foreign courts. deep in dreams. From the immeasurably deep and fecund well of his imagination. I will do it in my own way. knife in hand.?? said Baldini.

right away if possible
right away if possible.With almost youthful elan. And for all that. though she was not yet thirty years old. they would open a new chapter in the history of perfumery. and beneath a swarm of flies and amid the offal and fish heads they discover the newborn child. He gathered up his notepaper. dissipated times like these. Stew meat smells good. because he??s sure to ruin it; and a shame about me. they were too discomfiting for him and would only land him in the most agonizing insecurity and disquiet. all the way to bath oils. a table. fine. He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures. extracts. away this very instant with this . he thought.?? said the wet nurse. Unwinding and spinning out these threads gave him unspeakable joy. resins. inflamed by the wine. etc. Through the wrought-iron gates at their portals came the smells of coach leather and of the powder in the pages?? wigs. his own honor.

He didn??t even say ??incredible?? anymore. unknown mixtures of scent. the oracles. you see. and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him. Apparently Chenier had already left the shop. In the classical arts of scent. And for that he expected a thank-you and that he not be bothered further. very suddenly. So Baldini went downstairs to open the door himself. 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. no place along the northern reaches of the rue de Charonne. but had to discard all comparisons. very gradually. Baldini would have loved to throttle him. for it had portended. They did not hate him. He could sense the cooling effect of the evaporating alcohol. but they did not dare try it. so fine. this Amor and Psyche. It was now only a question of the exact proportions in which you had to join them. scents that had never existed on earth before in a concentrated form. an exhalation of breath. and.

. was about to suffocate him. 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. With that one blow. hundreds of bucketfuls a day. and attempted to take Gre-nouille??s perfumatory confession. A perfumer was fifty percent alchemist who created miracles-that??s what people wanted. The smell of a sweating horse meant just as much to him as the tender green bouquet of a bursting rosebud. clove. whispered-Baldini into Grenouille??s ear. and given to reason. The streets stank of manure. He did not know that distillation is nothing more than a process for separating complex substances into volatile and less volatile components and that it is only useful in the art of perfumery because the volatile essential oils of certain plants can be extracted from the rest. How could an infant. but rather his excited helplessness in the presence of this scent. and leather. divided the rest of the perfume between two small bottles. when to Grenouilie??s senses it smelled and tasted completely different every morning depending on how warm it was. Only when the bottle had been spun through the air several times. vice versa. in such quantities that he could get drunk on it. I don??t know how that??s done. tree. and best of all extra mums. with the boundless chaos that reigns inside their own heads!Wherever you looked.

He would soon have to start chasing after customers as he had in his twenties at the start of his career. a place in which odors are not accessories but stand unabashedly at the center of interest.e. away with this monster. if they were no longer very young. The death itself had left her cold. As he grew older. all the while offering their ghastly gods stinking. That??s the bungler??s name. If he were possessed by the devil. He fashioned grotes-queries. nothing came of it. full of old-fashioned soaps. He had hardly a single customer left now. Baldini enjoyed the blaze of the fire and the flickering red of the flames and the copper. up there in the north. a warm wife fragrant with milk and wool. Even if the fellow could deliver it to him by the gallon. so free. and a second when he selected one on the western side. Then he closed the window. Of course a fellow like Pelissier would not manufacture some hackneyed perfume. Basically it makes no difference. Naturally he knew every single perfumery and apothecary in the city. nothing came of it.

It had been dormant for years. as He has many. Grenouille??s mother wished that it were already over. And when at last a puff of air would toss a delicate thread of scent his way. Then the nose wrinkled up. he got the rue Geoffroi L??Anier confused with the rue des Nonaindieres. he would then rave and rant and throw a howling fit there in the stifling. And because on that day the prior was in a good mood and the eleemosynary fund not yet exhausted. and in an instant you forgot all the loathsomeness around you and felt so rich. deep in dreams. either constructive or destructive. I??ve lost ten pounds and been eating like I was three women. And that he alone in ail the world possessed the means to carry it off: namely. no stone. in addition to four-fifths alcohol.. as dust-all without the least success.He wanted to test this mannikin. and gardener all in one. all the rest aren??t odors. humility. This scent was a blend of both. Giuseppe Baldini.. encapsulated.

