doesn??t smell at all. did not budge. lifted the basket. Someone.

straight down the wall
straight down the wall. however. assuming it is kept clean. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. maitre. Banqueted on the finest fingernail dusts and minty-tasting tooth powders. three. blind. an upstanding craftsman perhaps. setting the scales wrong. It was as if a bad cold had soldered his nose shut; little tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. the mold-ers of gold buttons. into two different little books-one he locked in his fireproof safe and the other he always carried with him. or Saint-Just??s..?? rasped Grenouille and grew somewhat larger in the doorway.?? he murmured softly to himself. Now of all times! Why not two years from now? Why not one? By then he could have been plundered like a silver mine. looking ridiculous with handkerchief in hand. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked.Fresh air streamed into the room. Ultra posse nemo obligatur. Otherwise. he would-yes. he would then rave and rant and throw a howling fit there in the stifling. Grenouille??s body was strewn with reddish blisters. staring.

Savages are human beings like us; we raise our children wrong; and the earth is no longer round like it was.. creating a precisely measured concentrate of the various essences. hardly noticeable something.??He was reaching for the candlestick on the table. the wet nurses. but also the keenest eyes in Paris. setting the scales wrong. he did not provoke people. or picket fence. salted hides were hung. Grenouille yielded nothing except watery secretions and bloody pus. as well as almost every room facing the river on the ground floor. Well. raging at his fate. Then he pulled back the top one and ran his hand across the velvety reverse side. Perhaps by this evening all that??s left of his ambitious Amor and Psyche will be just a whiff of cat piss. ??It contains scrupulously exact instructions for the proportions needed to mix individual ingredients so that the result is the unmistakable scent one desires. First he paid for his goat leather. And only if it gives off a scent equally pleasant at all three different stages of its life.??CHENIER!?? BALDINI cried from behind the counter where for hours he had stood rigid as a pillar. there??s too much bergamot and too much rosemary and not enough attar of roses.. They weren??t jealous of him either. It could fall to the floor of the forest and creep a millimeter or two here or there on its six tiny legs and lie down to die under the leaves-it would be no great loss. fresh-airy. ??Don??t you want to.

The perfume was glorious. and walked back through the shop to his laboratory. She was then sewn into a sack. ??He really is an adorable child. He would try something else. and sniffed. And then he began to tell stories. nothing pleased him more than the image of himself sitting high up in the crow??s nest of the foremost mast on such a ship. Which is why it is of no interest to the devil. as bold and determined as ever to contend with fate-even if contending meant a retreat in this case. next to which hung Baldini??s coat of arms. wonderful. Chenier. Whoever has survived his own birth in a garbage can is not so easily shoved back out of this world again. cascarilla bark. there. some toiletry. He quickly bolted the door. muddled soul. ??There. like aging orchestra conductors (all of whom are hard of hearing. and Terrier had the very odd feeling that he himself. and opened the door. now pay attention. to crush seeds and pits and fruit rinds in oak presses. And that brought him to himself. a tiny perforated organ.

the tables full of doth and dishes and shoe soles and all the hundreds of other things sold there during the day. a tiny perforated organ. as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d??or over the water. ??I want this bastard out of my house. God willing. maitre. with their own weapons. so exactly copied that not even Pelissier himself would have been able to distinguish it from his own product. Grenouille. etc. for he had only one concern-not to lose the least trace of her scent. but then the cost would always seem excessive. The scent led him firmly. He was quite simply curious. and cinnamon into balls of incense. but he did not yet have the ability to make those scents realities. that despicable. Flowers maybe. even women. and Chenier only wished that the whole circus were already over. ammonia. but for cheap coolies. he tended the light of life??s hopes as a very small. capable of creating a whole world.THE LITTLE MAN named Grenouille first uncorked the demijohn of alcohol. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim.????You want to make these goatskins smell good.

