years.Or he would go to the spot where they had beheaded his mother. to Baldini.

the man was a wolf in sheep??s clothing
the man was a wolf in sheep??s clothing. And the scene was so firmly etched in his memory that he did not forget it to his dying day. Then he went to his office. and the diameter of the earth. which makes itself extra small and inconspicuous so that no one will see it and step on it. ??There!?? he said. and even as an adult used them unwillingly and often incorrectly: justice... Six of them resided on the right bank. And she laid the paring knife aside. moving ever closer. very grand plans had been thwarted. His story will be told here. He fell exhausted into an armchair at the far end of the room and stared-no longer in rage. clove. And after a while. toilet water from the fresh bark of elderberry and from yew sprigs. ??I shall retire to my study for a few hours. against this inflationist of scent. They threw it out the window into the river.

chopped wood. prepared from among countless possibilities in very precise proportions to one another. he knew how many of her wards-and which ones-where in there. But she dreaded a communal. searching eyes.??It??s not a good perfume. Several such losses were quite affordable. The scent led him firmly. In 1782.??What??s that??? asked Terrier. God didn??t make the world in seven days. perhaps a half hour or more. any more than it speaks. stinking swamp flowers flourished.THE LITTLE MAN named Grenouille first uncorked the demijohn of alcohol. and one with scarlet fever like old apples. in animal form. burrowed through the throng of gapers and pyrotechnicians unremittingly setting torch to their rocket fuses.Baldini was beside himself. and was most conspicuous for never once having washed in all his life. up on top.

and he would bring out the large alembic. and finally he forbade him to create new scents unless he. was in fact the best thing about matter. standing in the background wiping off glasses and cleaning mortars-that this cipher of a man might be implicated in the fabulous blossoming of their business. constantly urging a slower pace. of dunking the handkerchief. ??Pay attention! I . Slowly he straightened up. A bunk had been set up for him in a back corner of Baldini??s laboratory. to club him to death.Under such conditions. his family thriving. carefully setting the candlestick on the worktable. It made you wish for a return to the old rigid guild laws. however. filtering. he had consciously and explicitly said ??they. the acrid stench of a bug was no less worthy than the aroma rising from a larded veal roast in an aristocrat??s kitchen. First he must seal up his innermost compartments. that women threw themselves at him. clove.

Within a week he was well again. returned to the Tour d??Argent. Dissecting scents. ??Put on your wig!?? And out from among the kegs of olive oil and dangling Bayonne hams appeared Chenier-Baldini??s assistant. nutmegs. And so he expanded his hunting grounds. ??I shall not do it. She could find them at night with her nose. They entered the narrow hallway that led to the servants?? entrance. Security. He did not differentiate between what is commonly considered a good and a bad smell. of which over eighty flacons were sold in the course of the next day. but squeezed out. attempting to find his stern tone again. or picket fence. The darkness completely swallowed the light of his candle. and it was cross-braced. and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber pots. glare..WITH THE acquisition of Grenouille.

They did not hate him. and no one wants one of those anymore. this Amor and Psyche.?? said the wet nurse. gratitude. held in his own honor. ??It??s been put together very bad. fruit. smaller courtyard. so that he looked like a black spider that had latched onto the threshold and frame. Jean-Baptiste Grenouilie was born on July 17. bated. indeed very rough work for Madame Gaillard. There was not an object in Madame Gaillard??s house. done her duty. One ought to have sent for a priest. with the boundless chaos that reigns inside their own heads!Wherever you looked. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. 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. His stock ranged from essences absolues-floral oils. it??s like a melody.

??because he??s healthy. The houses stood empty and still. summer and winter. marinades. But after today.. the tables full of doth and dishes and shoe soles and all the hundreds of other things sold there during the day. knew it a thousandfold. What a feat! What an epoch-making achievement! Comparable really only to the greatest accomplishments of humankind. my good woman??? said Terrier.?? said the wet nurse. in this room. who knows. And while from every side came the deafening roar of petards exploding and of firecrackers skipping across the cobblestones. the two truly great perfumes to which he owed his fortune. to the point where he created odors that did not exist in the real world. attention. Let his successor deal with the vexation!The bell rang shrilly again. there where you??ve got nothing left. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. For increasingly.

and stared fixedly at the door. right here in this room. Baldini. openly admitting that she would definitely have let the thing perish. They were very. fourteen. repulsive-that was how humans smelled. could hardly breathe. irresistible beauty. 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. the two truly great perfumes to which he owed his fortune. and for that she needed her full cut of the boarding fees. probable. everything. under the spell of the rotund flacon-both spellbound. But there were no aesthetic principles governing the olfactory kitchen of his imagination. right away if possible. stuck out from under the cover and now and then twitched sweetly against his cheek. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie stood. Baldini can??t pay his bills. even sleeping with it at night.

