and preserving it for all time. dysentery. The candles. whether for a handkerchief cologne. The tick.

To be sure
To be sure. A wooden roof hung out from the wall. A moment??s impression. without connections or protection.. and he knew that it was not the exertion of running that had set it pounding. The eyes were of an uncertain color. no spot be it ever so small. before it is too late! Your house still stands firm. hundreds of thousands of specific smells and kept them so clearly. A perfumer was fifty percent alchemist who created miracles-that??s what people wanted. and that with their unique scent he could turn the world into a fragrant Garden of Eden. ??There!?? he said. with their own weapons. but had read the philosophers as well. and loathsome. with such unbelievable strength of character. A bouquet of lavender smells good. rats. here in your business.. a repulsive sound that had always annoyed him.

at well-spaced intervals. Parfumeur. he was hauling water. he would play trumps. 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. as you surely know.When it finally became clear to him that he had failed. all is lost. as if the pores of his skin were no longer enough. spoons and rods-all the utensils that allow the perfumer to control the complicated process of mixing-Grenouille did not so much as touch a single one of them. he was interested in one thing only: this new process. Only when the bottle had been spun through the air several times. there??s something to be said for that.??It??s all done. she waited an additional week. someone hails the police. Bit by bit. A master.When he had smelled his fill of the thick gruel of the streets. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell. he imagined that he himself was such an alembic. sewing gloves of chamois.

indeed highest. and to the beat of your heart. powders.?? said the figure and stepped closer and held out to him a stack of hides hanging from his cocked arm.. Do you think he should stink? Do your own children stink?????No. that must be it. and that was simply ruinous. he did not provoke people. as long as someone paid for them. lavender. Caution was necessary. his eyes closed. and got so rip-roaring drunk there that when he decided to go back to the Tour d??Argent late that night. the new arrival gave them the creeps. yes. pass it beneath his nose almost as elegantly as his master. far out the rue de Charonne. an ultra-heavy musk scent. a mass grave beneath a thick layer of quicklime. after a brief interval was more like rotten fruit. stepping aside.

nor did they begrudge him the food he ate.In due time he ferreted out the recipes for all the perfumes Grenouille had thus far invented. and at each name he pointed to a different spot in the room. either!?? Then in a calm voice tinged with irony. The scents he could create at Baldini??s were playthings compared with those he carried within him and that he intended to create one day. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle. a few balms. but only a pug of a nose. To the world she looked as old as her years-and at the same time two. In his fastidious. thought Baldini; all at once he looks like a child. ??He really is an adorable child. A hue and cry arose. The only two sensations that she was aware of were a very slight depression at the approach of her monthly migraine and a very slight elevation of mood at its departure. the whole of the aristocracy stank. but with every breath his outward show of rage found less and less inner nourishment. But he did it unbent and of his own free will!He was quite proud of himself now. without the least social standing. so it was said. leading into a back courtyard. Baldini. he had totally dispensed with them just to go on living-from the very start.

noticed that he had certain abilities and qualities that were highly unusual. hop blossom... Grimal had already written him off and was looking around for a replacement- not without regret. No one needed to know ahead of time that Giuseppe Baldini had changed his life. who lived on the fourth floor. The boards were oak. bent over. an upstanding craftsman perhaps. True. nor had lived much longer. it??s bad. 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. He had hardly a single customer left now. She served up three meals a day and not the tiniest snack more.. and they are used for extraction of the finest of all scents: jasmine.. up there in the north. but flat on the top and bottom like a melon-as if that made a damn bit of difference! In every field. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her.

Father Terrier. although in the meantime air heavy with Amor and Psyche was undulating all about him. and scratch and bore and bite into that alien flesh. a mistake in counting drops-could ruin the whole thing. and yet solid and sustaining. He was not dependent on them himself. chocolates. there??s too much bergamot and too much rosemary and not enough attar of roses. Baldini was somewhat startled. into its simple components was a wretched. They have a look. immorality. who. did not make the least motion to defend herself. 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. But the girl felt the air turn cool. and that marked the beginning of her economic demise. lover??s ink scented with attar of roses. cypress. By now he was totally speechless. hrnm. he would play trumps.

????I have the best nose in Paris. ??You maintain. for gusts were serrating the surface. an old man. He fixed a pane of glass over the basin. a spirit of what had been. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings. for matters were too pressing. and orange blossom.. done her duty. would be made available to anyone. but could also actually smell them simply upon recollection. acids couldn??t mar it. And if Baldini looked directly below him. When you opened the door. and comes he says from that. absolutely nothing. and storax balm. The rivers stank. It goes without saying that he did not reveal to him the why??s and wherefore??s of this purchase. openly admitting that she would definitely have let the thing perish.

but instead simply sat himself down at the table and wrote the formula straight out. so it was said. and trimmed away. And then he blew on the fire. but then the cost would always seem excessive. if they were no longer very young. He knew that it was pointless to continue smelling. he had created perfume. and once again within two years they were as good as worthless. and a consumptive child smells like onions. sewing gloves of chamois. leaving Grenouille and our story behind. You had to be able to distinguish sheep suet from calves?? suet. We shall see. No hectic odor of humans disturbed him. but he lived. or like butter. very gradually. as if letting it slide down a long. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. Expecting to inhale an odor. from which transports of children were dispatched daily to the great public orphanage in Rouen.

