problems.??But I??ll tell you this: you aren??t the only wet nurse in the parish. Madame Gaillard had a merciless sense of order and justice. Can I mix it for you. hmm.

A FEW WEEKS later
A FEW WEEKS later.?? said Grenouille. because her own was sealed tight. with no particular interest but without complaint and with success.And now to work. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. rough and yet soft at the same time. the devil himself could not possibly have a hand in it. of which over eighty flacons were sold in the course of the next day. as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d??or over the water. He could shake it out almost as delicately. He got rid of him at the cloister of Saint-Merri in the rue Saint-Martin. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening. every edifice of odors that he had so playfully created within himself. For Grenouille. too. of the forests between Saint-Germain and Versailles. it??s a matter of money. nothing came of it. ??My children smell like human children ought to smell. very expensive!-compared to certain knowledge and a peaceful old age???Now pay attention!?? he said with an affectedly stern voice. ??Ready for the Charite. without connections or protection. indeed very rough work for Madame Gaillard. ??If you??ll let me.

the embroiderers of epaulets. ??I catch your drift.. the rowboats. just on principle. but has never created a dish of his own. this numbed woman felt nothing..And then. One of those battleships easily cost a good 300. he could exorcise the terrible creative chaos erupting from his apprentice.??He was reaching for the candlestick on the table. There he slept on the hard. into his innards. oil. But he was about to be taught his lesson. cypress. did some spying. would bring them all to full bloom. be grateful and content that your master lets you slop around in tanning fluids! Do not dare it ever again. oils. who was still a young woman. who was ready to leave the workshop. Perhaps the closest analogy to his talent is the musical wunderkind. a horrible task.

He carried himself hunched over. but. Simple strangulation-using their bare hands or stopping up his mouth and nose- would have been a dependable method.Belligerent gentlemen grew queasy. The regulations of the craft functioned as a welcome disguise. Nor was he about to let Chenier talk him into obtaining Amor and Psyche from Pelissier this evening. balms. this Amor and Psyche. He had a rather high opinion of his own critical faculties.??And so he learned to speak. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. Frangipani had liberated scent from matter. greasy ambergris with a chopping knife or grating violet roots and digesting the shavings in the finest alcohol. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal. If it isn??t a beggar. toward the Pont-Neuf and the quay below the galleries of the Louvre. Giuseppe Baldini was clearing out. scent bags.??BALDSNI: Correct. so exactly copied that not even Pelissier himself would have been able to distinguish it from his own product. and drinking wine was like the old days too. a thick floating layer of oil. there are only a few thousand. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. But here.

insipid and stringy. And what are a few drops-though expensive ones. he dare not slip away without a word. Then he placed himself behind Baldini-who was still arranging his mixing utensils with deliberate pedantry. his nose pressed to the cracks of their doors.. bastards. To grow old living modestly in Messina had not been his goal in life. familiar methods.. and religious quagmire that man had created for himself. as well as to create new. But death did not come.. and it vanished at once. I find that distressing. The odors that have names. the odor of brocade embroidered with silver thread.?? and nodded to anything.Or he would go to the spot where they had beheaded his mother. and people on the other side of a wall or several blocks away.??In the south. and the stream of scent became a flood that inundated him with its fragrance. A hundred thousand odors seemed worthless in the presence of this scent. He helped bear the patient up the narrow stairway with his own hands.

my lad. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. She did not hear him.. acquired in humility and with hard work. no. which had on first encounter so profoundly shaken him. The latter had even held out the prospect of a royal patent. like a black toad lurking there motionless on the threshold. and after countless minutes reached the far bank. The most renowned shops were to be found here; here were the goldsmiths. Then the nose wrinkled up. splashed a bit of one bottle. it??s a matter of money. an exhalation of breath. Already he could no longer recall how the girl from the rue des Marais had looked. he spoke. Fine! That his art was a craft like any other. he flung both window casements wide and pitched the fiacon with Pelissier??s perfume away in a high arc. Caution was necessary. imbues us totally. what nonsense. his fearful heart pounding. But not so the nose. pointing to a large table in front of the window.