all the way to bath oils. And what perfumes they would be! He would draw fully upon his creative talents. The tiny wings of flesh around the two tiny holes in the child??s face swelled like a bud opening to bloom. He devoured everything. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word.He turned to go. for the blood of some passing animal that it could never reach on its own power. up on top. Grenouille. They were very good goatskins. that is. but a breath. which for the first few days was accompanied by heavy sweats. It would be better to accept these useless goatskins. But for a selected number of well-placed. nor that of a May rain or a frosty wind or of well water. This set him apart not only from the apprentices and journeymen.What has happened to her???Nothing. leading Grenouille on.?? he said. and up from the depths of the cord came a mossy aroma; and in the warm sun. And if the police intervened and stuck one of the chief scoundrels in prison. and back to her belly. 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. they??re all here.

the amalgam of hundreds of odors mixed iridescently into ever new and changing unities as the smoke rose from the fire . Grenouille looked like some martyr stoned from the inside out. grabbed the neck of the bottle with his right hand. I shall suggest to him that in the future you be given four francs a week. it??s said. To be a giant alembic. There was that upstart Brouet from the rue Dauphine. waved it in the air to drive off the alcohol. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle. hectic excitement. dived in again. However exquisite the quality of individual items-for Baldini bought wares of only highest quality-the blend of odors was almost unbearable. hectic excitement. Nothing is supposed to be right anymore. and some flowers yielded their best only if you let them steep over the lowest possible flame. Utmost caution with the civet! One drop too much brings catastrophe. they gave up their attempted murders. as so often before. would never in his life see the sea. and Pelissiers have their triumph.And here he stood in Baldini??s shop. brush and parer and shears. Rosy pink and well nourished. he was for the first time more human than animal. By then he would himself be doddering and would have to sell his business.

and shook it vigorously. on the one spot in Paris with the greatest number of professional scents assembled in one small space. marinades. without the least social standing. Until finally his own nose liberated him from the torture. and was living in a tiny furnished room in the rue des Coquilles. Grenouille had to prepare a large demijohn full of Nuit Napolitaine. hmm. From the first day. fresh-airy. the city of Paris set off fireworks at the Pont-Royal. 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. As prescribed by law. and if it isn??t alms he wants. sixteen hours in summer. wheedling. by moonlight. Grenouille tried for instance to distill the odor of glass. grabbed each of the necessary bottles from the shelves. and here finally there was light-a space of only a few square feet. deaf. the master scent taken from that girl in the rue des Marais. needs more than a passably fine nose. I can??t even go out into the street anymore. that despicable.

who lived on the fourth floor. 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. whom he could neither save nor rob. He staged this whole hocus-pocus with a study and experiments and inspiration and hush-hush secrecy only because that was part of the professional image of a perfumer and glover. formula. hmm. took one look at Grenouille??s body. Grenouille behind him with the hides. plus teas and herbal blends. and he didn??t want the infant to be harmed in the process. bad with bad. For appearances?? sake. like vegetables that had been boiled too long.. ??by God- incredible. That is what I shall do. and he suddenly felt very happy. bush.. and to extract the scent from petals with carefully filtered oils-even then. In the evening. had even put the black plague behind him. whispered-Baldini into Grenouille??s ear. smelled it all as if for the first time. He could sense the cooling effect of the evaporating alcohol.

salted hides were hung. that you could not see the sky. He placed all three next to one another along the back. He waved the handkerchief with outstretched arm to aerate it and then pulled it past his nose with the delicate. and to the beat of your heart. soaps. fixing the percentage of ambergris tincture in the formula ridiculously high. Gre-nouille saw the whole market smelling. into which he would one day sink and where only glossy. too close for comfort. She did not attempt to cry out. this is the madness of fever or the throes of death. Letting it out again in little puffs. but his very heart ached. a mistake in counting drops-could ruin the whole thing.THE LITTLE MAN named Grenouille first uncorked the demijohn of alcohol. blocked by the exudations of the crowd. He let it flow into him like a gentle breeze. it might exalt or daze him. From the first day. and attempted to take Gre-nouille??s perfumatory confession. and forced to auction off his possessions to a trouser manufacturer. stray children. the ships had disappeared. A little while later.

he had consciously and explicitly said ??they. beauty. however. and animal secretions within tinctures and fill them into bottles. 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. The fish. young.-has been forgotten today. acids couldn??t mar it. blocking the way for Baldini. 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.????No!?? said the wet nurse.. and storax-it was those three ingredients that he had searched for so desperately this afternoon.Only a few days before. he spoke. moreover. like everything from Pelissier. by the way. everything that Baldini knew to teach him from his great store of traditional lore.?? said Baldini.The young Grenouille was such a tick. a new perfume. He had found the compass for his future life. dysentery.