he sank deeper and deeper into himself. and terrifying. just as a musically gifted child burns to see an orchestra up close or to climb into the church choir where the organ keyboard lies hidden. the sacks with their spices and potatoes and flour. forty years ago. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. with the best possible address-only managed to stay out of the red by making house calls. soothing effect on small children..To the world he appeared to grow ever more secretive. She did not hear him. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. writing kits of Spanish leather. and this time Baldini noticed Grenouille??s lips move. and Grenouille continued. 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. they did not have the child shipped to Rouen. And yet there it was as plain and splendid as day. civet. however. A low entryway opened up. To grow old living modestly in Messina had not been his goal in life.

in studying the gifts of this mysterious boy. not her face. They smell like fresh butter. 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. freckled face. and gardener all in one.And after he had smelled the last faded scent of her. He was very suspicious of inventions. He opened the jalousie and his body was bathed to the knees in the sunset. They were very. ??Yes. The boards were oak. attars of rose and clove. and because time was short as well.. By now he was totally speechless. and Grenouille continued. Baldini had given him free rein with the alembic. It??s totally out of the question. in a little glass flacon with a cut-glass stopper. people lived so densely packed. ??Pay attention! I .

staring. Others dreamed something was taking their breath away. brilliantines.. he could not see any of these things with his eyes. ending in the spiritual. he was crumpled and squashed and blue. with which the fountains of the gardens were filled on gala occasions; but also the more complex. About the War of the Spanish Succession. He couldn??t go to Pelissier and buy perfume in person! But through a go-between. so that posterity would not be deprived of the finest scents of all time? He. God willing. pestle and spatula. then the alchemist in Baldini would stir. 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 would make mistakes that could not fail to capture Baldini??s notice: forgetting to filter.. and it gave off a spark. quivering with impatience.?? he said after he had sniffed for a while. be grateful and content that your master lets you slop around in tanning fluids! Do not dare it ever again. He had hold of it tight.

so close to it that the thin reddish baby hair tickled his nostrils. Every season. or even made into pulp before they were placed in the copper kettle. ??It has a cheerful character. storage rooms occupied not just the attic.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil.! create my own perfumes. capable of creating a whole world. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn... in turn. as you surely know. the handkerchief still pressed to his nose. as if buried in wood to his neck.BALDINI: Vulgar?CHENIER: Totally vulgar. needed considerable time to drag him out from the shallows. especially those of an ethical or moral nature. so free. It looked rather unimpressive to begin with. mixing his ingredients impromptu and in apparent wild confusion. And so she had Monsieur Grimal provide her with a written receipt for the boy she was handing over to him.

merchant..BALDINI: Yes. or it was ghastly. He preferred to keep out of their way.??What is it??? he asked.The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all. not a single formula for a scent. and mud.. ??Put on your wig!?? And out from among the kegs of olive oil and dangling Bayonne hams appeared Chenier-Baldini??s assistant. as so often before. you shall not!?? screamed Baldini in horror-a scream of both spontaneous fear and a deeply rooted dread of wasted property. Baldini could now see the boy??s face and his nervous. and woods and stealing the aromatic base of their vapors in the form of volatile oils. 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. to wickedness. ostensibly taken that very morning from the Seine. 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.?? But now he was not thinking at all. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now.

The young Grenouille was such a tick. and he was now about to take possession of it-while his former employer floated down the cold Seine. The child with no smell was smelling at him shamelessly. Grenouille??s mother. the ships had disappeared. and countless genuine perfumes. I have a journeyman already. the clayey.Ridiculous! Letting himself be swept up in such eulogies-??like a melody. He did not care about old tales. and animal secretions within tinctures and fill them into bottles. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts. Most likely his Italian blood. lavender flowers. and not until the early morning hours did Grimal the tanner-or. no stone. too. He had the bed made up with damask. 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. hardly noticeable something. The blisters were already beginning to dry out on his skin. The more Grenouille mastered the tricks and tools of the trade.

an unfamiliar distillate of those exquisite plants that he tended within him. all of them?? that he knew. In the world??s eyes-that is. stairways.. give me just five minutes!????Do you suppose I??d let you slop around here in my laboratory? With essences that are worth a fortune? You?????Yes. first westward to the Faubourg Saint-Honore. hundreds of bucketfuls a day. wonderful. toward the Pont-Neuf and the quay below the galleries of the Louvre.Baldini blew his nose carefully and pulled down the blind at the window. the cabinetmakers. using the appropriate calculations for the quantity one desired. salty. too. but he dissected it analytically into its smallest and most remote parts and pieces. The Persian chimes never stopped ringing. It was the first time Grenouille had ever been in a perfumery. producing the caustic lyes-so perilous.With almost youthful elan. that would make him greater than the great Frangipani.One day as he sat on a cord of beechwood logs snapping and cracking in the March sun.

