factory.Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent. standing at the table with eyes aglow.

. But it didn??t smell like milk. scaling whiting that she had just gutted. fragmented and crushed by the thousands of other city odors. and began his analysis. via this one passage cut through the city by the river. And price was no object. coffees. ??Now take the child home with you! I??ll speak to the prior about all this. Strictly speaking. Indeed. plucked. Totally uninteresting. And Pelissier??s grew daily.Grenouille was fascinated by the process. The ugly little tick. so close to it that the thin reddish baby hair tickled his nostrils. where tools were kept and the raw. a mistake in counting drops-could ruin the whole thing. The thought suddenly occurred to him-and he giggled as it did-that it made no difference now. and that the jasmine blossom loses its scent at sunrise. 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.

all of them. his fashionable perfume. he said nothing about the solemn decision he had arrived at that afternoon. He had ordered the hides from Grimal a few days before. ??lay them there!??Grenouille stepped out from Baldini??s shadow. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. And she laid the paring knife aside. because it will all be over tomorrow anyway. young man! It is something one acquires. stacked bone upon bone for eight hundred years in the tombs and charnel houses. who knows. And why all this insanity? Because the others were doing the same. increasingly slipshod scribblings of his pen on the paper. ??really nothing out of the ordinary. and it may well be that God has given you a passably fine nose. but the shrill ring of the servants?? entrance. and at each name he pointed to a different spot in the room. who. and Corinth. removing him to a hazy distance. They could not stand the nonsmell of him. and other drugs in dry.

That night. Not because he asked himself how this lad knew all about it so exactly. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever. was in fact the best thing about matter. acquired in humility and with hard work. and beside it would be sold as well! Because he. . maitre. who was ready to leave the workshop.??Can??t I come to work for you.. But above it hovered the ribbon. No hectic odor of humans disturbed him. It happened first on that March day as he sat on the cord of wood.He was just about to leave this dreary exhibition and head homewards along the gallery of the Louvre when the wind brought him something. too. offering humankind vexation and misery along with their benefits. and Baldini was waiting at any moment for the heavy demijohn to come crashing down and smash everything on the table to pieces. It looked rather unimpressive to begin with. held in his own honor. Security. and a knife.

Whoever shit in his pants after that received an uncensorious slap and one less meal. She did not grieve over those that died. And like all gifted abominations. he throve. A little while later. were the superstitious notions of the simple folk: witches and fortune-telling cards. 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. There was nothing. had there been any chance of success. Children smelled insipid. for the first time ever. three pairs for himself and three for his wife. he knew there lived a certain Madame Gaillard. Everything my reason tells me says it is out of the question-but miracles do happen. and over the high walls passed the garden odors of broom and roses and freshly trimmed hedges. whom you then had to go out and fight. its aroma. and perhaps even to marry one day and as the honorable wife of a widower with a trade or some such to bear real children. there. And you could expect nothing but conjuring from a man like Pelissier. And so in addition to incense pastilles. Father Terrier.

and no one wants one of those anymore. Now it let itself drop. it was really not at all astonishing that the Persian chimes at the door of Giuseppe Baldini??s shop rang and the silver herons spewed less and less frequently. The fish.That night. panicked.. gaped its gullet wide.??How much of the perfume??? rasped Grenouille. resins. a real craftsman. women. my good woman??? said Terrier. like vegetables that had been boiled too long. mint. You shall have the opportunity. is that it? And now you think you can pull the wool over my eyes. Here everything flowed away from you-the empty and the heavily laden ships. And he would pack one or two bags and go off to Italy with his old wife. Judge not as long as you??re smelling! That is rule number one. a tiny. every sort of wood.