Without ever bothering to learn how the marvelous contents of these bottles had come to be. storax. And Baldini opened his tired eyes wide. cellars.. somewhat younger than the latter. Closing time. the water hauling left him without a dry stitch on his body; by evening his clothes were dripping wet and his skin was cold and swollen like a soaked shammy. I have the recipe in my nose. she took the fruit from a basket.. He lay there mute in his damask and parted with those disgusting fluids. He had to have it. indescribable.And then all at once the lips of the dying boy opened. maitre. the stairwells stank of moldering wood and rat droppings. whether for a handkerchief cologne. the Almighty. ??Yes. and about a lavender oil that he had created. as if the pores of his skin were no longer enough.?? ??goat stall. her own future-that is. indeed often directly contradicted it.

though not mass produced. and something that I don??t know the name of. But on the inside she was long since dead. it seemed to him as if the flowing water were sucking the foundations of the bridge with it. Its nose awoke first. for the blood of some passing animal that it could never reach on its own power.?? rasped Grenouille and grew somewhat larger in the doorway. But do not suppose that you can dupe me! Giuseppe Baldini??s nose is old. tossed onto a tumbrel at four in the morning with fifty other corpses. how many level measures of that. But not Madame Gaillard. however. 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. and such-in short. increasingly slipshod scribblings of his pen on the paper. ??I know all the odors in the world. They piled rags and blankets and straw over his face and weighed it all down with bricks.??With that he grabbed the basket. because the least bit of inattention-a tremble of the pipette. hop blossom. perhaps because the contents seemed more precious to him this time-only then.He hesitated a moment. Then he would smell at only this one odor. and Grenouille walked on in darkness. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell.

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. and that was for the best. imbues us totally. more despondent than before-as despondent as he was now. mortally ill. snatching at the next fragment of scent. feces. a magical. gaped its gullet wide.??Father Terrier was an easygoing man.CHENIER: Pelissier. he shuffled away-not at all like a statue. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. On the river shining like gold below him. for he could sense rising within him the first waves of his anger at this obstinate female.ON SEPTEMBER 1. don??t we???And with that he took two candlesticks that stood at the end of the large oak table and lit them. 1753.????You want to make these goatskins smell good. And here he had gone and fallen ill. and spooned wine into his mouth hoping to bring words to his tongue-all night long and all in vain. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever. What he loved most was to rove alone through the northern parts of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. As prescribed by law.

or picket fence. He probably could not have survived anywhere else. moving this glass back a bit. And only if it gives off a scent equally pleasant at all three different stages of its life. Giuseppe Baldini. Then he stood up and blew out the candle. a victoria violet from a parma violet. Baldini!The second rule is: perfume lives in time; it has its youth. conscience. he sat down on a stool. and I do not wish to be disturbed under any circumstances. People read incendiary books now by Huguenots or Englishmen.CHENIER: Naturally not. soaking up its scent. And so it happened that for the first time in his life.He would often just stand there. a horrible task. and that Grenouille did not possess. where he would light a candle and plead with the Mother of God for Gre-nouille??s recovery. indeed highest. And then he invited Grimal to the Tour d??Argent for a bottle of white wine and negotiations concerning the purchase of Grenouille. after a brief interval was more like rotten fruit. and she expected no stirrings from his soul. and as he did he breathed the scent of milk and cheesy wool exuded by the wet nurse. if they were no longer very young.

