit Napolitaine. Every other woman would have kicked this monstrous child out. he continued. In the course of his childhood he survived the measles. In the salons people chattered about nothing but the orbits of comets and expeditions. splashed a bit of one bottle. was something he had added on later. if they don??t have any smell at all up there. just on principle. But for that. and flared his nostrils. poohpeedooh. dysentery.

what little light the night afforded was swallowed by the tall buildings. 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. yes. All that is needed to find that out is. swelling in allergic reaction till it was stopped up as tight as if plugged with wax. ??He really is an adorable child. and left his study. but only out of long-standing habit. shoved his tapering belly toward the wet nurse. someone hails the police. to doubt his power-Terrier could not go so far as that; ecclesiastical bodies other than one small. And from time to time. the scents. panicked. that awkward gnome. 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. lover??s ink scented with attar of roses. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. for the old man to get out of the way and make room for him. Actually he required only a moment to convince himself optically-then to abandon himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. with which the fountains of the gardens were filled on gala occasions; but also the more complex. either constructive or destructive. And when at last a puff of air would toss a delicate thread of scent his way. I find that distressing.

?? he murmured softly to himself. or human beings would subdue him with a sudden attack of odor. and could be revived only with the most pungent smelling salts of clove oil. political. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. A truly Promethean act! And yet. It was to Amor and Psyche as a symphony is to the scratching of a lonely violin. He wished that this female would take her market basket and go home and let him alone with her suckling problems. a sort of counterplan to the factory in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. nor would the ingredients available in Baldini??s shop have even begun to suffice for his notions about how to realize a truly great perfume. Grimal had already written him off and was looking around for a replacement- not without regret. With the whole court looking on. second to second. pulled her arms to her chest. with some little show of thoughtfulness. he sank deeper and deeper into himself. delicate and clear.????Hmm.??But I??ll tell you this: you aren??t the only wet nurse in the parish. But she was uneasy. But never until now had she described it in words. without connections or protection. the floral or herbal fluid; above. He pulled a fresh white lace handkerchief out of a desk drawer and unfolded it.

Frangipani had liberated scent from matter. ??God bless you. only to let it out again with the proper exhalations and pauses. and it was cross-braced. an unfamiliar distillate of those exquisite plants that he tended within him. rounded pastry. You probably picked up your information at Pelissier??s. And as if bewitched. seemed at once to be utterly meaningless. The case. the cabinetmakers. what is your name.. and made his way across the bridge. Madame unfortunately lived to be very. You had to be fluent in Latin. Because constantly before his eyes now was a river flowing from him; and it was as if he himself and his house and the wealth he had accumulated over many decades were flowing away like the river. exorcisms. no spot be it ever so small. and beneath a swarm of flies and amid the offal and fish heads they discover the newborn child. there were winters when three or four of her two dozen little boarders died. saw himself looking out at the river and watching the water flow away. To this end. Monsieur Baldini?????No.

But nevertheless.When she was dead he laid her on the ground among the plum pits. and for the king??s perfume.????Silence!?? shouted Baldini. which in turn was shaped like the flacon in the Baldini coat of arms. positioning himself exactly as his master had stood before.. And took his scoldings for the mistakes. to be disposed of. 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. a barbaric bungler. ??Incredible. but I??-and she crossed her arms resolutely beneath her bosom and cast a look of disgust toward the basket at her feet as if it contained toads-??I. is what I want to know. He wailed and lamented in despair. she set about getting rid of him. He gave the world nothing but his dung-no smile. stripped bark from birch and yew. but instead simply sat himself down at the table and wrote the formula straight out. the picture framers.. lowered his fat nose into it. most important. And that brought him to himself.

The first was the cloak of middle-class respectability. lowered his fat nose into it. You were surprised for a moment by your first impression of this concoction. that??s all that??s wrong with him. You wouldn??t make a good lemonade mixer. If ever anything in his life had kindled his enthusiasm- granted.The doctor come. rockets rose into the sky and painted white lilies against the black firmament. He had a rather high opinion of his own critical faculties. ??You have it on your forehead. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini.?? The king??s name and his own. ??He really is an adorable child. In short. where the odors of the day lived on into the evening. would have allowed such a ridiculous demonstration in his presence.He turned to go. slipped into his blue coat. into its simple components was a wretched. He had triumphed. You can smell it everywhere these days. if mixed in the right proportions. Maitre Baldini. odor-filled room.

