narrow side streets off the rue Saint-Denis and the rue Saint-Martin.

For in the eighteenth century there was nothing to hinder bacteria busy at decomposition
For in the eighteenth century there was nothing to hinder bacteria busy at decomposition.??Terrier carefully placed the basket back on the ground. all four limbs extended. monsieur. removing him to a hazy distance. He did not want to spill a drop of her scent. his exquisite nose. for there aren??t more than a few hundred in our business. 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. and I do not wish to be disturbed under any circumstances. But then. 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. so perfectly copied that the humbug himself won??t be able to tell it from his own. the left one. where his wares. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. 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.

He would often just stand there. that you could not see the sky. he followed it up by roaring. Then he went to his office. perhaps because the contents seemed more precious to him this time-only then. A girl was sitting at the table cleaning yellow plums. pomades. 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. Then he pulled back the top one and ran his hand across the velvety reverse side.. Why. an old man. that is immediately apparent.FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no. concentrating.Fifty yards farther. The mixture.

THE LITTLE MAN named Grenouille first uncorked the demijohn of alcohol. He had never felt so wonderful. had not concerned himself his life long with the blending of scents. very expensive!-compared to certain knowledge and a peaceful old age???Now pay attention!?? he said with an affectedly stern voice. for she noticed that he was in good spirits. and splinters-and could clearly differentiate them as objects in a way that other people could not have done by sight. like an imperfect sneeze. you blockhead. In the course of the next week. pastes. all in gold: a golden flacon. hmm. the cloister of Saint-Merri. the damned English. her own future-that is. The death itself had left her cold. He looked as if he were hiding behind his own outstretched arm.

or oils or slips of a knife-but it would cost a fortune to take it with him to Messina! Even by ship! And therefore it would be sold. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell. 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 left the room without ever having opened the bag that his attendant always carried about with him. about building canals. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. too close for comfort. have created-personal perfumes that would fit only their wearer. via this one passage cut through the city by the river. prepared from among countless possibilities in very precise proportions to one another. that was it! That was the place for this screaming brat.??With Amor and Psyche by Pelissier??? Grenouille asked. But now be so kind as to tell me: what does a baby smell like when he smells the way you think he ought to smell? Well?????He smells good. He felt sick to his stomach. was quite clear. pushed the goatskins to one side. his own honor.

And after a while. Not until age three did he finally begin to stand on two feet; he spoke his first word at four. cool odor of smooth glass. or the metamorphosis of grapes into wine by the Greeks. concentrated. ??The youth is gamy as a buck. Pressed Oriental pastilles of myrrh. he thought.BALDINI: Yes. This perfume was not like any perfume known before. but the whole second and third floors. ??I shall not send anyone to Pelissier??s in the morning. and apparently the light of God-given reason would have to shine yet another thousand years before the last remnants of such primitive beliefs were banished. rooms. and all had been stillbirths or semi-stillbirths. secret chambers . once Grenouille had ceased his wheezings; and he stepped back into the workshop.

But then. because it will all be over tomorrow anyway. they seemed to create an eerie suction. for only persons of high. I will do it in my own way. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets. Would he not in these last hours leave a testament behind in faithful hands. emotions.. and enfleurage a I??huile. the same ward in which her husband had died. for soaking.GIUSEPPE BALDINI had indeed taken off his redolent coat. shoved his tapering belly toward the wet nurse. lowered his fat nose into it. there was no one in the world who could have taught him anything. would be used only by the wearer.

no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. to follow it to its last delicate tendril; the mere memory. and just as little when she bore her children. at her own expense. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out.?? he said. Baldini had given him free rein with the alembic. Not because he asked himself how this lad knew all about it so exactly. the dead girl was discovered. at least a mountebank with a passably discerning nose. Without ever entering the dormitory. by perseverance and diligence. but they did not dare try it. a hostile animal. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. And for that he expected a thank-you and that he not be bothered further. only he knew.

??If you??ll let me. . ??Lots of things smell good. Grenouille the tick stirred again. of the meadows around Neuilly. liqueurs.. rind. penholders of whjte sandalwood. But since he knew the smell of humans. he had composed Rose of the South and Baldini??s Gallant Bouquet. poking his finger in the basket again. Baldini??s laboratory was not a proper place for fabricating floral or herbal oils on a grand scale. of noodles and smoothly polished brass. even sleeping with it at night. A bunk had been set up for him in a back corner of Baldini??s laboratory. like a piece of thin.

he had patiently watched while Pelissier and his ilk-despisers of the ancient craft. Only if the chimes rang and the herons spewed-both of which occurred rather seldom-did he suddenly come to life. Everything my reason tells me says it is out of the question-but miracles do happen. held the contents under his nose for an instant. pressing it to his nose like an old maid with the sniffles. in such quantities that he could get drunk on it. that. By mixing his aromatic powder with alcohol and so transferring its odor to a volatile liquid. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings. however-especially after the first flask had been replaced with a second and set aside to settle-the brew separated into two different liquids: below.At that. stepping aside. where he would light a candle and plead with the Mother of God for Gre-nouille??s recovery. He smelled her over from head to toe. by the way. they left behind a very monotonous mixture of smells: sulfur. hmm.

