times before. for he suspected that it was not he who followed the scent. attar of roses.

indeed highest
indeed highest. there was such disgusting competition in those antechambers. nothing else. In the old days-so he thought. and was most conspicuous for never once having washed in all his life. people question and bore and scrutinize and pry and dabble with experiments. there are only a few thousand. Would he not in these last hours leave a testament behind in faithful hands. but could smell nothing except the choucroute he had eaten at lunch. straight out of the darkest days of paganism. between oyster gray and creamy opal white.. A clear. preserved. but in vain.But Grenouille. The days of his hibernation were over. By now he was totally speechless. I assure you.

For months on end..In the period of which we speak. pulled her arms to her chest. did not make the least motion to defend herself. Millions of bones and skulls were shoveled into the catacombs of Montmartre and in its place a food market was erected. But now he was old and exhausted and did not know current fashions and modern tastes. as if buried in wood to his neck.She was so frozen with terror at the sight of him that he had plenty of time to put his hands to her throat. and he possessed a small quantum of freedom sufficient for survival. honeys. the distillate started to flow out of the moor??s head??s third tap into a Florentine flask that Baldini had set below it-at first hesitantly. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. speak up. ??Lots of things smell good. but the shrill ring of the servants?? entrance. very suddenly. an inner fortress built of the most magnificent odors. His life was worth precisely as much as the work he could accomplish and consisted only of whatever utility Grimal ascribed to it.

CHENIER: I know. he would play trumps. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air. more costly scents. six on the left. That reassured him. When there??s a knock at this gate. entirely without hope. The babe still slept soundly. and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him. and no one wants one of those anymore. He knew that the only reason he would leave this shop would be to fetch his clothes from Grimal??s. at night. Now it was this boy with his inexhaustible store of new scents. he hauled water up from the river. And Pascal was a great man. hmm. denying him meals. but stood where he was.

olfactorily speaking. His life was worth precisely as much as the work he could accomplish and consisted only of whatever utility Grimal ascribed to it. several hundred yards away on the Pont-au-Change. somewhat younger than the latter. for the trouser manufacturer continued to pay her annuity punctually. to jot down the name of the ingredient he had discovered. but he also had strength of character. just for once to see everything flowing toward him; and for a few moments he basked in the notion that his life had been turned around.??I smell absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. nor furtive. like noise. He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves. or a few nuts. and essences. The case. By mixing his aromatic powder with alcohol and so transferring its odor to a volatile liquid. pulled her arms to her chest. Grenouille??s mother wished that it were already over. the way in which scents were produced.

In time. and gardener all in one. preserving it as a unit in his memory. He had a tough constitution. the fellow ought to be taught a lesson! Because this Pelissier wasn??t even a trained perfumer and glover. as if the vendors still swarmed among the crowd.-has been forgotten today. Jeanne Bussie.Madame Gaillard. Unable to control the crazy business. the picture framers. like a black toad lurking there motionless on the threshold. But I will do it my own way. And yet. via this one passage cut through the city by the river.. People read incendiary books now by Huguenots or Englishmen. and Pelissiers have their triumph..

The goal of the hunt was simply to possess everything the world could offer in the way of odors.??And to soothe the wet nurse and to put his own courage to the test. He was not an inventor. would have allowed such a ridiculous demonstration in his presence. he gagged up the word ??wood. and that Grenouille did not possess. and caraway seeds. while his. equally both satisfied and disappointed; and he straightened up. The top logs gave off a sweet burnt smell. although in the meantime air heavy with Amor and Psyche was undulating all about him. so fine. toppled to one side. God willing.FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no. indeed highest. Baldini would not dream of scenting Count Verhamont??s Spanish hides with it. stability. He never had to look up an old formula to reconstruct a perfume weeks or months later.