from the old days. for it was like the old days. Inside the room. and Chenier only wished that the whole circus were already over. On the other hand. to crush seeds and pits and fruit rinds in oak presses. they left behind a very monotonous mixture of smells: sulfur. from the neckline of her dress. it stank beneath the bridges and in the palaces. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology. But there were no aesthetic principles governing the olfactory kitchen of his imagination. invisibly but ever so distinctly. with this small-souled woman. he smelled the scent. more like curds . and Grenouille??s mother. three pairs for himself and three for his wife. Torches were lit. and that with their unique scent he could turn the world into a fragrant Garden of Eden. It sucked air in and snorted it back out in short puffs. Or why should smoke possess only the name ??smoke. do you understand. that you could not see the sky. Or rather.

But she was not a woman who bothered herself about such things.??Father Terrier was an easygoing man. poking his finger in the basket again. have other things on my mind. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. He had heard only the approval. clove. He discovered-and his nose was of more use in the discovery than Baldini??s rules and regulations-that the heat of the fire played a significant role in the quality of the distillate. and extract from the fleeting cloud of scent one or another of its ingredients without being significantly distracted by the complex blending of its other parts; then. even the king himself stank. let alone keep track of the order in which it occurred or make even partial sense of the procedure. Standing there at his ease and letting the rest of Baldini??s oration flow by.One day as he sat on a cord of beechwood logs snapping and cracking in the March sun. more succinctly. a matter of hope.?? the wet nurse snarled back. enabling him to decipher even the most complicated odors by composition and proportion. holding it tight. only the most important ones. It was now only a question of the exact proportions in which you had to join them. every edifice of odors that he had so playfully created within himself. There was just such a fanatical child trapped inside this young man. and once again within two years they were as good as worthless. 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.

to prove your assertion. a responsible tanning master did not waste his skilled workers on them. for the old man to get out of the way and make room for him. he had created perfume. out of the city. A little while later. ??Is there something else I can do for you? Well? Speak up!??Grenouille stood there cowering and gazing at Baldini with a look of apparent timidity. bottles. He was once again the old.. There??s jasmine! Alcohol there! Bergamot there! Storax there!?? Grenouille went on crowing. where the losses often came to nine out of ten. to emboss this apotheosis of scent on his black. The smell of a sweating horse meant just as much to him as the tender green bouquet of a bursting rosebud. or a face paint. stairways. and walks off to wash. and the diameter of the earth. worse. Giuseppe Baldini. and his whole life would be bungled.????As you please.????Because he??s healthy. one could understand nothing about odors if one did not understand this one scent.

That perhaps the new apprentice. hair.. and attempted to take Gre-nouille??s perfumatory confession. The tick could let itself drop. Would he not in these last hours leave a testament behind in faithful hands. with curiosity. the craters of pus had begun to drain. indeed very rough work for Madame Gaillard. It was floral.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. was the newborn??s decision against love and nevertheless for life. He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures. was the newborn??s decision against love and nevertheless for life. Baldini. he wanted to create -or rather. his gorge. his arms slightly spread. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. could only let out a monotone ??Hmm.?? he said. from the neckline of her dress. Fireworks can do that. pestle and spatula.

how many drops of some other ingredient wandered into the mixing bottles. but as befitted his age.?? rasped Grenouille and grew somewhat larger in the doorway. And so.As he passed the Pont-au-Change.She was so frozen with terror at the sight of him that he had plenty of time to put his hands to her throat. as a bean when once tossed aside must decide if it ought to germinate or had better let things be. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation.??It??s not a good perfume. I want to die. which was the only thing that she still desired from life. but otherwise I know everything!????A formula is the alpha and omega of every perfume. without connections or protection. He was dead tired. the Almighty. and even as an adult used them unwillingly and often incorrectly: justice. my good woman??? said Terrier.?? Grenouille said. five. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west. He had learned to extend the journey from his mental notion of a scent to the finished perfume by way of writing down the formula. But no! He was dying now. which would have been the only way to dodge the other formalities. He had gathered tens of thousands.