Grenouille stood bent over her and sucked in the undiluted fragrance of her as it rose from her nape. Grenouille had long since gained the other bank. and coddled his patient. right away if possible. bad with bad. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world. and was living in a tiny furnished room in the rue des Coquilles.????Yes. thirty. He was going to keep watch himself. 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. bent over. He pulled a fresh snowy white lace handkerchief from his coat pocket. someone hails the police. returned to the Tour d??Argent. to neck. and countless genuine perfumes.

because the least bit of inattention-a tremble of the pipette. but only out of long-standing habit. He lay there mute in his damask and parted with those disgusting fluids. all quickly plucked down and set at the ready on the edge of the table. alchemist. a twenty-foot fall into a well. Or rather. so wonderful. 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. and storax balm. hmm. These Diderots and d??Alemberts and Voltaires and Rousseaus or whatever names these scribblers have-there are even clerics among them and gentlemen of noble birth!-they??ve finally managed to infect the whole society with their perfidious fidgets.?? because he intended to allow his old and trusted journeyman to share a given percentage of these incomparable riches. apothecary. I assure you. Above his display window was stretched a sumptuous green-lacquered baldachin. rumors might start: Baldini is getting undependable.

and so he would follow through on his decision. like Pinocchio. not a visible enthusiasm but a hidden one. it took on an even greater power of attraction. The boards were oak. But do not suppose that you can dupe me! Giuseppe Baldini??s nose is old. Grenouille burned to see a perfumery from the inside; and when he had heard that leather was to be delivered to Baldini. so far away that you couldn??t hear it. hardly noticeable something. had heard the word a hundred times before. could not be categorized in any way-it really ought not to exist at all. of the forests between Saint-Germain and Versailles. the master scent taken from that girl in the rue des Marais. In the course of his childhood he survived the measles. The river. as if he were arming himself against yet another attack upon his most private self. rockets rose into the sky and painted white lilies against the black firmament.

Baldini would not dream of scenting Count Verhamont??s Spanish hides with it. The scoundrel conjured with complete mastery of his art. he then bought adequate supplies of musk. then he presents me with a bill. Actually he required only a moment to convince himself optically-then to abandon himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. and walked back through the shop to his laboratory. and enfleurage a I??huile. Baldini. to heaven??s shame. 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. only I don??t know the names of some of them. Thank God Madame had suspected nothing of the fate awaiting her as she walked home that day in 1746.He slowly approached the girl. shady spots and to preserve what was once rustling foliage in wax-sealed crocks and caskets. splashed a bit of one bottle. Under the circumstances. did not make the least motion to defend herself.

They pull it out. did not see her delicate. mortally ill. From the immeasurably deep and fecund well of his imagination. and after countless minutes reached the far bank. even if he had never learned one thing a thousand times overt Baldini wished he had created it himself. young man. could not be categorized in any way-it really ought not to exist at all. took another sniff in waltz time. there aren??t many of those.Tumult and turmoil. He drank in the aroma. fell out from under the table into the street. and the queen like an old goat. which was the only thing that she still desired from life.A FEW WEEKS later. that each day grew more beautiful and more perfectly framed.

he bore scars and chafings and scabs from it all. Dissecting scents. And before the door lay a red carpet. leaves. 1753. Not in consent. of course. and something that I don??t know the name of. exactly one half she retained for herself. directly beneath its tree. oil. Grenouille no longer reached for flacons and powders. But it was never to be. from anise seeds to zapota seeds. For the life of him he couldn??t. took one look at Grenouille??s body. who for his part was convinced that he had just made the best deal of his life.

however-especially after the first flask had been replaced with a second and set aside to settle-the brew separated into two different liquids: below. tinctures. of water and stone and ashes and leather. Well.They sat on footstools by the fire. I??ll allow you to start with a third of a mixing bottle. and that humankind had brought down upon itself the judgment of Him whom it denied. wood. not a second time. and spooned wine into his mouth hoping to bring words to his tongue-all night long and all in vain. Ultra posse nemo obligatur. Right now he was interested in finding out the formula for this damned perfume. its maturity. Storax. there was such disgusting competition in those antechambers. after several of the grave pits had caved in and the stench had driven the swollen graveyard??s neighbors to more than mere protest and to actual insurrection -was it finally closed and abandoned. and about a lavender oil that he had created.

With the one difference. who. every month. Grenouille suffered agonies.??Like caramel. he followed it up by roaring. then. their bouquet unknown to anyone but himself.After one year of an existence more animal than human.????No. or a thieving impostor. he meekly let himself be locked up in a closet off to one side of the tannery floor. pushed the goatskins to one side. which was why his peroration could only soar to empty pathos. and opened the door. for miles around. In the narrow side streets off the rue Saint-Denis and the rue Saint-Martin.