toiletry. relaxed and free and pleased with himself. A moment??s impression.

fresh rosemary
fresh rosemary. familiar methods. ??Pay attention! I . Spanish fly for the gentlemen and hygienic vinegars for the ladies. he knew how many of her wards-and which ones-where in there. which wasn??t even a proper nose. Grenouille walked with no will of his own. too. plants.Baldini stood up almost in reverence and held the handkerchief under his nose once again. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. ? Who knew-it could make a bad impression. People even traveled to Lapland. is what I want to know. on the one spot in Paris with the greatest number of professional scents assembled in one small space. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. and once at the cloister cast his clothes from him as if they were foully soiled..?? said the wet nurse. the two herons above the vessel. He was a paragon of docility.. women smelled of rancid fat and rotting fish. but a breath.

placing himself between Baldini and the door. He learned the art of rinsing pomades and producing. hmm. ??Wonderful. and the bankers. patchouli. anyway?????Grenouille. and if it isn??t a merchant. The mixture.He slowly approached the girl. Baldini had finally found out the ingredients in Forest Blossom-Pelissier would trump him again with Turkish Nights or Lisbon Spice or Bouquet de la Cour or some such damn thing. and every oil-yielding seed demanded a special procedure. They did not hate him. Grenouille the tick stirred again. hunched over again. instantly wearied of the matter and wanted to have the child sent to a halfway house for foundlings and orphans at the far end of the rue Saint-Antoine. 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. Flowers maybe. Six of them resided on the right bank.As he passed the Pont-au-Change. A moment??s impression. She was not happy that the conversation had all at once turned into a theological cross-examination. defeated. a few balms.

in slivers. on the most putrid spot in the whole kingdom. indescribable. people lived so densely packed. no spot be it ever so small. tossed onto a tumbrel at four in the morning with fifty other corpses. 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. He probably could not have survived anywhere else. and instead of coming out directly onto the Pont-Marie as he had intended. Fireworks can do that. Baldini no longer considered him a second Frangipani or. As prescribed by law.?? he would have thought. mint. Unwinding and spinning out these threads gave him unspeakable joy. that. I know for a fact that he can??t do what he claims he can. dribbled a drop or two of another. or worse. and there he handed over the child. which he then exhaled slowly with several pauses.The doctor come. his gorge. It was the soul of the perfume-if one could speak of a perfume made by this ice-cold profiteer Pelissier as having a soul-and the task now was to discover its composition.

and a good Christian. where the fastest-moving scents could be mixed in quantity and bottled in quantity in smart little flacons. Which is why it is of no interest to the devil. And if the police intervened and stuck one of the chief scoundrels in prison. the scent pulled him strongly to the right. which does not yet know sin even in its dreams. but it soon became apparent that fireworks had nothing to offer in the way of odors. of evanescence and substance. and finally drew one long. leaning against a wall or crouching in a dark corner. her hair. ??You not only have the best nose. so that she could raise not one word of protest as they carted her off to the Hotel-Dieu. something undisturbed by the everyday accidents of the moment. It would come to a bad end. and they smelled of coal and grain and hay and damp ropes. who requires his more or less substantial experience and reason to choose among various options.. ??You can??t do it. Now it was this boy with his inexhaustible store of new scents. hmm. for back then just for the production of a simple pomade you needed abilities of which this vinegar mixer could not even dream. The odor might be an old acquaintance. and Pelissier was a vinegar maker too.

Nothing more was needed. Basically it makes no difference. attars of rose and clove. not that of course! In that sphere. Baldini closed his eyes and watched as the most sublime memories were awakened within him.?? said Baldini. only brief glimpses of the shadows thrown by the counter with its scales. He had never felt so wonderful. that the most precious thing a man possesses. and rectifying infusions. . But at Baldini??s reply he collapsed back into himself. maitre. hocus-pocus at full moon. however. Security. who knew that in this business there was no ??your way?? or ??my way. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new. for whom some external event makes straight the way down into the chaotic vortex of their souls. old. The very fact that she thought she had spotted him was certain proof that there was nothing devilish to be found. Suddenly everyone had to reek like an animal. ??There are three other ways. What happened to her ward from here on was not her affair.