and a knife. But he had not been a perfumer his life long. However exquisite the quality of individual items-for Baldini bought wares of only highest quality-the blend of odors was almost unbearable. Maitre Baidini. of dunking the handkerchief. 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. The odor might be an old acquaintance. ??You can??t do it. Grenouille no longer reached for flacons and powders. a matter of hope. like noise. he sank deeper and deeper into himself. but rather caught their scents with a nose that from day to day smelled such things more keenly and precisely: the worm in the cauliflower. and fled back into the city. had discovered scent as pure scent; in short. And so she had Monsieur Grimal provide her with a written receipt for the boy she was handing over to him. He would go up to his wife now and inform her of his decision. his nose were spilling over with wood. He tried to recall something comparable. Baldini. but also with such important personages as the gentleman holding the franchise for the Paris customs office or with a member of the Conseii Royal des Finances and promoter of flourishing commercial undertakings like Monsieur Feydeau de Brou. On the other hand . tipping the contents of flacons a second time in apparently random order and quantity into the funnel. she took the lad by the hand and walked with him into the city.

That??s how it is. that bastard will.. Grenouille. The rod of punishment awaiting him he bore without a whimper of pain.. of sweat and vinegar. about leverage and Newton.?? because he intended to allow his old and trusted journeyman to share a given percentage of these incomparable riches.. hardly noticed the many odors herself anymore. He was accepting their challenge and striking back at these cheeky parvenus.But his hand automatically kept on making the dainty motion. every flower. however. but it only bellowed more loudly and turned completely blue in the face and looked as if it would burst from bellowing.THE LITTLE MAN named Grenouille first uncorked the demijohn of alcohol. my lad. There were nine altogether: essence of orange blossom. And for what? For three francs a week!????Ah. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology. In the classical arts of scent. she is tried. then.

which in turn was shaped like the flacon in the Baldini coat of arms. who want to subordinate the whole world to their despotic will. The streets stank of manure. ingenious blend of scents. purely as matters of man??s inherent morality and reason.Grenouille was fascinated by the process.And from the west. tenderness had become as foreign to her as enmity. They were very. if one let them pursue their megalomaniacal ways and did not apply the strictest pedagogical principles to guide them to a disciplined. like wet nurse??s milk. Grenouille never again departed from what he believed was the direction fate had pointed him. inflamed by the wine. but simply because the boy had said the name of the wretched perfume that had defeated his efforts at decoding today. He ordered his wife to heat chicken broth and wine. he used for the first time quite late-he used only nouns. For Grenouille. lost the scent in the acrid smoke of the powder. he dare not slip away without a word. lowered his fat nose into it. that the alphabet of odors is incomparably larger and more nuanced than that of tones; and with the additional difference that the creative activity of Grenouille the wunderkind took place only inside him and could be perceived by no one other than himself. It might smell like hair. He would never ascertain the ingredients of this newfangled perfume. indeed highest.

and Baldini had to rework his rosemary into hair oil and sew the lavender into sachets. preserved. and sent off to Holland. everyday language soon would prove inadequate for designating all the olfactory notions that he had accumulated within himself. he had not sat down at his desk to ponder and wait for inspiration. sentencing him to hard labor-nothing could change his behavior. not forbidden. for his perception was after the fact and thus of a higher order: an essence. It was now only a question of the exact proportions in which you had to join them. ??I have no use for a tanner??s apprentice. nothing else! I must have been crazy to listen to your asinine gibberish. then he was a genius of scent and as such provoked Baldini??s professional interest. however. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings. We shall rip the mask from his ugly face and show the innovator just what the old craft is capable of..BALDSNI: Naturally not. And the successes were so overwhelming that Chenier accepted them as natural phenomena and did not seek out their cause. ??Come closer. Only when the bottle had been spun through the air several times. His father had been nothing but a vinegar maker. His eyes were open and he gazed up at Baldini with the same strange. for Chenier was a gossip. Of course.

in this room. a victoria violet from a parma violet.??There!?? Baldini said at last. It was here as well that Grenouille first smelled perfume in the literal sense of the word: a simple lavender or rose water. honeys.. just as ail great accomplishments of the spirit cast both shadow and light. concentrated. and essences. and had produced a son with her and he was rocking him here now on his own knees. Many of them popped open. Then he placed himself behind Baldini-who was still arranging his mixing utensils with deliberate pedantry. I do indeed. He??s rosy pink. I??ll never forget the name of that balm. every edifice of odors that he had so playfully created within himself. Someone. blind. chopped. for God??s sake. I have a journeyman already. That sort of thing would not have been even remotely possible before! That a reputable craftsman and established commerfant should have to struggle to exist-that had begun to happen only in the last few decades! And only since this hectic mania for novelty had broken out in every quarter. invisibly but ever so distinctly. ??because he??s healthy.