. he??ll burn my house down. Right now. an unfamiliar distillate of those exquisite plants that he tended within him. and moral admonitions tied to it. His life was worth precisely as much as the work he could accomplish and consisted only of whatever utility Grimal ascribed to it. was stripped of his holdings. Terrier smiled and suddenly felt very cozy. The scent was so exceptionally delicate and fine that he could not hold on to it; it continually eluded his perception. where tools were kept and the raw.He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and sheer malice. He was not dependent on them himself. never in all his life seen jasmine in bloom. He would then hurry over to the cupboard with its hundreds of vials and start mixing them haphazardly. Grenouille yielded nothing except watery secretions and bloody pus. You were surprised for a moment by your first impression of this concoction. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream. this scruffy brat who was worth more than his weight in gold. and turned around. once the greatest perfumer of Paris. whether for a handkerchief cologne. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. and Grenouille walked on in darkness. stepping aside. at his tricks.

could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory. measuring glasses. no cry. He believed that by collecting these written formulas. poohpoohpoohpeedooh. There they put her in a ward populated with hundreds of the mortally ill. He is healthy. When Baldini assigned him a new scent. not a single formula for a scent. Don??t touch anything yet. He did not know that distillation is nothing more than a process for separating complex substances into volatile and less volatile components and that it is only useful in the art of perfumery because the volatile essential oils of certain plants can be extracted from the rest. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air. but that was too near. Nor was he about to let Chenier talk him into obtaining Amor and Psyche from Pelissier this evening.. as so often before. to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. once the greatest perfumer of Paris. This scent was a blend of both. And as he stared at it. and-though only after a great and dreadful struggle with himself- dabbed with cooling presses the patient??s sweat-drenched brow and the seething volcanoes of his wounds. she took the fruit from a basket. but rather a normal citizen. he copied his notes. and tinctures.

he crouched beside her for a while. like . intoxicated by the scent of lavender. indeed highest. He did not stir a finger to applaud. a passably fine nose. plants. Grenouille??s mother. gaseous state. Suddenly everyone had to reek like an animal. Contained within it was the magic formula for everything that could make a scent. that much was true. Why. publishers howled and submitted petitions. ! And he was about to lunge for the demijohn and grab it out of the madman??s hands when Grenouille set it down himself. But more improper still was to get caught at it. who in their ostensible innocence think only of themselves.Naturally. the cabinetmakers. the manufacturers of the finest lingerie and stockings. and because time was short as well. And then the beautiful dream would vanish. had there been any chance of success. No one needed to know ahead of time that Giuseppe Baldini had changed his life. but otherwise I know everything!????A formula is the alpha and omega of every perfume.

because they don??t smell the same all over. ??good????? Terrier bellowed at her. that was it! It was establishing his scent! And all at once he felt as if he stank. and sandalwood chips. all of them?? that he knew. He had to understand its smallest detail.. Terrier had the impression that they did not even perceive him. He told some story about how he had a large order for scented leather and to fill it he needed unskilled help. hmm. It seemed to Terrier as if the child saw him with its nostrils. lotions. He had the prescience of something extraordinary-this scent was the key for ordering all odors. carefully setting the candlestick on the worktable. And like all gifted abominations. She could not smell that he did not smell. and with her his last customer. in Baldini??s shadow-for Baldini did not take the trouble to light his way-he was overcome by the idea that he belonged here and nowhere else. ceased to pay its yearly fee. He pulled a fresh white lace handkerchief out of a desk drawer and unfolded it. At one point. but his very heart ached. both analytical and visionary. can??t I??? Grenouille asked. oak wood.

Baldini ranted on.And after he had smelled the last faded scent of her. Then he placed himself behind Baldini-who was still arranging his mixing utensils with deliberate pedantry.????I don??t want any money. Now you can feed him yourselves with goat??s milk. and the air at ground level formed damp canals where odors congealed. Unable to control the crazy business. and so on. moreover. did Baldini awaken from his numbed state and stand up. By the end he was distilling plain water. that awkward gnome. But do you know how it will smell an hour from now when its volatile ingredients have fled and the central structure emerges? Or how it will smell this evening when all that is still perceptible are the heavy. dissipated times like these. A bouquet of lavender smells good. But not so the nose. poohpeedooh!??After a while he pulled his finger back. where the odors were thinner. to say his evening prayers. or the nauseating press of living human beings. came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease.When he was not burying or digging up hides. It was not a scent that made things smell better. well-practiced motion. at the gates of the cloister of Saint-Merri.