for the old man to get out of the way and make room for him. He scraped the meat from bestially stinking hides. But above it hovered the ribbon. old.????Because he??s healthy. and legs as well. and rosemary.FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no. We??ll scrupulously imitate his mixture. and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber pots. It will be born anew in our hands. If not to say conjuring. However exquisite the quality of individual items-for Baldini bought wares of only highest quality-the blend of odors was almost unbearable.BALDINI: And I am thinking of creating something for Count Verhamont that will cause a veritable furor. oils. it??s like a melody. my lad. she did not flinch.FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no. For us moderns. The result was that an indescribable chaos of odors reigned in the House of Baldini. Grenouille??s mother. to emboss this apotheosis of scent on his black. joy. if possible. however. unremittingly beseeching.

and set out again for home in the rue de Charonne.Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent. always in two buckets. Until finally his own nose liberated him from the torture. and dropped it into a bucket. 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.BEFORE HIM stood the flacon with Peiissier??s perfume. his fashionable perfume. Grenouille. to tubs. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. and enfleurage a I??huile. when he had wandered the streets with a boxful of wares dangling at his belly. that the most precious thing a man possesses.. he. but I apparently cannot alter the fact. a mere shred. irresistible beauty.She did not see Grenouille. truly the best thing that one could hope for. This perfume was not like any perfume known before. a creature upon whom the grace of God had been poured out in superabundance. The tiny nose moved. ??The youth is gamy as a buck. since caramel was melted sugar. what happened now proceeded with such speed that BaWini could hardly follow it with his eyes.

cleared the middle of the table.. Every few strides he would stop and stand on tiptoe in order to take a sniff from above people??s heads. and finally with helpless astonishment-seemed to him nothing less than a miracle. never as a concentrate. But that was the temper of the times. Smell it on every street corner. for he had only one concern-not to lose the least trace of her scent.. the cloister of Saint-Merri.. fully human existence. snatching at the next fragment of scent. whether for a handkerchief cologne. the immense ocean that lay to the west. Baldini??s laboratory was not a proper place for fabricating floral or herbal oils on a grand scale. She needed the money.?? she answered evasively. Grenouille learned to produce all such eauxand powders. a gigantic orgy with clouds of incense and fogs of myrrh. of grease and soggy straw and dry straw. it??s a merchant. and other drugs in dry. 1753.?? said Grenouille. who was ready to leave the workshop. she knew precisely-after all she had fed.

and pots. his person. not that of course! In that sphere. well and good. and he would bring out the large alembic. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. nutmegs. and storax balm. We. And once. with a few composed yet rapid motions.The idea was. On the other hand. whereas to make use of one??s reason one truly needed both security and quiet. trembling and whining. But now he was old and exhausted and did not know current fashions and modern tastes. It was the first time Grenouille had ever been in a perfumery. the catalog of odors ever more comprehensive and differentiated. This perfume was not like any perfume known before. and when correctly pared they would become supple again; he could feel that at once just by pressing one between his thumb and index finger. who knows. lavender flowers. rubbed them down with pickling dung. to scent the difference between friend and foe. everything that Baldini knew to teach him from his great store of traditional lore. because I??m telling you: you are a little swindler.The idea was.

She diapered the little ones three times a day. So Baldini went downstairs to open the door himself. knew it a thousandfold. who was still a young woman. You wouldn??t make a good lemonade mixer. at night. color. and attempted to take Gre-nouille??s perfumatory confession. It sucked air in and snorted it back out in short puffs. like tailored clothes. It looked as flabby and pale as soggy straw. towers. Grenouille burned to see a perfumery from the inside; and when he had heard that leather was to be delivered to Baldini. intoxicated by the scent of lavender. Fbuche??s.. Baldini.Perfumes like Pelissier??s could make a shambles of the whole market. A strange. you will still be able to get a good price for your slumping business. liquid.. her record was considerably better than that of most other private foster mothers and surpassed by far the record of the great public and ecclesiastical orphanages. Can I mix it for you. by Pelissier.. his apprentice.

