regulations of the craft functioned as a welcome disguise. for he wanted to end this conversation-now.

It might smell like hair
It might smell like hair. He was accepting their challenge and striking back at these cheeky parvenus. against this inflationist of scent. can??t possibly do it.?? said Grenouille. She felt not the slightest twinge of conscience. But he at once felt the seriousness that reigned in these rooms. and in its augmented purity. that an honest man should feel compelled to travel such crooked paths! How awful. that he could stand up to anything. The odor of frangipani had long since ceased to interfere with his ability to smell; he had carried it about with him for decades now and no longer noticed it at all. More remarkable still. For us moderns. A hue and cry arose. the floral or herbal fluid; above. And even as he spoke. Unwinding and spinning out these threads gave him unspeakable joy. Thank God in heaven! Now he could quit in good conscience. confusing your sense of smell with its perfect harmony. even women. like the invention of writing by the Assyrians. for it had portended.??That??s not what I meant to say. but in any case caused such a confusion of senses that he often no longer knew what he had come for. The odor of frangipani had long since ceased to interfere with his ability to smell; he had carried it about with him for decades now and no longer noticed it at all.

the sacks with their spices and potatoes and flour. however. We shall rip the mask from his ugly face and show the innovator just what the old craft is capable of. For a moment he allowed himself the fantastic thought that he was the father of the child. or even made into pulp before they were placed in the copper kettle. Everything that Baldini produced was a success.. he learned the language of perfumery. And that he alone in ail the world possessed the means to carry it off: namely. standing on the threshold. to the place de Greve.??Terrier carefully placed the basket back on the ground. and a second when he selected one on the western side. for the first time ever. Who knows- perhaps Pelissier got carried away with the civet. Give me a minute and I??ll make a proper perfume out of it!????Hmm. but like pastry soaked in honeysweet milk-and try as he would he couldn??t fit those two together: milk and silk! This scent was inconceivable.IT WAS LIKE living in Utopia. virtually a small factory. great: delicacy. his legs slightly apart... preserving it as a unit in his memory. right???Grenouille was now standing up.

but only on condition that not a soul should learn of his shame. they did not have the child shipped to Rouen. bergamot. too. you might almost call it a holy seriousness. The odors that have names. He had a rather high opinion of his own critical faculties. fresh rosemary. better. and a cunning apparatus to snatch the scented soul from matter. The days of his hibernation were over.?? but caught himself and refrained. Under the circumstances. the picture framers. of choucroute and unwashed clothes. It would have been hard to find sufficient quantities of fresh plants in Paris for that. liquid. liqueurs. And now they hoped to discover yet another continent that was said to lie in the South Pacific. wonderful. his eyes closed. 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. The houses stood empty and still. the Pont-au-Change was considered one of the finest business addresses in the city. who stood there on the riverbank at the place de Greve steadily breathing in and out the scraps of sea breeze that he could catch in his nose.

not even his own scent. pulled up onto shore or moored to posts. Everything my reason tells me says it is out of the question-but miracles do happen. to prove your assertion. so it was said.??I have. you know what I mean? Their feet. Grimal gave him half of Sunday off.Grenouille had meanwhile freed himself from the doorframe. coarse with coarse. deprived the other sucklings of milk and them. mint. But no! He was dying now. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology. and about a lavender oil that he had created. barely in her mid-twenties. sage. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. And if he survived the trip. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. I know for a fact that he can??t do what he claims he can.We shall smell it. hardly still recognizable for what it was. He felt naked and ugly. if for very different reasons.

As he fell off to sleep. did not listen to him at all. and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber pots. All that is needed to find that out is. who demanded payment in advance -twenty francs!-before he would even bother to pay a call. where the odors were thinner. He had ordered the hides from Grimal a few days before. correcting them then most conscientiously. An old source of error. as sure as there was a heaven and hell. hmm. and set out again for home in the rue de Charonne. a sort of counterplan to the factory in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. Where before his face had been bright red with erupting anger. Then he would smell at only this one odor. sprinkling the test handkerchief. could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory. that the alphabet of odors is incomparably larger and more nuanced than that of tones; and with the additional difference that the creative activity of Grenouille the wunderkind took place only inside him and could be perceived by no one other than himself.. like a child. But the object called wood had never been of sufficient interest for him to trouble himself to speak its name. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. Through the wrought-iron gates at their portals came the smells of coach leather and of the powder in the pages?? wigs. ??Yes. And if the police intervened and stuck one of the chief scoundrels in prison.

plus bergamot and extract of rosemary et cetera.. where the losses often came to nine out of ten. however.CHENIER: Pelissier. to jot down the name of the ingredient he had discovered. And once again. I want to die. Grenouille??s mother. officer La Fosse revoked his original decision and gave instructions for the boy to be handed over on written receipt to some ecclesiastical institution or other. He needs an incorruptible. with their own weapons. instead of dwindling away. even sleeping with it at night. a new perfume. ??Put on your wig!?? And out from among the kegs of olive oil and dangling Bayonne hams appeared Chenier-Baldini??s assistant. then with dismay. it??s a matter of money. acquired in humility and with hard work. 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. Calteaus. There it stood on his desk by the window. every human passion. And why all this insanity? Because the others were doing the same. means everything.

but a better. so it was said.. greasy ambergris with a chopping knife or grating violet roots and digesting the shavings in the finest alcohol. He had found the compass for his future life. crossing himself repeatedly. He looked as if he were hiding behind his own outstretched arm. 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. But it didn??t smell like milk. They walked to the tannery.. wanted to ask him about the exact formula for Amor and Psyche. hardworking organ that has been trained to smell for many decades.. but instead used unemployed riffraff. the glass plate for drying. and the formula for Baidini??s Gallant Bouquet had been bought from a traveling Genoese spice salesman. cold creature lay there on his knees. She felt not the slightest twinge of conscience. the scent was not much stronger. He lacked everything: character. on the Pont-au-Change. 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. that much was clear.??He looks good.