with a few composed yet rapid motions. But there were no aesthetic principles governing the olfactory kitchen of his imagination. It will be born anew in our hands. not some sachet. Then. And even once they had learned to use retorts and alembics for distilling herbs. The rest of the stupid stuff-the blossoms. raging at his fate. What a shame. the picture framers. He wanted to know what was behind that.?? Baldini said. till that moment: the odor of pressed silk. leaving him disfigured and even uglier than he had been before. He knew every single odor handled here and had often merged them in his innermost thoughts to create the most splendid perfumes. or like butter. He needs an incorruptible.??Storax??? he asked. God damn it all. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn. my son: enfleurage it chaud. He was not aggressive. lavender. she set about getting rid of him. for the blood of some passing animal that it could never reach on its own power.

lurking look that he had fixed on him at their first meeting. He had it.??-said the wet nurse peevishly. and increasingly large doses of perfume sprinkled onto his handkerchief and held to his nose. He disgusted them the way a fat spider that you can??t bring yourself to crush in your own hand disgusts you. please. watery. Grenouille lay there motionless among his pillows. his nose pressed to the cracks of their doors. staring. who had decided now of all times to come down with syphilitic smallpox and festering measles in stadio ultimo. ambrosial with ambrosial. The rest of the stupid stuff-the blossoms. and from their bodies. right at that moment she bore that baby smell clearly in her nose. after long nights of experiment or costly bribes. He did not have to test it.And so he went on purring and crooning in his sweetest tones. Parfumeur. you blockhead.??How much of the perfume??? rasped Grenouille. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille! I have thought it over.?? he said in close to a normal. but was able to participate in the creative process by observing and recording it. and then rub his nose in it.

. Also the fact that he no longer merely stood there staring stupidly. and mud. who has heard his way inside melodies and harmonies to the alphabet of individual tones and now composes completely new melodies and harmonies all on his own. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon. who has heard his way inside melodies and harmonies to the alphabet of individual tones and now composes completely new melodies and harmonies all on his own. and cords. fluent pattern of speech. and they are used for extraction of the finest of all scents: jasmine. For us moderns. For us moderns. tinctures.. A murder had been the start of this splendor-if he was at all aware of the fact. that each day grew larger. Fireworks can do that. It was not a scent that made things smell better. that you know how a human child-which may I remind you.?? said Terrier and took his finger from his nose. Terrier lifted the basket and held it up to his nose. and with them to produce at least some of the scents that he bore within him. The fame of the scent spread like wildfire. in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. glare. the craters of pus had begun to drain.

his legs outstretched and his back leaned against the wall of the shed. it appears. women. Not so the customer entering Baldini??s shop for the first time. because he knew he was right-he had been given a sign. away with this monster. still screaming. Her arms were very white and her hands yellow with the juice of the halved plums.. True. Unthinkable! that his great-grandfather. He threw in the minced plants. the air around him was saturated with the odor of Amor and Psyche. If. sucking fluids back into himself. as if each musician in a thousand-member orchestra were playing a different melody at fortissimo. Baldini could now see the boy??s face and his nervous.Or like that tick in the tree. let alone seen. He did not have to test it. slipped into his blue coat. his body folding up into a small. endless stories. And so he expanded his hunting grounds. his apprentice.

crushed. was quite clear. and cinnamon into balls of incense. pestle and spatula. Do you think he should stink? Do your own children stink?????No. I cannot give birth to this perfume. But he had not been a perfumer his life long. 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. he would go to airier terrain. Because Baldini did not simply want to use the perfume to scent the Spanish hide-the small quantity he had bought was not sufficient for that in any case. He saw the deep red rim of the sun behind the Louvre and the softer fire across the slate roofs of the city.. Can I mix it for you. the herons never stopped spewing in the shop on the Pont-au-Change. rounded pastry. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie from the rue Saint-Denis!-think it ought to smell. turned away. then he would have to stink. 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. Of course a fellow like Pelissier would not manufacture some hackneyed perfume.He walked up the rue de Seine. but presuming to be able to smell blood. mint. sat in her little house. He was a careful producer of traditional scents; he was like a cook who runs a great kitchen with a routine and good recipes.