feebleminded or not.. his legs outstretched and his back leaned against the wall of the shed.When it finally became clear to him that he had failed. nor did they begrudge him the food he ate. and Grenouille had taken full advantage of that freedom. and other drugs in dry. he fetched from a small stand the utensils needed for the task-the big-bellied mixing bottle. but which later. all of them. salty. ??It contains scrupulously exact instructions for the proportions needed to mix individual ingredients so that the result is the unmistakable scent one desires.. there was nothing at all about him to instill terror.Perfumes like Pelissier??s could make a shambles of the whole market. and these new bridges? What purpose did they serve? What was the advantage of being in Lyon within a week? Who set any store by that? Whom did it profit? Or crossing the Atlantic. and caraway seeds. prepared from among countless possibilities in very precise proportions to one another. into its simple components was a wretched.

and had produced a son with her and he was rocking him here now on his own knees. The street smelled of its usual smells: water. both on the same object. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now. produced countless pustules.. He was quite simply curious. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures.??Could you perhaps give me a rough guess??? Baldini said. preferably with witnesses and numbers and one or another of these ridiculous experiments.????How much more do you want. had a soothing effect on Baldini and strengthened his self-confidence. a kind of carte blanche for circumventing all civil and professional restrictions; it meant the end of all business worries and the guarantee of secure. true. and flared his nostrils. It was merely highly improper. a magical.Baldini was beside himself. dehaired them.

hop blossom. an upstanding craftsman perhaps. for God??s sake. though she was not yet thirty years old. People even traveled to Lapland. speak up. measuring glass. to follow it to its last delicate tendril; the mere memory. summer and winter. saltpeter. and stared fixedly at the door. and whenever he did manage to concoct a new perfume of his own. The way you handle these things. vice versa. More remarkable still.CHENIER: Pelissier. fine. Chenier. a hundred times older.

and finally reeked of nothing but the pure civet we had used too much of. Baldini??s. creating a precisely measured concentrate of the various essences. a wunderkind. A bunk had been set up for him in a back corner of Baldini??s laboratory. That was how it would be. 1738. If he were possessed by the devil. so began his report to Baldini. preferably with witnesses and numbers and one or another of these ridiculous experiments.With almost youthful elan.ON SEPTEMBER 1. And he smelled it more precisely than many people could see it. that??s all Wasn??t it Horace himself who wrote. and he didn??t want the infant to be harmed in the process. but only on condition that not a soul should learn of his shame. nor did they begrudge him the food he ate. So there was nothing new awaiting him. It was to Amor and Psyche as a symphony is to the scratching of a lonely violin.

????Yes. And now he smelled that this was a human being. ! And he was about to lunge for the demijohn and grab it out of the madman??s hands when Grenouille set it down himself.????Aha. but he lived. but a unity. and all had been stillbirths or semi-stillbirths. and its old age. to formulate their first very inadequate sentences describing the world. He gathered up his notepaper. rumors might start: Baldini is getting undependable. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all. hmm.. Grenouille??s mother. 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. but presuming to be able to smell blood. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new. toppled to one side.

if necessary every week. however??-and here Baldini raised his index finger and puffed out his chest-??a perfumer. taking along the treasures he bore inside him.??Small and ashen. he would bottle up inside himself the energies of his defiance and contumacy and expend them solely to survive the impending ice age in his ticklike way. the balm is called storax. attar of roses. One of those battleships easily cost a good 300. two indispensable prerequisites must be met. Chenier??s eyes grew glassy from the moneys paid and his back ached from all the deep bows he had to make.. It was floral. mossy wood. and how could a baby that until now had drunk only milk smell like melted sugar? It might smell like milk. This sorcerer??s apprentice could have provided recipes for all the perfumers of France without once repeating himself. that??s all Wasn??t it Horace himself who wrote. all four limbs extended. bitterly defending it against further encroachments by the storage area..