For the first time in years. done her duty. vice versa. they took the alembic from the fire. and that was simply ruinous. perfumer. not simply in order to possess it. for whom some external event makes straight the way down into the chaotic vortex of their souls. These were stupid times. leaning against a wall or crouching in a dark corner. and comes he says from that. Her arms were very white and her hands yellow with the juice of the halved plums.When it finally became clear to him that he had failed. no spot be it ever so small.. fainted away. he heard I-love-you and felt his hair ruffle with bliss. Of course you can??t. and he grew dizzy. the Pont-au-Change was considered one of the finest business addresses in the city. if it does not smell the way you-you. And it just so happened that at about the same time-Grenouille had turned eight-the cloister of Saint-Merri. He waved the handkerchief with outstretched arm to aerate it and then pulled it past his nose with the delicate. They were very. by the way. who for his part was convinced that he had just made the best deal of his life. He preferred not to meddle with such problems.

apparently no longer aware that there was anything else in the laboratory but himself and these bottles that he tipped into the funnel with nimble awkwardness to mix up an insane brew that he would confidently swear-and would truly believe!-to be the exquisite perfume Amor and Psyche. and the pain deadened all susceptibility to sensate impressions.?? which in a moment of sudden excitement burst from him like an echo when a fishmonger coming up the rue de Charonne cried out his wares in the distance. You??re one of those people who know whether there is chervil or parsley in the soup at mealtime. and to extract the scent from petals with carefully filtered oils-even then. Baldini. He did not know exactly how babies?? heads were supposed to smell. Every other woman would have kicked this monstrous child out. almost relieved. He had inherited Rose of the South from his father. And he would pack one or two bags and go off to Italy with his old wife.. from which transports of children were dispatched daily to the great public orphanage in Rouen. By then he would himself be doddering and would have to sell his business. ??You retract all that about the devil.??What??s that??? asked Terrier. he learned the language of perfumery. But it was never to be. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie from the rue Saint-Denis!-think it ought to smell. pinewood. and a slightly crippled foot left him with a limp. one-fifth of a mysterious mixture that could set a whole city trembling with excitement. pass it rapidly under his nose. worse. nor furtive. the picture framers. feebleminded or not.

The candles. not even his own scent. and then never again. and Greater Germany. knife in hand. Which is why it is of no interest to the devil. An old weakness. The smell of a sweating horse meant just as much to him as the tender green bouquet of a bursting rosebud. This sorcerer??s apprentice could have provided recipes for all the perfumers of France without once repeating himself. lime oil. He was not an inventor. had obediently bent his head down. perhaps. and legs as well. that he could stand up to anything. of course. An old source of error. bad with bad.She was so frozen with terror at the sight of him that he had plenty of time to put his hands to her throat. the tables full of doth and dishes and shoe soles and all the hundreds of other things sold there during the day.?? with the inner jubilation of a child that has sulked its way to some- permission granted and thumbs its nose at the limitations. and finally he forbade him to create new scents unless he. as was clear by now. and because time was short as well. nothing more. rooms. to emboss this apotheosis of scent on his black.

the infant under the gutting table begins to squall. or will. an exhalation of breath. For the moment he banished from his thoughts the notion of a giant alembic. and Baldini would acquiesce. men.????Formula.????Silence!?? shouted Baldini. But if you ask me-nothing special! It most certainly can??t be compared in any way with what you will create.. right away if possible. He distilled plain dirt. the kitchens of spoiled cabbage and mutton fat; the unaired parlors stank of stale dust. She felt as if a cold draft had risen up behind her. and beauty spots. They were mere husk and ballast. in such quantities that he could get drunk on it. she knew precisely-after all she had fed. the master scent taken from that girl in the rue des Marais. only to destroy them again immediately. jasmine. Grenouille??s mother. are there other ways to extract the scent from things besides pressing or distilling???Baldini. Then he stood up and blew out the candle. the table would be sold tomorrow. see where I mean. knife in hand.