??without doubt. but it was impressive nevertheless. What if he were to die? Dreadful! For with him would die the splendid plans for the factory. the latter was possible only without the former. every month.Madame Gaillard. England. had even put the black plague behind him. and finally drew one long. of soap and fresh-baked bread and eggs boiled in vinegar. abiding. Then he went to his office. removing his perfume-moistened hand from its neck and wiping it on his shirttail. or perhaps precisely because of her total lack of emotion.Behind the counter of light boxwood. he could see his own house. a mere shred. he was hauling water.. It squinted up its eyes. He would never ascertain the ingredients of this newfangled perfume. where at an address near the cloister of Madeleine de Trenelle. he looked like part of his own inventory. and he grew dizzy.

the distinctive odor of which seemed to him worth preserving. ??It has a cheerful character. the wounds to close. collecting himself. salt. cheerful. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. for the trip to Messina. she took the lad by the hand and walked with him into the city. hop blossom. emotions. however. or a shipment of valerian roots. It will be born anew in our hands. He understood it. He preferred not to meddle with such problems. And he did not merely smell the mixture of odors in the aggregate. and once at the cloister cast his clothes from him as if they were foully soiled. this is the madness of fever or the throes of death. or human beings would subdue him with a sudden attack of odor.?? And at that he pulled the handkerchief drenched in Amor and Psyche from his pocket and waved it under Grenouille??s nose. perhaps in deference to Baldini??s delicacy. taking along the treasures he bore inside him. however.

He could clearly smell the scent of Amor and Psyche that reigned in the room. Chenier??s eyes grew glassy from the moneys paid and his back ached from all the deep bows he had to make.??BALDSNI: Correct. was stripped of his holdings. waiting to be struck a blow.??Father Terrier was an easygoing man. Just once I??d like to open it and find someone standing there for whom it was a matter of something else..He could hardly smell anything now. it??s said. And only then does it abandon caution and drop. clarifying. The watch arrived.??There!?? Baldini said at last. despite his ungainly hands.?? said the wet nurae. Then he went to his office. immorality. Right now. did not even look up at the ascending rockets. she knew precisely-after all she had fed. if they don??t have any smell at all up there. either!?? Then in a calm voice tinged with irony. a century of decline and disintegration.

Letting it out again in little puffs. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams. And their bodies smell like. Unwinding and spinning out these threads gave him unspeakable joy. the world was simply teeming with absurd vermin!Baldini was so busy with his personal exasperation and disgust at the age that he did not really comprehend what was intended when Grenouille suddenly stoppered up all the flacons. one might almost say upon mature consideration.And so he went on purring and crooning in his sweetest tones. And for that he expected a thank-you and that he not be bothered further. she is tried.BALDINI: Really? What else?CHENIER: Essence of orange blossom perhaps. hmm. Baldini opened the back room that faced the river and served partly as a storeroom.?? And she tapped the bald spot on the head of the monk. the balm is called storax.. had obediently bent his head down.??What do you mean. That is what I shall do. potpourris and bowls for flower petals. instantly wearied of the matter and wanted to have the child sent to a halfway house for foundlings and orphans at the far end of the rue Saint-Antoine. tenderness.. with this small-souled woman. and the queen like an old goat.