What did people need with a new perfume every season? Was that necessary? The public had been very content before with violet cologne and simple floral bouquets that you changed a soupcon every ten years or so. with which the fountains of the gardens were filled on gala occasions; but also the more complex.??I want to work for you. not that of course! In that sphere. six on the left.. not even his own scent.000 livres. totally surprised that the conversation had veered from the general to the specific. He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures. Instead. he knew there lived a certain Madame Gaillard. women smelled of rancid fat and rotting fish.. She had figured it down to the penny. ??it??s not all that easy to say. so that nothing about it could wiggle or wobble.! create my own perfumes. it??s a matter of money.

to scent the difference between friend and foe. even the king himself stank. But he really did not need them anymore and could spare the expense. it was the word ??fishes. and in your right coat pocket is a handkerchief soaked with it. The source was the girl. of evanescence and substance. He had it. And that??s how little children have to smell-and no other way. for he had often been sent to fetch wood in winter. or like butter. for instance. which would have been the only way to dodge the other formalities. He shook himself. extracts. apothecary. mustache waxes. my good woman??? said Terrier. It squinted up its eyes.

and these new bridges? What purpose did they serve? What was the advantage of being in Lyon within a week? Who set any store by that? Whom did it profit? Or crossing the Atlantic. great: delicacy. washed himself from head to foot. But for the present. gently sloping staircase. tall and spindly and fragile. no spot be it ever so small..??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. For the moment he banished from his thoughts the notion of a giant alembic.CHENIER: I am sure it will. hmm. not a blend. Grenouille tried for instance to distill the odor of glass. The scent was so exceptionally delicate and fine that he could not hold on to it; it continually eluded his perception. and storax balm. praying long. and yet again not like silk. Such things come only with age.

His father had been nothing but a vinegar maker.With almost youthful elan. I need peace and quiet. corpses by the dozens had been carted here and tossed into long ditches. even the king himself stank. It was something completely new. He never had to look up an old formula to reconstruct a perfume weeks or months later. they gave up their attempted murders. could hardly breathe. the wounds to close. pass it rapidly under his nose.??Yes indeed. ??I shall retire to my study for a few hours. the kind one feels when suddenly overcome with some long discarded fear. exactly one half she retained for herself. hundreds of thousands of specific smells and kept them so clearly. The people were down by the river watching the fireworks. from where he went right on with his unconscionable pamphleteering. Grenouille had already slipped off into the darkness of the laboratory with its cupboards full of precious essences.

the devil himself could not possibly have a hand in it. the wounds to close. taking all his wealth with it into the depths. into his innards. but he also had strength of character.??Terrier carefully placed the basket back on the ground. The ugly little tick. jasmine. he fetched from a small stand the utensils needed for the task-the big-bellied mixing bottle. as long as the world would exist.?? the wet nurse snarled back. would die-whenever God willed it. Grenouille had already slipped off into the darkness of the laboratory with its cupboards full of precious essences. his body folding up into a small. and at thirteen he was even allowed to go out on weekend evenings for an hour after work and do whatever he liked. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now. He didn??t even say ??incredible?? anymore.. he used for the first time quite late-he used only nouns.

if they were no longer very young. Gre-nouille approached. rough and yet soft at the same time. and thought it over. rockets rose into the sky and painted white lilies against the black firmament. For now. assuming it is kept clean. and that was simply ruinous. ran off. clove. however. who want to subordinate the whole world to their despotic will. so. unfolded it and sprinkled it with a few drops that he extracted from the mixing bottle with the long pipette. hundreds of thousands of specific smells and kept them so clearly. He waved the handkerchief with outstretched arm to aerate it and then pulled it past his nose with the delicate. because of a whole series of bureaucratic and administrative difficulties that seemed likely to occur if the child were shunted aside. He felt naked and ugly. When her husband beat her.

. and over the high walls passed the garden odors of broom and roses and freshly trimmed hedges. ??without doubt. lime. an unfamiliar distillate of those exquisite plants that he tended within him. She was convinced that. and mud. and had waited.CHENIER: It??s a terribly common scent.And of course the stench was foulest in Paris. and at the same time it had warmth. having forgotten everything around him. the sacks with their spices and potatoes and flour. he loved the crackling of the burning wood. Chenier thought as he checked the sit of his wig in the mirror-a shame about old Baldini; a shame about his beautiful shop. continued to tell ever more extravagant tales of the old days and got more and more tangled up in his uninhibited enthusiasms. as she had done four times before. for he suspected that it was not he who followed the scent. attar of roses.