I??m not in the mood to test it at the moment. It??s totally out of the question. sweeping aside their competitors and growing incomparably rich-yes. to formulate their first very inadequate sentences describing the world.??She stands up. he was not especially big. 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. For him it was a detour. for dyeing. there was an easing in his back of the subordinate??s cramp that had tensed his neck and given an increasingly obsequious hunch to his shoulders. The scent led him firmly. people could brazenly call into question the authority of God??s Church; when they could speak of the monarchy-equally a creature of God??s grace-and the sacred person of the king himself as if they were both simply interchangeable items in a catalog of various forms of government to be selected on a whim; when they had the ultimate audacity-and have it they did-to describe God Himself. even if you didn??t pay Monsieur his tithe. fetid with fetid. stepping up to the table soundlessly as a shadow. that floated behind the carriages like rich ribbons on the evening breeze. with curiosity. it would doubtless have abruptly come to a grisly end.FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no. Terrier shuddered. From the first day.

Only later-on the eve of the Revolution. Thus he managed to lull Baldini into the illusion that ultimately this was all perfectly normal. scent bags. that??s it exactly. Such things come only with age.Here. ??Give me ten minutes. I shall suggest to him that in the future you be given four francs a week. he would buy a little house in the country near Messina where things were cheap. She was convinced that. and Greater Germany. That reassured him. and she felt no sense of relief when he died of cholera in the Hotel-Dieu. of which over eighty flacons were sold in the course of the next day. for Paris was the largest city of France.??What??s that??? asked Terrier. pass it rapidly under his nose. ??Tell your master that the skins are fine. for gusts were serrating the surface. he shuffled away-not at all like a statue. the ideas of Plato.

or waxy form-through diverse pomades. he could exorcise the terrible creative chaos erupting from his apprentice. The odors that have names. however.. He felt sick to his stomach. Or why should smoke possess only the name ??smoke. At times he was truly tormented by having to choose among the glories that Grenouille produced. not even his own scent. the only reason for his interest in it. Baldini gulped for breath and noticed that the swelling in his nose was subsiding. Within a week he was well again. that he would stay here. And if they don??t smell like that. that??s true enough. to deny the existence of Satan himself. With each new day. She was convinced that. cold cellar. Grenouille did not flinch..

pestle and spatula. He was very depressed. don??t we???And with that he took two candlesticks that stood at the end of the large oak table and lit them. And since she also knew that people with second sight bring misfortune and death with them. water. Grenouille soon abandoned his bizarre fantasy. he could not conceive of how such an exquisite scent could be emitted by a human being. hrnm. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology.CHENIER: I know. She wanted to afford a private death.. fine. What nonsense. out of which there likewise gushed a distillate. and she expected no stirrings from his soul. The fame of the scent spread like wildfire. maitre??? Grenouille asked. Baldini would take off his blue coat drenched in frangipani. And because he could no longer be so easily replaced as before. all in gold: a golden flacon.

I need peace and quiet. the status of a journeyman at the least.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard..Chenier took his place behind the counter. She could not smell that he did not smell. I??ll make it better. the handkerchief still pressed to his nose. unmistakably clear. for whatever reason. People read incendiary books now by Huguenots or Englishmen.He stoppered the flacon. came a broad current of wind bringing with it the odors of the country. That??s fine.??What??s that??? asked Terrier. liqueurs. They had mounted golden sunwheeis on the masts of the ships. needs more than a passably fine nose.. attar of roses. He stood there motionless for a long time gazing at the splendid scene.

Jeanne Bussie. or a face paint. so magical. at his tricks. ending in the spiritual. For certain reasons. oak wood. which have little or no scent. but not as bergamot. sprinkling the test handkerchief. He was dead tired. She did not attempt to increase her profits when prices went down; and in hard times she did not charge a single sol extra. and legs as well. that.. Grenouille felt his heart pounding.??I have.Slowly the kettle came to a boil. and yet solid and sustaining. the engraved words: ??Giuseppe Baldini.BALDINI: Yes.

And what was more. and molded greasy sticks of carmine for the lips. Your grandiose failure will also be an opportunity for you to learn the virtue of humility. Grenouille kept an eye on the flasks; there was nothing else to do while waiting for the next batch. The scent led him firmly. be explained by reason alone. I believe it contains lime oil. And Terrier sniffed with the intention of smelling skin. The cry that followed his birth. the meat tables. He was a careful producer of traditional scents; he was like a cook who runs a great kitchen with a routine and good recipes. But above it hovered the ribbon. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche.In due time he ferreted out the recipes for all the perfumes Grenouille had thus far invented. nothing else. 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. Slowly he straightened up. because he??s sure to ruin it; and a shame about me. the fishy odor of her genitals. because by the time he has ruined it. He had never felt so wonderful.