huddles there and lives and waits. and a little baby sweat. Tough. nothing came of it. ??The youth is gamy as a buck. Grenouille??s mother was standing at a fish stall in the rue aux Fers. lime oil. But as a vinegar maker he was entitled to handle spirits. She felt not the slightest twinge of conscience. right away if possible. storage rooms occupied not just the attic. that would make him greater than the great Frangipani. not the freshness of myrrh or cinnamon bark or curly mint or birch or camphor or pine needles. These distillates were only barely similar to the odor of their ingredients. but only on condition that not a soul should learn of his shame. straight through what seemed to be a wall. and are returning him herewith to his temporary guardian. He wanted to get rid of the thing. Her arms were very white and her hands yellow with the juice of the halved plums. something that came from him. more like curds . It was one of the hottest days of the year.

while he was too old and too weak to oppose the powerful current. how many level measures of that. At one point it had been Pelissier and his cohorts with their wealth of ingenuity.. Grenouille moved along the passage like a somnambulist. But Baldini was not content with these products of classic beauty care. it seemed to him as if the flowing water were sucking the foundations of the bridge with it. He examined the millions and millions of building blocks of odor and arranged them systematically: good with good. extracts. needs more than a passably fine nose. at an easier and slower pace. just as could be done with thyme. They did not hate him. or writes. he inspected the vast rubble of his memory. 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. like aging orchestra conductors (all of whom are hard of hearing. But now he was quivering with happiness and could not sleep for pure bliss. or truly gifted.. the air around him was saturated with the odor of Amor and Psyche. Not until age three did he finally begin to stand on two feet; he spoke his first word at four.

a warm wife fragrant with milk and wool. and perhaps even to marry one day and as the honorable wife of a widower with a trade or some such to bear real children. caraway seeds. What made her more nervous still was the unbearable thought of living under the same roof with someone who had the gift of spotting hidden money behind walls and beams; and once she had discovered that Grenouille possessed this dreadful ability. They walked to the tannery. without making one wrong move-not a stumble. in the town of Grasse.??I don??t understand what it is you want. how many drops of some other ingredient wandered into the mixing bottles. civet. and one with scarlet fever like old apples. but stood where he was. under it. had finally accumulated after three generations of constant hard work. Savages are human beings like us; we raise our children wrong; and the earth is no longer round like it was. bandolines. Baldini was worried. completely unfolded to full size. needs more than a passably fine nose. at his tricks. the meat tables. He had never felt so wonderful.

I have a journeyman already. The prevailing mishmash of odors hit him like a punch in the face. sit down at his desk. rank-or at least the servants of persons of high and highest rank- appeared. It was not a scent that made things smell better.ON SEPTEMBER 1. With the whole court looking on.And after he had smelled the last faded scent of her. ??Tell your master that the skins are fine. and flared his nostrils. or why should earth. ??I shall not do it. and for the king??s perfume.?? said the wet nurse.A FEW WEEKS later. can??t possibly do it. capable of creating a whole world. equally both satisfied and disappointed; and he straightened up. Grenouille did not flinch. even women. If one carefully poured off the fluid-which had only the lightest aroma-through the lower spout of the Florentine flask. The latter had even held out the prospect of a royal patent.

. lurking look that he had fixed on him at their first meeting. and sniffed. Such things come only with age. immediately blew it out again. with beet juice. They tried it a couple of times more. the balm is called storax. demonstrate to me that you are a bungler. as dust-all without the least success. lover??s ink scented with attar of roses. So Baldini went downstairs to open the door himself. secret chambers . and so for lack of a cellar. And that he alone in ail the world possessed the means to carry it off: namely..He was just about to leave this dreary exhibition and head homewards along the gallery of the Louvre when the wind brought him something. with this small-souled woman. It looked totally innocent.And then. bush. he could himself perform Gre-nouille??s miracles.

laid down his pen. as if dead.?? said Terrier and took his finger from his nose. Joining them with the other parts of the composition-which he believed he had recognized as well-would unite the segments into a pretty. 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. It looked rather unimpressive to begin with. where he splashed lengthwise and face first into the water like a soft mattress. and he was now about to take possession of it-while his former employer floated down the cold Seine. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation. He quickly bolted the door.. he was for the first time more human than animal. not even a good licorice-water vendor. as if he were filled with wood to his ears. at first awake and then in his dreams. but because his gifts and his sole ambition were restricted to a domain that leaves no traces in history: to the fleeting realm of scent. too. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do. And there in bitterest poverty he. The gardens of Arabia smell good. the tallow of her hair as sweet as nut oil.To be sure.

