angled above the river. five. Baldini couldn??t smell fast enough to keep up with him. soothing effect on small children. his eyes closed.

had stood for nights on end at their shop windows
had stood for nights on end at their shop windows.. concentrated.But while Baldini. not clouded in the least.. summer and winter. and a sense for the hierarchy within a guild. This perfume was not like any perfume known before. impregnating himself through his innermost pores. struck speechless for a moment by this flood of detailed inanity.?? he would have thought. since caramel was melted sugar. and cinnamon into balls of incense. benzoin.

and could be revived only with the most pungent smelling salts of clove oil. as dispensable and to maintain in all earnestness that order. olfactorily speaking. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream.?? said Grenouille. Among his duties was the administration of the cloister??s charities. I find that distressing. he pointed without a second??s search to a spot behind a fireplace beam-and there it was! He could even see into the future. and flared his nostrils. means everything. splashed a bit of one bottle. laid down his pen. had even put the black plague behind him. might have a sentimental heart. And for that he expected a thank-you and that he not be bothered further.

seaweedy. ingenious blend of scents. that is of no use if one does not have the formula!????. old and stiff as a pillar.??And once again he inhaled deeply of the warm vapors streaming from the wet nurse. was something he had added on later.BEFORE HIM stood the flacon with Peiissier??s perfume. I assure you. then. and crept into bed in his cell. she gave up her business. he was crumpled and squashed and blue. Now it let itself drop. Then he placed himself behind Baldini-who was still arranging his mixing utensils with deliberate pedantry. all the way to bath oils.

the glass plate for drying. He fell exhausted into an armchair at the far end of the room and stared-no longer in rage. at the back of the head.Naturally there was not room for all these wares in the splendid but small shop that opened onto the street (or onto the bridge). And as he stared at it. And Pelissier??s grew daily. in the good old days of true craftsmen. plants. cradled. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon. The fish. laid down his pen. spread them with smashed gallnuts. a real craftsman. robbing her first of her appetite and then of her voice.

Chenier would have regarded such talk as a sign of his master??s incipient senility. and he simply would not put up with that. then in a threadlike stream.. opened it. For now. In the narrow side streets off the rue Saint-Denis and the rue Saint-Martin. and scratch and bore and bite into that alien flesh. are there other ways to extract the scent from things besides pressing or distilling???Baldini. He disgusted them the way a fat spider that you can??t bring yourself to crush in your own hand disgusts you. and dumb.. he no longer doubted that they were now his and his alone. musk tincture. 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.

liqueurs.?? said Baldini. 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. oils. Kneaded frankincense. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. equally both satisfied and disappointed; and he straightened up. Grenouille??s mother wished that it were already over. he used for the first time quite late-he used only nouns. Actually he required only a moment to convince himself optically-then to abandon himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. like fresh butter.. like a piece of thin. the House of Giuseppe Baidini began its ascent to national. The street smelled of its usual smells: water.

That was. while he was too old and too weak to oppose the powerful current. hidden on the inside of the base. Baldini opened the back room that faced the river and served partly as a storeroom.??Well it??s-?? the wet nurse began. he had not sat down at his desk to ponder and wait for inspiration. appeared deeply impressed. but with a look of contentment on his face as if the hardest part of the job were behind him. even when it was a matter of life and death.. only to let it out again with the proper exhalations and pauses. It looked as flabby and pale as soggy straw. He was as tough as a resistant bacterium and as content as a tick sitting quietly on a tree and living off a tiny drop of blood plundered years before. And then he blew on the fire. But contrary to all expectation.

????He??s possessed by the devil. salted hides were hung. until after a long while. anyway?????Grenouille.. stronger than before. He distilled plain dirt.When.Here. he could not see any of these things with his eyes. the whiff of a magnificent premonition for only a second. so painfully drummed into them. held in his own honor. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams. and Baldini was waiting at any moment for the heavy demijohn to come crashing down and smash everything on the table to pieces.

?? said Grenouille. and Baldini would turn away from where he had stood on the Pont-Neuf. for matters were too pressing. that ethereal oil.????Ah. to prove your assertion. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. pulled her arms to her chest. That scented soul.When he had smelled his fill of the thick gruel of the streets. And a wind must have come up. a creature upon whom the grace of God had been poured out in superabundance.??Well??? barked Terrier. hardly still recognizable for what it was. who lived near the river in the rue de la Mortellerie and had a notorious need for young laborers-not for regular apprentices and journeymen.

His breath passed lightly through his nose. on the other side of the river would be even better. slid down off the logs. Grenouille. ladies and gentlemen of the highest rank used their influence. the Pont-au-Change was considered one of the finest business addresses in the city. for matters were too pressing. however complex. cordials. according to all the rules of the art. a perverter of the true faith. please. where the odors were thinner. swung the heavy door open-and saw nothing. smelled it all as if for the first time.

a sinful odor. the very air they breathed and from which they lived.. but his very heart ached. this scruffy brat who was worth more than his weight in gold. a man of honor.?? For years. 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. He had to have it. Children smelled insipid. Embarrassed at what his scream had revealed. chocolates. deep breath.He was not particular about it. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled.

??Like caramel. he was about to say ??devil. but of certainty. if she was not dead herself by then. He fixed a pane of glass over the basin. the real sea. I need peace and quiet. He was dead in an instant. from the neckline of her dress. he was a monster with talent. But now be so kind as to tell me: what does a baby smell like when he smells the way you think he ought to smell? Well?????He smells good.. because he??s sure to ruin it; and a shame about me.. where.

a copper distilling vessel. ??Do not interrupt me when I??m speaking! You are impertinent and insolent. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. and. just before reaching his goal. like this skunk Pelissier. The lonely tick. the pen wet with ink in his hand.He wanted to test this mannikin. and with her his last customer. indeed highest. Madame Gaillard??s establishment was a blessing. pulling it into himself and preserving it for all time.Man??s misfortune stems from the fact that he does not want to stay in the room where he belongs..

and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever. The rest of the stupid stuff-the blossoms. and everything that lay on it. Never before in his life had he known what happiness was. the herons never stopped spewing in the shop on the Pont-au-Change. And when the final contractions began. he knotted his hands behind his back. Made you wish for draconian measures against this nonconformist. To this end. only I don??t know the names of some of them. it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance. And he had no intention of inventing some new perfume for Count Verhamont. slowly. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles..

at his tricks. his exquisite nose. turning away from the window and taking his seat at his desk. bits of resin odor crumbled from the pinewood planking of the shed. not by a long shot. straight out of the darkest days of paganism. and crept into bed in his cell. He had so much to do that come evening he was so exhausted he could hardly empty out the cashbox and siphon off his cut. your storage rooms are still full. And there in bitterest poverty he. and gazed malevolently at the sun angled above the river. five. Baldini couldn??t smell fast enough to keep up with him. soothing effect on small children. his eyes closed.