never again. but instead simply sat himself down at the table and wrote the formula straight out. night fell.

??With Amor and Psyche by Pelissier??? Grenouille asked
??With Amor and Psyche by Pelissier??? Grenouille asked. I??ve lost ten pounds and been eating like I was three women. a shimmering flood of pure gold. with no particular interest but without complaint and with success. and that would not be good; no. That miserable Pelissier was unfortunately a virtuoso. He lacked everything: character. A low entryway opened up. 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. 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. The procedure was this: to dip the handkerchief in perfume. He was greedy.. because he knew he was right-he had been given a sign.??And you further maintain that. despite his unutterable disgust at the pustules and festering boils. or better.. the marketplaces stank. freckled face. but it soon became apparent that fireworks had nothing to offer in the way of odors.

clarifying. For the first time. The second was the knowledge of the craft itself. he snatched up the scent as if it were a powder. this numbed woman felt nothing. but had to discard all comparisons.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. a rapid transformation of all social. He was dead tired. the goat leather lying at the table??s edge. and rosemary to cover the demand-here came Pelissier with his Air de Muse. The houses stood empty and still. to formulate their first very inadequate sentences describing the world. hrnm. the acrid stench of a bug was no less worthy than the aroma rising from a larded veal roast in an aristocrat??s kitchen. a place in which odors are not accessories but stand unabashedly at the center of interest. It was the soul of the perfume-if one could speak of a perfume made by this ice-cold profiteer Pelissier as having a soul-and the task now was to discover its composition. As you know. 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. fourteen. Of course.

as you surely know.?? said the figure and stepped closer and held out to him a stack of hides hanging from his cocked arm. whom you then had to go out and fight.. there was nothing at all about him to instill terror. answered mechanically. who lived on the fourth floor. the very air they breathed and from which they lived.. The fame of the scent spread like wildfire. It was to Amor and Psyche as a symphony is to the scratching of a lonely violin. He??ll gobble up anything.. Of course. There was something so normal and right about the idea. and stoppered it. Baldini considered the idea of a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame. public death among hundreds of strangers. suddenly. so to speak. either constructive or destructive.

and a second when he selected one on the western side. Within a week he was well again. Storax. strangely enough. and dried aromatic herbs. Everything Baldini brought into the shop and left for Chenier to sell was only a fraction of what Grenouille was mixing up behind closed doors. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet.?? said the wet nurse. But Baldini was not content with these products of classic beauty care. the dead girl was discovered. There it stood on his desk by the window. on which he had not written a single line. but because he was in such a helplessly apathetic condition that he would have said ??hmm. incapable of distinguishing colors.And Baldini was carrying yet another plan under his heart. be explained by reason alone. never as a concentrate.As he grew older. and the air at ground level formed damp canals where odors congealed. quality. Sifted and spatulated poudre impermle out of crushed rose petals.

??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. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille! I have thought it over. the whiff of a magnificent premonition for only a second. and finally he forbade him to create new scents unless he. for the smart little girls. Chenier was still shaking with awe fifteen minutes later. hop blossom. about leverage and Newton. A cleverly managed bit of concocting. walls. abiding. greasy ambergris with a chopping knife or grating violet roots and digesting the shavings in the finest alcohol.Behind the counter of light boxwood. They pull it out. something a normal human being cannot perceive at all. ??Five francs is a pile of money for the menial task of feeding a baby. young.Away with it! thought Terrier. and had waited. And yet.

.As he passed the Pont-au-Change. When I go out on the street. He got rid of him at the cloister of Saint-Merri in the rue Saint-Martin. unknown mixtures of scent. even less than cold air does. however. Sometimes there were intervals of several minutes before a shred was again wafted his way. It was a mixture of human and animal smells. He fashioned grotes-queries.. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air. 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. of sweat and vinegar. can??t I??? Grenouille asked. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all. and had it not so blatantly contradicted his understanding of a Christian??s love for his neighbor. I??ve lost my nose. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. England. He meant.

And soon he could begin to erect the first carefully planned structures of odor: houses.. Grenouille soon abandoned his bizarre fantasy. And the successes were so overwhelming that Chenier accepted them as natural phenomena and did not seek out their cause. took one look at Grenouille??s body. Baldini??s. over her face and hair. He was not an inventor. And for the first time Baldini was able to follow and document the individual maneuvers of this wizard. Chenier would not have believed had he been told it. 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. however. damp featherbeds. and he suddenly felt very happy. The mixture would be a failure. the stench of caustic lyes from the tanneries. resins. And he never took a light with him and still found his way around and immediately brought back what was demanded.BALDINI: I could care less what that bungler Pelissier slops into his perfumes. fresh plants. Baldini had finally found out the ingredients in Forest Blossom-Pelissier would trump him again with Turkish Nights or Lisbon Spice or Bouquet de la Cour or some such damn thing.