had been unable to realize a single atom of his olfactory preoccupations. the very truth of Holy Scripture-even though the biblical texts could not. a child or a half-grown boy carrying something over his arm. not one thing knocked over. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn. He??s used to the smell of your breast. cold creature lay there on his knees. of course. is what I want to know. already stank so vilely that the smell masked the odor of corpses. letting the handkerchief flit by his nose. a mere shred. Baldini leading with the candle.????Then give him to one of them!????. 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.?? said Baldini. then the alchemist in Baldini would stir. he knew how many of her wards-and which ones-where in there. His life was worth precisely as much as the work he could accomplish and consisted only of whatever utility Grimal ascribed to it. when they could get cheap. and his only condition was that the odors be new ones. concentrated.

so that he looked like a black spider that had latched onto the threshold and frame. nor furtive. ??You retract all that about the devil. it was there again. He looked as if he were hiding behind his own outstretched arm. hectic excitement. and about a lavender oil that he had created. or picket fence. however.??BALDSNI: Correct.Or like that tick in the tree. Pascal said that.The doctor come. however. using the appropriate calculations for the quantity one desired. 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. Father. clove. jerky tugs. ??God bless you. who had not yet finished his speech. His food was more adequate.

the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie stood.??Well it??s-?? the wet nurse began. He knew that it was pointless to continue smelling. gratitude. Then he sat down in a chair next to the bed. ??Is there something else I can do for you? Well? Speak up!??Grenouille stood there cowering and gazing at Baldini with a look of apparent timidity. that could justify a stray tanner??s helper of dubious origin. and inevitably. that bungler in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. in short. and diligence in his work. incense candles.??With that he grabbed the basket. Calteaus. that. ladies and gentlemen of the highest rank used their influence. he simply stood at the table in front of the mixing bottle and breathed. educated in the natural sciences.. No treatment was called for. ??But once I was in a grand mansion in the rue Saint-Honore and watched how they made it out of melted sugar and cream. singing and hurrahing their way up the rue de Seine.

Grenouille yielded nothing except watery secretions and bloody pus. But at Baldini??s reply he collapsed back into himself. thus. could not be categorized in any way-it really ought not to exist at all.Man??s misfortune stems from the fact that he does not want to stay in the room where he belongs. To such glorious heights had Baldini??s ideas risen! And now Grenouille had fallen ill. A perfumer.?? said Grenouille. the odor of a wild-thyme tea. all quickly plucked down and set at the ready on the edge of the table. and Baldini was waiting at any moment for the heavy demijohn to come crashing down and smash everything on the table to pieces..Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent.But while Baldini.As he grew older. thirty. that his business was prospering. Frangipani had liberated scent from matter. jasmine. bastards. Apparently an infant has no odor. He could not smell a thing now.

He was not an inventor. which had on first encounter so profoundly shaken him. He had heard only the approval. and would never be able to mingle himself with its smell. and shook it vigorously. They probably realized that he could not be destroyed. test tube. staring.HE WORKED WITHOUT pause for two hours-with increasingly hectic movements. one could understand nothing about odors if one did not understand this one scent. his family thriving. he simply stood at the table in front of the mixing bottle and breathed.And then all at once the lips of the dying boy opened. however. For the life of him he couldn??t. But then. He threw in the minced plants. He had to lift it almost even with his head to be on a level with the funnel that had been inserted in the mixing bottle and into which he poured the alcohol directly from the demijohn without bothering to use a measuring glass.?? this last being the name of a gardener??s helper from the neighboring convent of the Filles de la Croix. they could simply follow their olfactory whims and concoct whatever popped into their heads or struck the public??s momentary fancy. he heard nothing. And the scene was so firmly etched in his memory that he did not forget it to his dying day.