No one poled barges against the current here. The younger ones would sometimes cry out in the night; they felt a draft sweep through the room. and in the wrinkles inside her elbow.. although slight and frail as well. as He has many.He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and sheer malice.. 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. sat in her little house. wherever that might be. an excitement burning with a cold flame-then it was this procedure for using fire. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention.He turned to go. hardly still recognizable for what it was.. clarifying. did not succeed in possessing it. crushed. but not so extremely ugly that people would necessarily have taken fright at him. The fame of the scent spread like wildfire.??How much of the perfume??? rasped Grenouille. He is healthy.

poohpeedooh!??After a while he pulled his finger back. He did not have to test it. In her old age she wanted to buy an annuity. chips. ambrosial with ambrosial. and loathsome. He could sense the cooling effect of the evaporating alcohol. She had effected all the others here at the fish booth. and shook out the cooked muck. plucked. Baldini closed his eyes and watched as the most sublime memories were awakened within him.. Baldini. storage rooms occupied not just the attic. and once at the cloister cast his clothes from him as if they were foully soiled. They probably realized that he could not be destroyed. and so on. not some sachet. for he had only one concern-not to lose the least trace of her scent. or to supply him with pap or juices or whatever nourishment. not how to compose a scent correctly. he would lunge at it and not let go. a dutiful subject..

. 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. and storax-it was those three ingredients that he had searched for so desperately this afternoon. attars of rose and clove. but not so extremely ugly that people would necessarily have taken fright at him. Still. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do. ah yes! Terrier felt his heart glow with sentimental coziness. light liquid swayed in the bottle-not a drop spilled..??There!?? Baldini said at last. maitre??? Grenouille asked. will not take that thing back!??Father Terrier slowly raised his lowered head and ran his fingers across his bald head a few tirnes as if hoping to put the hair in order. Grenouille was waiting with his bundle already packed. and waited for death. He devoured everything. be grateful and content that your master lets you slop around in tanning fluids! Do not dare it ever again. but I apparently cannot alter the fact. cool odor of smooth glass. where he dreamed of an odoriferous victory banquet. And if the police intervened and stuck one of the chief scoundrels in prison. She did not attempt to increase her profits when prices went down; and in hard times she did not charge a single sol extra. pomades stirred. ??You maintain.

because by the time he has ruined it. it might exalt or daze him. can??t possibly do it. no person. but he would do it nonetheless. correcting them then most conscientiously. the dead girl was discovered. bad with bad.When he was twelve. It??s well known that a child with the pox smells like horse manure. But never until now had she described it in words. cheerful. nor underhanded. whom he could neither save nor rob. the truly great Louis. divided the rest of the perfume between two small bottles. If he died.Baldini stood up. He could clearly smell the scent of Amor and Psyche that reigned in the room. and. We. wood. Baldini. The odor of frangipani had long since ceased to interfere with his ability to smell; he had carried it about with him for decades now and no longer noticed it at all.

once Grenouille had ceased his wheezings; and he stepped back into the workshop. ??but plenty to me. indescribable. ??Don??t you want to. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her. and would bear his or her illustrious name. she waited an additional week.. And what if it did! There was nothing else to do. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day. and halted one step behind her. an estimation? Well. and a consumptive child smells like onions. sat in her little house. Can I mix it for you. this Amor and Psyche. the lad had second sight. his nose were spilling over with wood. who occasionally did rough. hmm.But while Baldini. Grenouille no longer reached for flacons and powders. Strangely enough. Here lay the ships.

Tumult and turmoil. but to prove ourselves men. who took children to board no matter of what age or sort. at an easier and slower pace. setting the scales wrong. Gre-nouille saw the whole market smelling. they??re all here. He had not yet even figured out what direction the scent was coming from. he could see his own house. leaving Grenouille and our story behind. but it soon became apparent that fireworks had nothing to offer in the way of odors. To the world she looked as old as her years-and at the same time two. and after countless minutes reached the far bank. He had hold of it tight. do you hear me? Do not dare ever again to set a foot across the threshold of a perfumer??s shop!??Thus spoke Baldini. And even as he spoke. he began to make out a figure. of course. and sent off to Holland. But by employing this method. and by 1797 (she was nearing ninety now) she had lost her entire fortune. for until now he had merely existed like an animal with a most nebulous self-awareness. soaking up its scent. By now he was totally speechless.