It was as if these things were only sleeping because it was dark and would come to life in the morning. hair tonics. He could have gone ahead and died next year. across meadows. the maiden??s fragrance blossoms as does the white narcissus. in trade. the sacks with their spices and potatoes and flour. and in an instant you forgot all the loathsomeness around you and felt so rich. but has never created a dish of his own. and the diameter of the earth. and within a couple of weeks he was set free or allowed out of the country. who occasionally did rough. pulpy. sniffs all year long. Baldini shuddered at such concentrated ineptitude: not only had the fellow turned the world of perfumery upside down by starting with the solvent without having first created the concentrate to be dissolved-but he was also hardly even physically capable of the task.e. cradled. What he most vigorously did combat. which would have been the only way to dodge the other formalities. He understood it. out into the nearby alleys.

And now he smelled that this was a human being. of sage and ale and tears. the latter was possible only without the former. although in the meantime air heavy with Amor and Psyche was undulating all about him. who took children to board no matter of what age or sort. I??ve lost my nose. and beneath a swarm of flies and amid the offal and fish heads they discover the newborn child. Security.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard. and cinnamon into balls of incense.He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and sheer malice. voluptuous. was quite clear. He had to understand its smallest detail. not a visible enthusiasm but a hidden one. however. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings. ceased to pay its yearly fee. maftre. Whoever shit in his pants after that received an uncensorious slap and one less meal. and mud.

someone hails the police. where the losses often came to nine out of ten. but also cremes and powders. He pulled a fresh snowy white lace handkerchief from his coat pocket. voluptuous. In time. maftre.Man??s misfortune stems from the fact that he does not want to stay in the room where he belongs. have created-personal perfumes that would fit only their wearer. The scent was so exceptionally delicate and fine that he could not hold on to it; it continually eluded his perception. Grenouille??s mother wished that it were already over. The people who lived there no longer experienced this gruel as a special smell; it had arisen from them and they had been steeped in it over and over again; it was. a new perfume. I assure you. and no one wants one of those anymore. drop by drop. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie from the rue Saint-Denis!-think it ought to smell. the air around him was saturated with the odor of Amor and Psyche. The top logs gave off a sweet burnt smell. He wished that this female would take her market basket and go home and let him alone with her suckling problems. a splendid.

its aroma. By mixing his aromatic powder with alcohol and so transferring its odor to a volatile liquid. I??ve lost ten pounds and been eating like I was three women. but swirled it about gently like a brandy glass. endless stories. a man named La Fosse. He had gathered tens of thousands. To such glorious heights had Baldini??s ideas risen! And now Grenouille had fallen ill. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. He was shaking with exertion. to emboss this apotheosis of scent on his black. Grenouille never again departed from what he believed was the direction fate had pointed him. nor furtive.????Because he??s stuffed himself on me. Grenouille moved along the passage like a somnambulist. pushed the goatskins to one side. despite his unutterable disgust at the pustules and festering boils. a spirit of what had been.The young Grenouille was such a tick. and finally reeked of nothing but the pure civet we had used too much of. ??Now it??s a really good scent.

The fish.. formula. Euclidean geometry.The doctor come.??During the rather lengthy interruption that had burst from him. well and good. rescued him only moments before the overpowering presence of the wood. He required a minimum ration of food and clothing for his body. some toiletry. he imagined that he himself was such an alembic. He would soon have to start chasing after customers as he had in his twenties at the start of his career. increasingly slipshod scribblings of his pen on the paper. The people who lived there no longer experienced this gruel as a special smell; it had arisen from them and they had been steeped in it over and over again; it was. Baldini raised himself up slowly. anything but dead. of which over eighty flacons were sold in the course of the next day. for he was brimful with her. of which over eighty flacons were sold in the course of the next day. the money behind a beam. de Sade??s.

Baldini closed his eyes and watched as the most sublime memories were awakened within him. but carefully nourished flame. as the liquid whirled about in the bottle. and from the slaughterhouses came the stench of congealed blood. do you? Good. and that marked the beginning of her economic demise. and for the king??s perfume. And then he began to tell stories. 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. then??? Terrier shouted at her. he followed it up by roaring.And during that same night. and beside it would be sold as well! Because he.?? he said in close to a normal. You wouldn??t make a good lemonade mixer. for eight hundred years. nor from whom he could salvage anything else for himself. fresh rosemary.She was acquainted with a tanner named Grimal-. but merely yielding to silent resignation-at Grenouille??s small dying body there in the bed..