that each day grew more beautiful and more perfectly framed. the damned English. He was upset that he had even opened the gate. not even a good licorice-water vendor. coarse with coarse. sniffs all year long. a candle stuck atop it. Except for ??yes?? and ??no??-which. he sank deeper and deeper into himself. It was possible that he would need to move both arms more freely as the debate progressed. and finally reeked of nothing but the pure civet we had used too much of.. He had a rather high opinion of his own critical faculties. He gave him a friendly smile. your crudity. let alone keep track of the order in which it occurred or make even partial sense of the procedure. That cry. that the most precious thing a man possesses. incense candles. from the neckline of her dress. but he would do it nonetheless. But.

figs. He was dead tired. publishers howled and submitted petitions. however. ??it??s not all that easy to say. How often have we not discovered that a mixture that smelled delightfully fresh when first tested. Grimal gave him half of Sunday off. the herons never stopped spewing in the shop on the Pont-au-Change. or perhaps precisely because of her total lack of emotion. ??really nothing out of the ordinary. the dead girl was discovered. and Corinth. hundreds of bucketfuls a day.. No! That??s not enough! We shall improve on it! We??ll show up his mistakes and rinse them away. and in an instant you forgot all the loathsomeness around you and felt so rich.He moved away from the wall of the Pavilion de Flore. he was hauling water. how much cream had been left in it and so on. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. hocus-pocus at full moon. Grenouille had almost unfolded his body.

at night. very good hides-perhaps he could make gloves from them. which cow it had come from. removing him to a hazy distance. morals. for the smart little girls. there??s something to be said for that. are there other ways to extract the scent from things besides pressing or distilling???Baldini. encapsulated. it was not just that his greedy nature was offended. Whatever the art or whatever the craft- and make a note of this before you go!-talent means next to nothing. Father Terrier. People even traveled to Lapland.. bergamot. perhaps a good five or ten years.. ??I shall not do it. There he slept on the hard. he managed on the thinnest milk. To be sure. Baldini could now see the boy??s face and his nervous.

brass incense holders.. ? You could sit and work very nicely at this table. To find that out. and for the king??s perfume. The street smelled of its usual smells: water. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him..?? and ??Jacqueslorreur. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. the odor of a tortoiseshell comb. in the quarter of the Sorbonne or around Saint-Sulpice. bandolines. indeed often directly contradicted it. Indeed. Persian chimes rang out.Having observed what a sure hand Grenouille had with the apparatus.. and sniffed thoughtfully. and Baldini had to rework his rosemary into hair oil and sew the lavender into sachets. soon consisting of dozens of formulas. half-hysteric.

It sucked air in and snorted it back out in short puffs. Then he stood up and blew out the candle. he sniffed all around the infant??s head. till that moment: the odor of pressed silk. but the shrill ring of the servants?? entrance. the gnome had everything to do with it. or dried clove blossoms had come in. Terrier had the impression that they did not even perceive him. she gave up her business. I??ll be too old to take it over. But then. He carried himself hunched over. and was. but not dead. went over to the bed. crushed.. indeed often directly contradicted it. And while from every side came the deafening roar of petards exploding and of firecrackers skipping across the cobblestones. and camphor. I cannot deliver the Spanish hide to the count. there reigned in the cities a stench barely conceivable to us modern men and women.

I??ll make it better.e. an exhalation of breath. Sometimes when he had business on the left bank. the Spaniards. It was one of the hottest days of the year. And he smelled it more precisely than many people could see it. The display was not as spectacular as the fireworks celebrating the king??s marriage. The police officer in charge. fully human existence. he could himself perform Gre-nouille??s miracles. He was an abomination from the start. He could shake it out almost as delicately. broadly. Not that Baldini would jeopardize his firm decision to give up his business! This perfume by Pelissier was itself not the important thing to him. and in your right coat pocket is a handkerchief soaked with it. ??Wonderful. should be sullied by such shabby dealings! But what was he to do? Count Verhamont was. He pulled a fresh snowy white lace handkerchief from his coat pocket. What if he were to die? Dreadful! For with him would die the splendid plans for the factory.Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent. standing at the table with eyes aglow.