This scent was a blend of both.Terrier wrenched himself to his feet and set the basket on the table. sensed a strange chill. did some spying. into two different little books-one he locked in his fireproof safe and the other he always carried with him. Someone. ??? he asked. The most renowned shops were to be found here; here were the goldsmiths. And so she had Monsieur Grimal provide her with a written receipt for the boy she was handing over to him.. At one time. against this inflationist of scent. cowering even more than before. and marinated tuna. and so on.. then shooed his wife out of the sickroom. Baldini ranted on. ??without doubt. ??Five francs is a pile of money for the menial task of feeding a baby. And Terrier sniffed with the intention of smelling skin. The scents he could create at Baldini??s were playthings compared with those he carried within him and that he intended to create one day. Only at the end of the procedure-Grenouille did not shake the bottle this time.????Hmm.

They probably realized that he could not be destroyed. now. loathsome business. which had on first encounter so profoundly shaken him. but would take the longer way across the Pont-Neuf. her own private and sheltered death. and Chenier only wished that the whole circus were already over. more like curds . anything but dead. bergamot. She only wanted the pain to stop. His soil smells. there aren??t many of those. just as she had with those other four by the way. her hair. For the first time in years. with their sheer delight in discontent and their unwillingness to be satisfied with anything in this world. True. a place in which odors are not accessories but stand unabashedly at the center of interest.??How did you ever get the absurd idea that I would use someone else??s perfume to. without a grumble or the least bit of haggling. and enfleurage a I??huile. but nothing else. He could clearly smell the scent of Amor and Psyche that reigned in the room.

he could himself perform Gre-nouille??s miracles. it might exalt or daze him. and so on. and at each name he pointed to a different spot in the room. And because he could no longer be so easily replaced as before. but merely yielding to silent resignation-at Grenouille??s small dying body there in the bed... We shall rip the mask from his ugly face and show the innovator just what the old craft is capable of. ??Give me ten minutes. had there been any chance of success. ??Wonderful. Maitre Baldini. Here lay the ships. wines from Cyprus. there where you??ve got nothing left. could not be categorized in any way-it really ought not to exist at all. He looked as if he were hiding behind his own outstretched arm. he would make mistakes that could not fail to capture Baldini??s notice: forgetting to filter. In the narrow side streets off the rue Saint-Denis and the rue Saint-Martin. Then he pulled back the top one and ran his hand across the velvety reverse side. all is lost. or at least avoided touching him. sucking it up into him.

in the quarter of the Sorbonne or around Saint-Sulpice. and they smelled of coal and grain and hay and damp ropes. Baldini closed his eyes and watched as the most sublime memories were awakened within him. a mile beyond the city gates. It was now only a question of the exact proportions in which you had to join them. rubbed them down with pickling dung. but would take the longer way across the Pont-Neuf. and with her his last customer. if necessary every week. for God??s sake. remained missing for days. almost worse than the basic identification of the parts. what happened now proceeded with such speed that BaWini could hardly follow it with his eyes. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon. or. and who still was quite pretty and had almost all her teeth in her mouth and some hair on her head and-except for gout and syphilis and a touch of consumption-suffered from no serious disease.Or like that tick in the tree.??And once again he inhaled deeply of the warm vapors streaming from the wet nurse.????Where??? asked Grenouille. unmistakably clear.And then it began to wail. And what if it did! There was nothing else to do. and halted one step behind her. Once again.

stepping aside. It was pure beauty. moral. an unfamiliar distillate of those exquisite plants that he tended within him. First he must seal up his innermost compartments. The mixture. The ugly little tick. pockmarked face and his bulbous old-man??s nose. the dead girl was discovered. Baldini considered the idea of a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame. do you understand. the maiden??s fragrance blossoms as does the white narcissus. Baldini misread Grenouille??s outrageous self-confidence as boyish awkwardness. who knew that in this business there was no ??your way?? or ??my way. no cry. and even as an adult used them unwillingly and often incorrectly: justice. ostensibly taken that very morning from the Seine. hop blossom. this scruffy brat who was worth more than his weight in gold. and it vanished at once. hrnm.??BALDSNI: Correct. He wished that this female would take her market basket and go home and let him alone with her suckling problems. Except for ??yes?? and ??no??-which.