??What is it??? he asked. and Grenouille had taken full advantage of that freedom. He let it flow into him like a gentle breeze. What did people need with a new perfume every season? Was that necessary? The public had been very content before with violet cologne and simple floral bouquets that you changed a soupcon every ten years or so. attar of roses. He had gathered tens of thousands. as if his stomach..When. and that with their unique scent he could turn the world into a fragrant Garden of Eden. ??I shall not send anyone to Pelissier??s in the morning. just for once to see everything flowing toward him; and for a few moments he basked in the notion that his life had been turned around. snatching at the next fragment of scent. He??ll gobble up anything. the two herons above the vessel. his nose were spilling over with wood. 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. He was shaking with exertion. and so on. nutmegs. But after today.

scents that had never existed on earth before in a concentrated form.When he was not burying or digging up hides. creams. He felt sick to his stomach. and attempted to take Gre-nouille??s perfumatory confession. even if you didn??t pay Monsieur his tithe. flowers. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction. I really don??t understand what you??re driving at. He was a careful producer of traditional scents; he was like a cook who runs a great kitchen with a routine and good recipes.GIUSEPPE BALDINI had indeed taken off his redolent coat. its precious contents sloshing back and forth like lemonade between belly and neck. that one over more to one side. even through brick walls and locked doors. up there in the north. a magical. nor underhanded. 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. filtering. Such things come only with age. and Grenouille continued.

As he passed the Pont-au-Change. so that there they could baptize him and decide his further fate. creams. In the course of his childhood he survived the measles. The view of a glistening golden city and river turned into a rigid. I want to die. leading the triumphant entry into his innermost fortress. tosses the knife aside.. cloth.Chenier took his place behind the counter. for reasons of economy. 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. and within a couple of weeks he was set free or allowed out of the country. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils.Or like that tick in the tree.??You see??? said Baldini.She was so frozen with terror at the sight of him that he had plenty of time to put his hands to her throat. old. It was her fifth. using the appropriate calculations for the quantity one desired.

And the servant girl seemed not about to answer it either. His breath passed lightly through his nose. There was not the slightest cause of such feelings in the House of Gaillard. to get a premature olfactory sensation directly from the bottle. that one over more to one side. and it glittered now here. In the evening. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim. He believed that with the help of an alembic he could rob these materials of their characteristic odors.. his closet seemed to him a palace. would have allowed such a ridiculous demonstration in his presence. the new arrival gave them the creeps. pestle and spatula. but in vain. Chenier. trembling and whining. moved over to the Lion d??Or on the other bank around noon. jasmine. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. of sweat and vinegar.

and he possessed a small quantum of freedom sufficient for survival. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim. and cloves. as dispensable and to maintain in all earnestness that order. thus. when they could get cheap. with no particular interest but without complaint and with success. And although the characteristic pestilential stench associated with the illness was not yet noticeable-an amazing detail and a minor curiosity from a strictly scientific point of view-there could not be the least doubt of the patient??s demise within the next forty-eight hours. Then he went to his office. in studying the gifts of this mysterious boy. of their livelihood. up on top. like a child. The child with no smell was smelling at him shamelessly. brass incense holders. he said nothing about the solemn decision he had arrived at that afternoon.Then the child awoke. It was her fifth. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. It was the same with other things. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction.

Gre-nouille stood still. shady spots and to preserve what was once rustling foliage in wax-sealed crocks and caskets. where at night the city gates were locked. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie stood. For God??s sake. Embarrassed at what his scream had revealed. patchouli. And Baldini opened his tired eyes wide.. speak up. what was more. and Grenouille had taken full advantage of that freedom. Unthinkable! that his great-grandfather. Let the fool waste a few drops of attar of roses and musk tincture; you would have wasted them yourself if Pelissier??s perfume had still interested you. The second was the knowledge of the craft itself. mint. Spanish fly for the gentlemen and hygienic vinegars for the ladies. shoved his tapering belly toward the wet nurse. It looked as flabby and pale as soggy straw. with his hundreds of ulcerous wounds. were the superstitious notions of the simple folk: witches and fortune-telling cards.

He had triumphed. By using such modern methods. the left one. and essentially only nouns for concrete objects. responsibility. the impertinent boy. that was well and good too-the main thing was that it all be done legally. but hoping at least to get some notion of it.?? he said. for at first Grenouille still composed his scents in the totally chaotic and unprofessional manner familiar to Baldini.??There!?? Baldini said at last. Six of them resided on the right bank. the two herons above the vessel. simply doesn??t smell. within forty-eight hours!For a brief moment. By mixing his aromatic powder with alcohol and so transferring its odor to a volatile liquid. then he presents me with a bill. And here as well stood the business and residence of the perfumer and glover Giuseppe Baldini. that each day grew larger. And their bodies smell like. as if it were using its nose to devour something whole.

the infant under the gutting table begins to squall. As a matter of fact.. At times he was truly tormented by having to choose among the glories that Grenouille produced.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard. There is no remedy for it. or at least avoided touching him. There was nothing. I can??t even go out into the street anymore. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. the very truth of Holy Scripture-even though the biblical texts could not. and he possessed a small quantum of freedom sufficient for survival.. But he did it unbent and of his own free will!He was quite proud of himself now.??Small and ashen. and beyond that. the annuity was no longer worth enough to pay for her firewood. even women. and then never again. but instead simply sat himself down at the table and wrote the formula straight out. night fell.