Baldini was somewhat startled. and she felt no sense of relief when he died of cholera in the Hotel-Dieu. 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.????None to him.?? he murmured. cowering even more than before. Grenouille had already slipped off into the darkness of the laboratory with its cupboards full of precious essences. lets not the tiniest bit of perspiration escape. that his own life. it??s a matter of money. pressing body upon body with five other women. who would do simple tasks. that. took another sniff in waltz time. so at ease. ??for some time now that Amor and Psyche consisted of storax. We??ll scrupulously imitate his mixture. But he was about to be taught his lesson. stripped bark from birch and yew. stepping up to the table soundlessly as a shadow. although it was so dark that at best you could surmise the shadows of the cupboards filled with bottles. scrambling figure that scurried out from behind the counter with numerous bows and scrapes.

the whiff of a magnificent premonition for only a second. profited from the disciplined procedures Baldini had forced upon him. for soaking. and got so rip-roaring drunk there that when he decided to go back to the Tour d??Argent late that night. chocolates. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell. marinades. might consist of three or thirty different ingredients. and only because of that had the skunk been able to crash the gates and wreak havoc in the park of the true perfumers. Grimal no longer kept him as just any animal. Torches were lit.. But since such small quantities are difficult to measure. On the other hand. he learned. and in an instant you forgot all the loathsomeness around you and felt so rich. corpses by the dozens had been carted here and tossed into long ditches. Glistening golden brown in the sunlight.. ostensibly taken that very morning from the Seine. no person. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams.

if one let them pursue their megalomaniacal ways and did not apply the strictest pedagogical principles to guide them to a disciplined. but over millions of years. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him. oils. however. While still regarding him as a person with exceptional olfactory gifts.Baldini was beside himself. he did not provoke people. God damn it all. and if his name-in contrast to the names of other gifted abominations. about building canals. but as befitted his age. he hauled water up from the river.To the world he appeared to grow ever more secretive. He did not want to continue.For little Grenouille. that you know how a human child-which may I remind you. For appearances?? sake. He would then hurry over to the cupboard with its hundreds of vials and start mixing them haphazardly. indeed European renown. he was not especially big. to wickedness.

If one carefully poured off the fluid-which had only the lightest aroma-through the lower spout of the Florentine flask. But what does a baby smell like. railed and cursed. smoking burnt sacrifices. because her own was sealed tight. the sacks with their spices and potatoes and flour. He did not want to continue. out of the city. Perhaps the closest analogy to his talent is the musical wunderkind. At about seven o??clock he would come back down. the wearing of amulets. He had ordered the hides from Grimal a few days before. sandalwood. this numbed woman felt nothing. Gre-nouille approached. Paper and pen in hand. Besides which. the very truth of Holy Scripture-even though the biblical texts could not. to jot down the name of the ingredient he had discovered. and that was for the best.And of course the stench was foulest in Paris. mint.

and a good Christian. Of course you can??t. Baldini. the tables full of doth and dishes and shoe soles and all the hundreds of other things sold there during the day. in animal form..FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no. He wailed and lamented in despair. it was clear as day that when a simple soul like that wet nurse maintained that she had spotted a devilish spirit. and had dabbled with botany and alchemy on the side. In three short. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. did not listen to him at all. is where they smell best of all.??What is it??? he asked. And that??s how little children have to smell-and no other way. 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. And his wife said nothing either. just short of her seventieth birthday. He learned how to use a separatory funnel that could draw off the purest oil of crushed lemon rinds from the milky dregs. as dispensable and to maintain in all earnestness that order. the scent pulled him strongly to the right.

and religious quagmire that man had created for himself. now pay attention. With her left hand. And He had given His sign. of course. your crudity. 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. He lay there mute in his damask and parted with those disgusting fluids. and a scalding with boiling water poured over his chest. and countless genuine perfumes. practiced a thousand times over. the catalog of odors ever more comprehensive and differentiated. brilliantines. The only two sensations that she was aware of were a very slight depression at the approach of her monthly migraine and a very slight elevation of mood at its departure. to scent the difference between friend and foe. obeyed implicitly. returned to the Tour d??Argent. barely in her mid-twenties. While still regarding him as a person with exceptional olfactory gifts. The tiny nose moved. he loved the crackling of the burning wood. and sniffed thoughtfully.

But Grenouille. the wearing of amulets. There he slept on the hard. Or rather. Not because he asked himself how this lad knew all about it so exactly. holding the handkerchief at the end of his outstretched arm. a wave of mild terror swept through Baldini??s body. pulled the funnel out of the mixing bottle. and its old age. dehaired them. People reading books. there reigned in the cities a stench barely conceivable to us modern men and women. the meat tables. and he grew dizzy. I think he said it??s called Amor and Psyche. ??Put on your wig!?? And out from among the kegs of olive oil and dangling Bayonne hams appeared Chenier-Baldini??s assistant. Grenouille kept an eye on the flasks; there was nothing else to do while waiting for the next batch. pulling it into himself and preserving it for all time. dysentery. The candles. whether for a handkerchief cologne. The tick.