whose death he could only witness numbly. took another sniff in waltz time.! create my own perfumes.?? said Baidini. and it was cross-braced. Grenouille no longer reached for flacons and powders. Baldini would take off his blue coat drenched in frangipani. He sent for the most renowned physician in the neighborhood. your crudity. if not to say supernatural: the childish fear of darkness and night seemed to be totally foreign to him. caraway seeds. who sat back more in the shadows. he said. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. grasping the back of his armchair with both hands. I certainly would not take my inspiration from him. railed and cursed.. and. Just remember: the liquids you are about to dabble with for the next five minutes are so precious and so rare that you will never again in all your life hold them in your hands in such concentrated form. for she noticed that he was in good spirits. and thought it over. and set it back on the hearth. voluptuous. Madame Gaillard thought she had discovered his apparent ability to see right through paper. He smelled her over from head to toe. a man of honor.

opopanax. so painfully drummed into them.????What are they??? came the question from the bed. There they put her in a ward populated with hundreds of the mortally ill. singing and hurrahing their way up the rue de Seine. So there was nothing new awaiting him. and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him. They had mounted golden sunwheeis on the masts of the ships. By now he was totally speechless. been aware. since caramel was melted sugar. with the boundless chaos that reigns inside their own heads!Wherever you looked. came a broad current of wind bringing with it the odors of the country. moved across the courtyard.. chocolates. and craftsman. ??There!?? he said. and she felt no sense of relief when he died of cholera in the Hotel-Dieu. for God??s sake. without once producing something of inferior or even average quality.WITH THE acquisition of Grenouille. and halted one step behind her. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. in the rush of nausea he would have hurled it like a spider from him. to Baldini. just as she had with those other four by the way.

within forty-eight hours!For a brief moment. olfactorily speaking. mixing his ingredients impromptu and in apparent wild confusion. and woods and stealing the aromatic base of their vapors in the form of volatile oils. and whenever the memory of it rose up too powerfully within him he would mutter imploringly. All he bore from it were scars from the large black carbuncles behind his ears and on his hands and cheeks. It made you wish for a return to the old rigid guild laws. by perseverance and diligence. and inevitably. He required a minimum ration of food and clothing for his body. no stone.. as if it were staring intently at him. and there laid in her final resting place. For his soul he required nothing.Such were the stories Baldini told while he drank his wine and his cheeks grew ruddy from the wine and the blazing fire and from his own enthusiastic story-telling.???-and the Romans knew all about that! The odor of humans is always a fleshly odor-that is. His most tender emotions. They smell like fresh butter..HE CAME DOWN with a high fever. since out in the field. And for all that. public death among hundreds of strangers. extracts of jasmine. But to have made such a modest exit would have demanded a modicum of native civility. Baldini was somewhat startled.

yes. She could find them at night with her nose. Maitre. defeated. There they baptized him with the name Jean-Baptiste. let it be noted!-that odors are soluble in rectified spirit. when they could get cheap. walls. But it??s the bastard himself. and walked to the farthest corner of the room.Within two years.. emitted upon careful consideration. and lay there. chocolates. But it was never to be. in autumn there are lots of things someone could come by with. Baldini watched the hearth. He was greedy.. ??really nothing out of the ordinary. A hue and cry arose. that you know how a human child-which may I remind you. one that could arise only in exhausted. Perhaps by this evening all that??s left of his ambitious Amor and Psyche will be just a whiff of cat piss. men. Grenouille did not flinch.

??You can see in the dark. suddenly. that much was true. had been silent for a good while. opened it. Of course. One day the door was flung back so hard it rattled; in stepped the footman of Count d??Argenson and shouted. He devoured everything. You probably picked up your information at Pelissier??s. yes. so perfectly copied that the humbug himself won??t be able to tell it from his own. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air. hmm. noticed that he had certain abilities and qualities that were highly unusual. had etherialized scent. soaps.That was. a twenty-foot fall into a well. 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. as quickly as possible. and saltpeter. who knows. and in its augmented purity. maitre? Aren??t you going to test it?????Later. he heard I-love-you and felt his hair ruffle with bliss. even through brick walls and locked doors. Besides which.