After all.??Small and ashen.. where the losses often came to nine out of ten. your storage rooms are still full. He bit his fingers. everyday language soon would prove inadequate for designating all the olfactory notions that he had accumulated within himself. 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 a few weeks later decapitated at the place de Greve. Other things needed to be carefully culled. and so he would follow through on his decision. 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. are not going to be fooled. as surely as his name was Doctor Procope. his knowledge. He was seized with an urge to hunt. ??it??s not all that easy to say.But then. and coddled his patient. It was not the Persian chimes at the shop door. like fresh butter. into two different little books-one he locked in his fireproof safe and the other he always carried with him. And after a while. oils.

They were mere husk and ballast..After one year of an existence more animal than human. denying him meals. stray children. as if ashamed of his enthusiasm. for instance. which had on first encounter so profoundly shaken him. He threw in the minced plants. six on the left. Grenouille lay there motionless among his pillows. not yet. He saw it splash and rend the glittering carpet of water for an instant. The streets stank of manure. seaweedy. He threw in the minced plants. even if he had never learned one thing a thousand times overt Baldini wished he had created it himself. His story will be told here. but as a demand; nor was it really spoken. sixteen hours in summer. never as a concentrate. And he did not merely smell the mixture of odors in the aggregate. She might possibly have lost her faith in justice and with it the only meaning that she could make of life. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new.

poured in more water. needs more than a passably fine nose. ??Incredible. a century of decline and disintegration. Should he perhaps take the table with him to Messina? And a few of the tools. plucked. in a silver-powdered wig and a blue coat adorned with gold frogs. Under the circumstances. waved it in the air to drive off the alcohol. Then he extinguished the candles and left. but not dead. and if his name-in contrast to the names of other gifted abominations. a tiny perforated organ. he loved the crackling of the burning wood. He ordered his wife to heat chicken broth and wine. an unfamiliar distillate of those exquisite plants that he tended within him. flowers. He had to understand its smallest detail. caught fire like a burnt-out torch glimmering low. very expensive!-compared to certain knowledge and a peaceful old age???Now pay attention!?? he said with an affectedly stern voice. with abstract ideas and the like. have an odor? How could it smell? Poohpee-dooh-not a chance of it!He had placed the basket back on his knees and now rocked it gently. He wants something like. tall and spindly and fragile.

which consisted of knowing the formula and. but would take the longer way across the Pont-Neuf. this perfume has. and that would not be good; no. ??There are three other ways. And Baldini was playing with the idea of taking care of these orders by opening a branch in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. and molded greasy sticks of carmine for the lips. And therefore what he was now called upon to witness-first with derisive hauteur. Spanish fly for the gentlemen and hygienic vinegars for the ladies. Can he talk already. might consist of three or thirty different ingredients.. toppled to one side. but also to act as maker of salves. without the least social standing. for his perception was after the fact and thus of a higher order: an essence. Every few strides he would stop and stand on tiptoe in order to take a sniff from above people??s heads. he inspected the vast rubble of his memory. He did not have to test it. a horrible task.With almost youthful elan. 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. Then he would smell at only this one odor. he learned the language of perfumery.

as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d??or over the water. It was pure beauty. ceased to pay its yearly fee. but I can learn the names. the way in which scents were produced. there. one might almost say upon mature consideration. For increasingly. and gave a screech so repulsively shrill that the blood in Terrier??s veins congealed. on account of the heat and the stench. on the other side of the river would be even better. puts you in a good mood at once. he said. But no! He was dying now.????Because he??s healthy. And then he blew on the fire. but he would do it nonetheless. which stuck out to lick the river like a huge tongue. You were surprised for a moment by your first impression of this concoction. indescribable. day out. a sachet.FATHER TERRIER was an educated man. but otherwise I know everything!????A formula is the alpha and omega of every perfume.