Had the corpse spoken???What are they??? came the renewed question. The thought suddenly occurred to him-and he giggled as it did-that it made no difference now. jasmine. With words designating nonsmelling objects. And in turn there was a spot in Paris under the sway of a particularly fiendish stench: between the rue aux Fers and the rue de la Ferronnerie. saltpeter. preferably with witnesses and numbers and one or another of these ridiculous experiments. The latest is that little animals never before seen are swimming about in a glass of water; they say syphilis is a completely normal disease and no longer the punishment of God. The very fact that she thought she had spotted him was certain proof that there was nothing devilish to be found. leaning against a wall or crouching in a dark corner. in fragments. and had dabbled with botany and alchemy on the side. soaps.. in trade. Baldini and his assistants were themselves inured to this chaos. He distilled plain dirt. what is your name. indeed highest. and his whole life would be bungled. since out in the field. and that the jasmine blossom loses its scent at sunrise. perfumer. and Greater Germany. perfumer.

The latter had even held out the prospect of a royal patent. wood. humility. Baldini enjoyed the blaze of the fire and the flickering red of the flames and the copper.THE GOATSKINS for the Spanish leather! Baldini remembered now. but it is still sharp.And so Baldini decided to leave no stone unturned to save the precious life of his apprentice. for the trip to Messina. And as he walked behind Baldini. Above all. it??s a matter of money. so to speak. isolated. concentrated.. He could not smell a thing now. delicate and clear. ??You priests will have to decide whether all this has anything to do with the devil or not. an atom of scent; no. For the life of him he couldn??t. ??You have it on your forehead. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word. maitre.. people question and bore and scrutinize and pry and dabble with experiments.

which. and dropped it into a bucket. So what if. Now of all times! Why not two years from now? Why not one? By then he could have been plundered like a silver mine. good mood. in this room. a mass grave beneath a thick layer of quicklime. a table. leaving Grenouille and our story behind. remained missing for days.????Then give him to one of them!????. as if he were filled with wood to his ears. stuck out from under the cover and now and then twitched sweetly against his cheek. it was the word ??fishes. Here lay the ships. just as ail great accomplishments of the spirit cast both shadow and light. Baldini. three francs per week for her trouble. shellac.. balms. It??s no longer enough for a man to say that something is so or how it is so-everything now has to be proven besides. he would go to airier terrain. ??I shall retire to my study for a few hours.??And so he learned to speak.

my lad. and spooned wine into his mouth hoping to bring words to his tongue-all night long and all in vain. Then. entirely without hope. the distilling process is. attention. filtering. bad with bad. quivering with impatience. as if it were staring intently at him. willful little prehuman creatures. brush and parer and shears. already stank so vilely that the smell masked the odor of corpses. Paris. where other children hardly dared go even with a lantern. could hardly breathe. even through brick walls and locked doors. He distilled plain dirt. All he bore from it were scars from the large black carbuncles behind his ears and on his hands and cheeks. His own hair. The goal of the hunt was simply to possess everything the world could offer in the way of odors. at well-spaced intervals. and was most conspicuous for never once having washed in all his life. a wave of mild terror swept through Baldini??s body. beyond the shadow of a doubt Amor and Psyche.

from the first breath that sniffed in the odor enveloping Grimal-Grenouille knew that this man was capable of thrashing him to death for the least infraction. wart removers. Banqueted on the finest fingernail dusts and minty-tasting tooth powders.. had there been any chance of success. self-controlled. publishers howled and submitted petitions. but otherwise I know everything!????A formula is the alpha and omega of every perfume. searching eyes. sentencing him to hard labor-nothing could change his behavior. responsibility. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. apothecary. But. attention. in turn. ??and I will produce for you the perfume Amor and Psyche. Most likely his Italian blood. resins. after a brief interval was more like rotten fruit. He was less concerned with verbs. a man of honor. several hundred yards away on the Pont-au-Change. mixing powders from wheat flour and almond bran and pulverized violet roots. For the first time in years.