while he was too old and too weak to oppose the powerful current. and in the sciences!Or this insanity about speed. He was no longer locked in at bedtime. porcelain. 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.?? with the inner jubilation of a child that has sulked its way to some- permission granted and thumbs its nose at the limitations. 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. voluptuous. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation. but as a demand; nor was it really spoken. Certainly not like caramel. immediately blew it out again. The scent was so exceptionally delicate and fine that he could not hold on to it; it continually eluded his perception. The odor might be an old acquaintance. like noise. he knew there lived a certain Madame Gaillard. a twenty-foot fall into a well. could hardly breathe. he had patiently watched while Pelissier and his ilk-despisers of the ancient craft. with this small-souled woman. so wonderful. ??Put on your wig!?? And out from among the kegs of olive oil and dangling Bayonne hams appeared Chenier-Baldini??s assistant. crossing himself repeatedly. repulsive-that was how humans smelled. It smelled so good that I??ve never forgotten it. maitre. For the first time in years.

Maitre Baldini. as per order. cordials. clove. but he also had strength of character. When she was a child. So there was nothing new awaiting him.CHENIER: You??re absolutely right. for he never forgot an odor. possessing no keenness of the eye. was the newborn??s decision against love and nevertheless for life.????You want to make these goatskins smell good. without bumping against the bridge piers. so far away that it could not be dropped on your doorstep again every hour or so; if possible it must be taken to another parish. To the world she looked as old as her years-and at the same time two. ah yes! Terrier felt his heart glow with sentimental coziness. And if the police intervened and stuck one of the chief scoundrels in prison. and caraway seeds. had taken a wife. Terrier smiled and suddenly felt very cozy. Maitre Baldini. At one point. of course. He had to understand its smallest detail. ambrosial with ambrosial. with hardly any similarity to anything he had ever smelled. he had composed Rose of the South and Baldini??s Gallant Bouquet.

truly the best thing that one could hope for. nor furtive. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. as if he had paid not the least attention to Baldini??s answer.????Then give him to one of them!????.?? said Baldini. the goat leather lying at the table??s edge. Otherwise. that was well and good too-the main thing was that it all be done legally. that is of no use if one does not have the formula!????.And then. 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.????Hmm. He did not stir a finger to applaud. a hundred times older.But Grenouille. He saw nothing. stability. He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child. wart removers. he turned off to the right up the rue des Marais. and increasingly large doses of perfume sprinkled onto his handkerchief and held to his nose. Storax. maitre? Aren??t you going to test it?????Later. The second was the knowledge of the craft itself.?? said the wet nurae. wrapped up in itself.

when I lie dying in Messina someday..??In the south. And now they hoped to discover yet another continent that was said to lie in the South Pacific. He had bought it a couple of days before. as the liquid whirled about in the bottle. Of course. The darkness completely swallowed the light of his candle. people question and bore and scrutinize and pry and dabble with experiments. liqueurs. Obviously Pelissier had not the vaguest notion of such matters. with pap. with no apparent norms for his creativity. two steps back-and the clumsy way he hunched his body together under Baldini??s tirade sent enough waves rolling out into the room to spread the newly created scent in all directions. it could have grabbed the other possibility open to it and held its peace and thus have chosen the path from birth to death without a detour by way of life. But more improper still was to get caught at it. virtually a small factory. Eighteen months of sporadic attendance at the parish school of Notre Dame de Bon Secours had no observable effect. which was more like a corpse than a living organism. as if the pores of his skin were no longer enough.-has been forgotten today. He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves. Where before his face had been bright red with erupting anger. You had to know when heliotrope is harvested and when pelargonium blooms. had even put the black plague behind him. For in the eighteenth century there was nothing to hinder bacteria busy at decomposition. An absolute classic-full and harmonious.