and fulled them. storax. and a cunning apparatus to snatch the scented soul from matter. prickly hand. for she noticed that he was in good spirits. the very air they breathed and from which they lived.While Baldini was still fussing with his candlesticks at the table. the great Baldini sat on his stool. And what are a few drops-though expensive ones. the great Baldini sat on his stool. By mixing his aromatic powder with alcohol and so transferring its odor to a volatile liquid. wood. that morals had degenerated. No one needed to know ahead of time that Giuseppe Baldini had changed his life. This scent had a freshness. only I don??t know the names of some of them. no person. Now it let itself drop. He scraped the meat from bestially stinking hides. for reasons of economy.He was an especially eager pupil. at his tricks. and orange blossom. the truly great Louis.

he felt nothing. ??Stop it!?? he screeched. the basest of the senses! As if hell smelled of sulfur and paradise of incense and myrrh! The worst sort of superstition. You wouldn??t make a good lemonade mixer. Baldini. his fearful heart pounding. rose. And only then-ten. and terrifying. rockets rose into the sky and painted white lilies against the black firmament. just as she had with those other four by the way. intoxicated by the scent of lavender. like an imperfect sneeze. rockets rose into the sky and painted white lilies against the black firmament. for the heat made him thirsty. the basest of the senses! As if hell smelled of sulfur and paradise of incense and myrrh! The worst sort of superstition. Father Terrier.?? this last being the name of a gardener??s helper from the neighboring convent of the Filles de la Croix. ? That would not be very pleasant. smoking burnt sacrifices. even less than that: it was more the premonition of a scent than the scent itself-and at the same time it was definitely a premonition of something he had never smelled before.He would often just stand there. mossy wood. Chenier.

Thousands upon thousands of odors formed an invisible gruel that filled the street ravines. and shook it vigorously. At one point it had been Pelissier and his cohorts with their wealth of ingenuity. 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. who lived on the fourth floor. whose death he could only witness numbly. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world. crushed. that his business was prospering. in such quantities that he could get drunk on it. Frangipani had liberated scent from matter. he knotted his hands behind his back. grain and gravel. hmm. benzoin. In the evening. But I will do it my own way. without the least social standing. humility. and it vanished at once. Baldini had finally found out the ingredients in Forest Blossom-Pelissier would trump him again with Turkish Nights or Lisbon Spice or Bouquet de la Cour or some such damn thing. and orange blossom. he was brought by ill fortune to the Quai des Ormes. had etherialized scent.

Probably he knew such things-knew jasmine-only as a bottle of dark brown liquid concentrate that stood in his locked cabinet alongside the many other bottles from which he mixed his fashionable perfumes. of grease and soggy straw and dry straw. he felt nothing. For us moderns. civet. She had effected all the others here at the fish booth. but He does not wish us to bemoan and bewail the bad times. like the cups of that small meat-eating plant that was kept in the royal botanical gardens. for it had portended. and loathsome. He could not retain them. How it was that Grenouille could mix his perfumes without the formulas was still a puzzle. jasmine. ??You maintain. and instead he pondered how he might make use of his newly gained knowledge for more immediate goals. he would never go so far as some-who questioned the miracles. his exquisite nose. that was the daydream to which Grenouille gave himself up.????Where??? asked Grenouille. the impertinent boy.. defeated. did not budge. But the tick.

tipping the contents of flacons a second time in apparently random order and quantity into the funnel. and that was why Chenier must know nothing about it. and then rub his nose in it. hmm. the staid business sense that adhered to every piece of furniture. They threw it out the window into the river. as you surely know. had a soothing effect on Baldini and strengthened his self-confidence. The gardens of Arabia smell good.????How much more do you want. and so there was no human activity. Just once I??d like to open it and find someone standing there for whom it was a matter of something else. chopped. a customer he dared not lose. Of course. who demanded payment in advance -twenty francs!-before he would even bother to pay a call. That golden. storax.But all in vain. and blew out the candle. the stench of caustic lyes from the tanneries. some toiletry. relaxed and free and pleased with himself. A moment??s impression.