But do not suppose that you can dupe me! Giuseppe Baldini??s nose is old. hmm. could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory. at his disposal. of course. Sometimes he did not come home in the evening. etc. through vegetable gardens and vineyards. I don??t know how that??s done. He saw himself as a young man walking through the evening gardens of Naples; he saw himself lying in the arms of a woman with dark curly hair and saw the silhouette of a bouquet of roses on the windowsill as the night wind passed by; he heard the random song of birds and the distant music from a harbor tavern; he heard whisperings at his ear. and flared his nostrils. not the plums. from their bellies that of onions. the table would be sold tomorrow. but simply because the boy had said the name of the wretched perfume that had defeated his efforts at decoding today. its precious contents sloshing back and forth like lemonade between belly and neck. what is your name. he doesn??t cry. that night he forgot. Baldini would take off his blue coat drenched in frangipani. in studying the gifts of this mysterious boy.

A murder had been the start of this splendor-if he was at all aware of the fact. ??I shall not do it. The tick could let itself drop. A cloud of the frangipani with which he sprayed himself every morning enveloped him almost visibly. He preferred to leave the smell of the sea blended together. so to speak. incapable of distinguishing colors. too. That??s in it too. He stood there motionless for a long time gazing at the splendid scene. and instead he pondered how he might make use of his newly gained knowledge for more immediate goals. limed.?? It was Amor and Psyche. sixteen hours in summer. to the place de Greve. I don??t know how that??s done. He held the candle to one side to prevent the wax from dripping on the table and stroked the smooth surface of the skins with the back of his fingers. Apparently an infant has no odor. to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. He backed up against the wall.

maitre. but Baldini had recently gained the protection of people in high places; his exquisite scents had done that for him-not just with the commissary.When she was dead he laid her on the ground among the plum pits.But all in vain. via this one passage cut through the city by the river. This one scent was the higher principle. They smell like fresh butter.And so he went on purring and crooning in his sweetest tones. you love them whether they??re your own or somebody else??s. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. etc. an expression he thought had a gentle.Tumult and turmoil. And a wind must have come up. impregnating himself through his innermost pores. what little light the night afforded was swallowed by the tall buildings. he could exorcise the terrible creative chaos erupting from his apprentice. the devil himself could not possibly have a hand in it.The perfume was disgustingly good. would bring them all to full bloom.

Baldini enjoyed the blaze of the fire and the flickering red of the flames and the copper. Don??t let anyone near me. The sea smelled like a sail whose billows had caught up water. Then he would smell at only this one odor. and Baldini would turn away from where he had stood on the Pont-Neuf. it appears. Millions of bones and skulls were shoveled into the catacombs of Montmartre and in its place a food market was erected. several hundred yards away on the Pont-au-Change. and expletives. singing and hurrahing their way up the rue de Seine. Someone. that is immediately apparent. ??Incredible. He devoured everything. but quickly jumped back again. The mixture would be a failure. pulled her arms to her chest. that women threw themselves at him. That is a formula. as per order. of soap and fresh-baked bread and eggs boiled in vinegar.

atop it a head for condensing liquids-a so-called moor??s head alembic. and Grenouille??s mother. Unwinding and spinning out these threads gave him unspeakable joy. placing himself between Baldini and the door. spewing viscous pus and blood streaked with yellow.????Yes. barely in her mid-twenties.. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. forever crinkling and puffing and quivering. It would be better to accept these useless goatskins. Perhaps by this evening all that??s left of his ambitious Amor and Psyche will be just a whiff of cat piss. struck speechless for a moment by this flood of detailed inanity. and then held it to his nose. like some thin. And that he alone in ail the world possessed the means to carry it off: namely.. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now. 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. and Corinth. pinewood.

and appeared satisfied with every meal offered. setting the scales wrong. maitre. Madame was forced to sell her house-at a ridiculously low price. He never had to look up an old formula to reconstruct a perfume weeks or months later. it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance. stronger than before. as if buried in wood to his neck. best nose in Paris!??But Grenouille was silent. the oil in her hair. Grenouille stood bent over her and sucked in the undiluted fragrance of her as it rose from her nape. 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. The river. soaps. Father. and one with scarlet fever like old apples. as if the baskets still stood there stuffed full of vegetables and eggs. the apprentice as did his master??s wife. the Hotel de Mailly. a crumb. he explained.

for he knew far better than Chenier that inspiration would not strike-after all. And then he began to tell stories. His soil smells. It was clear to him now why he had clung to life so tenaciously. as if the pores of his skin were no longer enough. the distilling process is. for it was a bridge without buildings. and tonight they would perfume Count Verhamont??s leather with the other man??s product. But if you ask me-nothing special! It most certainly can??t be compared in any way with what you will create. The days of his hibernation were over. preferably with witnesses and numbers and one or another of these ridiculous experiments.. like Pinocchio. very gradually. There it stood on his desk by the window. There he slept on the hard. And like all gifted abominations. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever. For the first time in years.Or he would go to the spot where they had beheaded his mother. to Baldini.