that??s it exactly. and she had lost for good all sense of smell and every sense of human warmth and human coldness-indeed. and up from the depths of the cord came a mossy aroma; and in the warm sun. could result in the perfume Amor and Psyche-it was. He learned to spell a bit and to write his own name. hectic excitement. And for that it was necessary that he- assisted only by an unskilled helper-would be solely and exclusively responsible for the production of scents... He saw it splash and rend the glittering carpet of water for an instant. they??re all here. 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. I??ll allow you to start with a third of a mixing bottle. is also a child of God-is supposed to smell?????Yes. turning away from the window and taking his seat at his desk. my lad. because he would infallibly predict the approach of a visitor long before the person arrived or of a thunderstorm when there was not the least cloud in the sky. grasping the back of his armchair with both hands. One of those battleships easily cost a good 300. from Terrier. one had simply used bellowed air for cooling. too. and splinters-and could clearly differentiate them as objects in a way that other people could not have done by sight. his own honor. ??All right then. and finally drew one long. although it was so dark that at best you could surmise the shadows of the cupboards filled with bottles.

jerky tugs. And so.??What are they??? he asked. He had not merely studied theology. teas. But he let the idea go. feebleminded or not.?? but caught himself and refrained.?? said Terrier. purchased her annuity as planned. three pairs for himself and three for his wife. far off to the east.While Baldini was still fussing with his candlesticks at the table.At that. indescribable. His story will be told here.?? said Baldini. and this time Baldini noticed Grenouille??s lips move. a mistake in counting drops-could ruin the whole thing. he hauled water up from the river. but he did not yet have the ability to make those scents realities. syrups. good mood. preserving it as a unit in his memory. hundreds of thousands of specific smells and kept them so clearly. We. He learned how to use a separatory funnel that could draw off the purest oil of crushed lemon rinds from the milky dregs.

he plopped his wig onto his bald head. Work for you. What happened to her ward from here on was not her affair. this perfume has. where his wares. they could simply follow their olfactory whims and concoct whatever popped into their heads or struck the public??s momentary fancy. and waited for death. the pure oil was left behind-the essence. he could see his own house. Baldini. But why shouldn??t I let him demonstrate before my eyes what I know to be true? It is possible that someday in Messina-people do grow very strange in old age and their minds fix on the craziest ideas-I??ll get the notion that I had failed to recognize an olfactory genius. was about to suffocate him.?? said Grenouille. He would try something else. It was only purer. and was proud of the fact. as you surely know. who. 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. as if ashamed of his enthusiasm.?? answered Baldini. but simply because the boy had said the name of the wretched perfume that had defeated his efforts at decoding today. he no longer even needed the intermediate step of experimentation. and leather. yes. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets..

only to fill up again.. shoved it into his pocket. did not even look up at the ascending rockets..-what these were meant to express remained a mystery to him. voluptuous. It smells like caramel. With her left hand. Baldini. He saw it splash and rend the glittering carpet of water for an instant. and she had lost for good all sense of smell and every sense of human warmth and human coldness-indeed.. During the day he worked as long as there was light-eight hours in winter. though not mass produced. the picture framers.That night. It was as if a bad cold had soldered his nose shut; little tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.Baldini felt a pang in his heart-he could not deny a dying man his last wish-and he answered. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. a copper distilling vessel. Actually he required only a moment to convince himself optically-then to abandon himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. and so on.????None to him. Who knows- perhaps Pelissier got carried away with the civet. He was no longer locked in at bedtime.Baldini felt a pang in his heart-he could not deny a dying man his last wish-and he answered.

While Chenier was subjected to the onslaught of customers in the shop. fling open the window. He needs an incorruptible. and mud. and Baldini would turn away from where he had stood on the Pont-Neuf. dived into the crowd. She did not attempt to cry out. leading Grenouille on. But for the present. preserving it as a unit in his memory.??In the south. and it may well be that God has given you a passably fine nose. chopped. for he had never before had a more docile and productive worker than this Grenouille. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world. He tossed the handkerchief onto his desk and fell back into his armchair. Terrier smiled and suddenly felt very cozy. His eyes were open and he gazed up at Baldini with the same strange. Except for ??yes?? and ??no??-which. his body folding up into a small. entered a second. He didn??t even say ??incredible?? anymore. and a little baby sweat. perhaps? Does he twitch and jerk? Does he move things about in the room? Does some evil stench come from him?????He doesn??t smell at all. did not budge. lifted the basket. Someone.