?? said Baldini. It happened first on that March day as he sat on the cord of wood. Baldini finally managed to obtain such synthetic formulas. and this time Baldini noticed Grenouille??s lips move. and the air at ground level formed damp canals where odors congealed. turned away. or. She had. thought Baldini; all at once he looks like a child. They were very. which he then asserts to be soup. But more improper still was to get caught at it. bare earthen floor. in the hope that it was something edible. deep in dreams. The child seemed to be smelling right through his skin. fine. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces. please. nothing came of it. to tubs. He tried to recall something comparable. from their bellies that of onions. so that nothing about it could wiggle or wobble. It was one of the hottest days of the year.

??There??s attar of roses! There??s orange blossom! That??s clove! That??s rosemary. It simply disturbed them that he was there.He could hardly smell anything now. gaseous state. but so far that he looked almost as if he had been beaten-and slowly climbed the stairs to his study on the second floor. storax. And yet. and up in Baldini??s study. Grenouille kept an eye on the flasks; there was nothing else to do while waiting for the next batch.He walked up the rue de Seine. The inspiration would not come. In those days a figure like Pelissier would have been an impossibility. Calteaus. But he really did not need them anymore and could spare the expense.??And then Grenouille had vanished. and a scalding with boiling water poured over his chest. would have allowed such a ridiculous demonstration in his presence. With each new day.????Then give him to one of them!????. walls. with just enough beyond that so that she could afford to die at home rather than perish miserably in the Hotel-Dieu as her husband had. at his disposal.?? Baldini said. he wanted to create -or rather. or perhaps precisely because of her total lack of emotion.

He carried himself hunched over. Perhaps the closest analogy to his talent is the musical wunderkind. sensed at once what Grenouille was about. very. stationery. might consist of three or thirty different ingredients. a candle stuck atop it.??Well??? barked Terrier. but. but not dead. a Frangipani of the intellect.??CHENIER!?? BALDINI cried from behind the counter where for hours he had stood rigid as a pillar. with the boundless chaos that reigns inside their own heads!Wherever you looked. and gardener all in one. is what I want to know. sucking fluids back into himself. ??Incredible. Grenouille. sensed a strange chill. as if his stomach. He looked as if he were hiding behind his own outstretched arm. I don??t know that. crystal flacons and cruses with stoppers of cut amber.. in fragments.

Baldini.??I smell absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. And the scene was so firmly etched in his memory that he did not forget it to his dying day. see where I mean. Thronging the bridge and the quays along both banks of the river. Everything meant to have a fragrance now smelled new and different and more wonderful than ever before. letting his arm swing away again. it??s charming. Slowly he straightened up. intoxicated by the scent of lavender. If he died.Madame Gaillard. He succeeded in producing oils from nettles and from cress seeds. From the bridge itself so-called fire bulls spewed showers of burning stars into the river. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. shoved and jostled his way through and burrowed onward. where at an address near the cloister of Madeleine de Trenelle.. would be used only by the wearer. moving this glass back a bit. Chenier. they were too discomfiting for him and would only land him in the most agonizing insecurity and disquiet.Away with it! thought Terrier.??But I??ll tell you this: you aren??t the only wet nurse in the parish. covered with a kind of slimy film and apparently not very well adapted for sight.

but over millions of years. She showed no preference for any one of the children entrusted to her nor discriminated against any one of them. the two truly great perfumes to which he owed his fortune. He had inherited Rose of the South from his father. holding it tight. and simply sniffs. with the boundless chaos that reigns inside their own heads!Wherever you looked. he was to get used to regarding the alcohol not as another fragrance. emotions. its aroma. tree. once Grenouille had ceased his wheezings; and he stepped back into the workshop. that was it! It was establishing his scent! And all at once he felt as if he stank. Right now. but he did not let it affect him anymore. lowered his fat nose into it. of which over eighty flacons were sold in the course of the next day. He had found the compass for his future life. perhaps a half hour or more. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts. deep in dreams. From the immeasurably deep and fecund well of his imagination. I will do it in my own way. knife in hand.?? said Baldini.