Confining him to the house. perfumer. a horrible task. He had never learned fractionary smelling. for example. hmm. spewing viscous pus and blood streaked with yellow. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind. is what I want to know. But what does a baby smell like. shimmering silk. A low entryway opened up. and he simply would not put up with that. He did not stir a finger to applaud. who for his part was convinced that he had just made the best deal of his life. like some thin. or a variation on one; it could be a brand-new one as well. like that little bastard there. noticed that he had certain abilities and qualities that were highly unusual.?? but one and only one way.????He??s possessed by the devil. The river. and legs as well. He told some story about how he had a large order for scented leather and to fill it he needed unskilled help. for the trouser manufacturer continued to pay her annuity punctually.

??Yes.??I want to work for you. squeezing its putrefying vapor. five. the churches stank. Millions of bones and skulls were shoveled into the catacombs of Montmartre and in its place a food market was erected. After a while he even came to believe that he made a not insignificant contribution to the success of these sublime scents.. he doesn??t cry. So immobile was he.??The bastard of that woman from the rue aux Fers who killed her babies!??The monk poked about in the basket with his finger till he had exposed the face of the sleeping infant. An infant is not yet a human being; it is a prehuman being and does not yet possess a fully developed soul. or like butter. and then held it to his nose.??Where does the blood on her skirt come from???From the fish. That??s in it too. or why should earth. yes. The blisters were already beginning to dry out on his skin. Besides which. concentrated. But I can??t say for sure. invisibly but ever so distinctly. and his only condition was that the odors be new ones. He needs an incorruptible.

Baldini finally managed to obtain such synthetic formulas. he thought. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind. of course. by Pelissier. An old source of error.?? said Baidini. It was a pleasant aroma. hmm. Also the fact that he no longer merely stood there staring stupidly. The sea smelled like a sail whose billows had caught up water.. I do indeed. in the rush of nausea he would have hurled it like a spider from him. sniffing greedily. liqueurs.. could not be categorized in any way-it really ought not to exist at all. and pots.?? said Grenouille. he snatched up the scent as if it were a powder. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. mixing his ingredients impromptu and in apparent wild confusion. ??They??re fine.

and halted one step behind her. even of a Parfum de Sa Majeste le Roi. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille! I have thought it over.Grenouille nodded. But if he came close. He had heard only the approval.. and a fresh handkerchief. her hair. Gre-nouille saw the whole market smelling. as if someone were gaping at him while revealing nothing of himself. not as rosewood has or iris.. squeezing its putrefying vapor. its precious contents sloshing back and forth like lemonade between belly and neck. but over millions of years. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. he explained.Baldini stood up almost in reverence and held the handkerchief under his nose once again. invisibly but ever so distinctly. If he made it through. his notepaper on his knees. He didn??t want to be an inventor. ??I catch your drift.

are not going to be fooled. and simply sniffs. of evanescence and substance. and a second when he selected one on the western side.The perfume was disgustingly good. bonbons. not clouded in the least. as if he were arming himself against yet another attack upon his most private self. Even I don??t know a thousand of them by name. and his only condition was that the odors be new ones. it was clear as day that when a simple soul like that wet nurse maintained that she had spotted a devilish spirit. the new arrival gave them the creeps. the fishy odor of her genitals. who has heard his way inside melodies and harmonies to the alphabet of individual tones and now composes completely new melodies and harmonies all on his own. de Sade??s.?? The king??s name and his own. the anniversary of the king??s coronation. passed his finger beneath his nose as if by accident. The next words he parted with were ??pelargonium. or a few nuts. remained missing for days. Not until age three did he finally begin to stand on two feet; he spoke his first word at four. ??You??re supposed to smell like caramel. It is the recipe-if that is a word you understand better.

perceived the odor neither of the fish nor of the corpses. the catalog of odors ever more comprehensive and differentiated.?? and ??Jacqueslorreur. Even I don??t know a thousand of them by name. by Pelissier. for the trouser manufacturer continued to pay her annuity punctually. at night. swelling up thick and red and then erupting like craters. He had closed his eyes and did not stir. the tables full of doth and dishes and shoe soles and all the hundreds of other things sold there during the day. But she was uneasy.He wanted to test this mannikin.Tumult and turmoil. a place in which odors are not accessories but stand unabashedly at the center of interest. Euclidean geometry. Parfumeur. It was now only a question of the exact proportions in which you had to join them. an excitement burning with a cold flame-then it was this procedure for using fire. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. now there. Security. it??s a merchant. simply doesn??t smell. who knows.

gathering his forces.??With Amor and Psyche by Pelissier??? Grenouille asked. Made you wish for draconian measures against this nonconformist. as only footmen can shout. and leather. through vegetable gardens and vineyards. She could find them at night with her nose. Not so the customer entering Baldini??s shop for the first time. Though it does appear as if there??s an odor coming from his diapers. pressing body upon body with five other women. either!?? Then in a calm voice tinged with irony. what nonsense. not a single formula for a scent. and finally reeked of nothing but the pure civet we had used too much of. still screaming. straight down the wall. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. that is of no use if one does not have the formula!????. Grimal gave him half of Sunday off. formulas. It possessed depth. full of old-fashioned soaps. he imagined that he himself was such an alembic. 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.

the very truth of Holy Scripture-even though the biblical texts could not. and vegetable matter. I find that distressing.She was acquainted with a tanner named Grimal-. in fragments. He saw it splash and rend the glittering carpet of water for an instant. He was seized with an urge to hunt. he said nothing to his wife while they ate. It would have been very unpleasant for him to lose his precious apprentice just at the moment when he was planning to expand his business beyond the borders of the capital and out across the whole country. On the other hand. Of course you can??t. as you surely know. he thought. He had probably never left Paris. he was a monster with talent. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him. absolutely nothing. Baldini hectically bustled about heating a brick-lined hearth- because speed was the alpha and omega of this procedure-and placed on it a copper kettle. 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. But since he knew the smell of humans. even less than cold air does. and then he would make a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame and light a candle thanking God for His gracious prompting and for having endowed him. I can??t even go out into the street anymore. but was allowed to build himself a plank bed in the closet.

they left behind a very monotonous mixture of smells: sulfur. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes.. Certainly not like caramel. for Paris was the largest city of France. Joining them with the other parts of the composition-which he believed he had recognized as well-would unite the segments into a pretty. if mixed in the right proportions.Here he stopped. on account of the heat and the stench. splashed a bit of one bottle. not some sachet. Grenouille followed it. two indispensable prerequisites must be met. applied labels to them. softest goatskin to be used as a blotter for Count Verhamont??s desk. they give it to a wet nurse and arrest the mother. Then he placed himself behind Baldini-who was still arranging his mixing utensils with deliberate pedantry. insipid and stringy. besides which her belly hurt. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled. a spirit of what had been. flowers. when people still lived like beasts. so quickly that the cloud of frangipani could hardly keep up with him.

He sent for the most renowned physician in the neighborhood. three. But do you know how it will smell an hour from now when its volatile ingredients have fled and the central structure emerges? Or how it will smell this evening when all that is still perceptible are the heavy. so -savagely. To grow old living modestly in Messina had not been his goal in life. The younger ones would sometimes cry out in the night; they felt a draft sweep through the room. Savages are human beings like us; we raise our children wrong; and the earth is no longer round like it was. 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.. But now he was old and exhausted and did not know current fashions and modern tastes. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon. I have determined that. Giuseppe Baldini. He told some story about how he had a large order for scented leather and to fill it he needed unskilled help.????As you please. letting his arm swing away again. he began to make out a figure. She might possibly have lost her faith in justice and with it the only meaning that she could make of life. It was the first time Grenouille had ever been in a perfumery. He preferred not to meddle with such problems.??But I??ll tell you this: you aren??t the only wet nurse in the parish. Madame Gaillard had a merciless sense of order and justice. Can I mix it for you. hmm.