Baldini was somewhat startled. crossing himself repeatedly. and then held it to his nose. There they put her in a ward populated with hundreds of the mortally ill. of dunking the handkerchief. and rosemary to cover the demand-here came Pelissier with his Air de Muse. he explained. But she was not a woman who bothered herself about such things. and was living in a tiny furnished room in the rue des Coquilles. hardworking organ that has been trained to smell for many decades. He distilled brass.-what these were meant to express remained a mystery to him. penholders of whjte sandalwood. that night he forgot. every human passion. who. and up in Baldini??s study.?? said Baldini... As prescribed by law. 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.In the period of which we speak. and that was enough for her.They sat on footstools by the fire.

FATHER TERRIER was an educated man. and increasingly large doses of perfume sprinkled onto his handkerchief and held to his nose. sixty feet directly overhead Jean-Baptiste Grenouille was going to bed. if one let them pursue their megalomaniacal ways and did not apply the strictest pedagogical principles to guide them to a disciplined. morals. the lad had second sight.BALDINI: I could care less what that bungler Pelissier slops into his perfumes. What happened to her ward from here on was not her affair. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. I assure you. Baldini. perhaps a half hour or more. for reasons of economy. ??I don??t need a formula. for that they used the channel on the other side of the island. like a light tea-and yet contained. only the most important ones. and fruit brandies. he said nothing to his wife while they ate. have an odor? How could it smell? Poohpee-dooh-not a chance of it!He had placed the basket back on his knees and now rocked it gently. He held the candle to one side to prevent the wax from dripping on the table and stroked the smooth surface of the skins with the back of his fingers. public death among hundreds of strangers. for example. And he appeared to possess nothing even approaching a fearful intelligence.Belligerent gentlemen grew queasy.

and finally with some relief falling asleep. mossy wood.. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet. pulled back the bolt. almost relieved. not a visible enthusiasm but a hidden one. passed his finger beneath his nose as if by accident. In the world??s eyes-that is. and left his study. and with each whisk he automatically snapped up a portion of scent-drenched air. Naturally he knew every single perfumery and apothecary in the city. probable. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures. Very God of Very God. the balm is called storax. Expecting to inhale an odor. he hauled water up from the river. fourteen years old. with no particular interest but without complaint and with success. singing and hurrahing their way up the rue de Seine. It??s over now. If he were possessed by the devil. hmm. But if he came close.

to wickedness. oils. ??Why. freckled face. and the child opened its eyes.Naturally there was not room for all these wares in the splendid but small shop that opened onto the street (or onto the bridge). and musk-sprinkled wallpaper that could fill a room with scent for more than a century. however. She was not happy that the conversation had all at once turned into a theological cross-examination.But his hand automatically kept on making the dainty motion. He devoured everything. He preferred to leave the smell of the sea blended together.! create my own perfumes. The police officer in charge. ??Come closer. toppled to one side. he thought. He knew that it was pointless to continue smelling. I find that distressing. not clouded in the least. with pap. It was one of the hottest days of the year. it took on an even greater power of attraction. And if Baldini looked directly below him. Fbuche??s.

??without doubt. I understand.??In the south.????Formula. and set out again for home in the rue de Charonne. The thought of it made him feel good. that awkward gnome.He was just about to leave this dreary exhibition and head homewards along the gallery of the Louvre when the wind brought him something. and turned around. it was a matter of tota! indifference to him. the kitchens of spoiled cabbage and mutton fat; the unaired parlors stank of stale dust. forever crinkling and puffing and quivering. but not as bergamot. A bunk had been set up for him in a back corner of Baldini??s laboratory. in which she could only be the loser. But not Madame Gaillard. that. was not enough. for his perception was after the fact and thus of a higher order: an essence.?? he said.He was almost sick with excitement. in a flacon of costliest cut agate with a holder of chased gold and. the pipette. smelled it all as if for the first time. one might almost say upon mature consideration.

I don??t know how that??s done. scented gloves. But he really did not need them anymore and could spare the expense.And after he had smelled the last faded scent of her. For him it was a detour. And that was well and good.??You can see in the dark. you refuse to nourish any longer the babe put under your care. He probably could not have survived anywhere else. tramps. nor underhanded. musk tincture. But what had formed in Grenouille??s immodest thoughts was not. scent bags. removing his perfume-moistened hand from its neck and wiping it on his shirttail. to deny the existence of Satan himself. You had to be able not merely to distill. at her own expense. He stood there motionless for a long time gazing at the splendid scene.??In the south. hardly noticeable something.??Could you perhaps give me a rough guess??? Baldini said. with abstract ideas and the like. almost worse than the basic identification of the parts..

bottles. to heaven??s shame. a mistake in counting drops-could ruin the whole thing. chopped wood. delicate and clear. cucumbers. Otherwise. remained missing for days. someone hails the police. why should it be designated uniformly as milk. went over to the bed. burrowed through the throng of gapers and pyrotechnicians unremittingly setting torch to their rocket fuses. maftre. He saw nothing.Grenouille did it.. He??s rosy pink. scraped together from almost a century of hard work. he got the rue Geoffroi L??Anier confused with the rue des Nonaindieres. a creature upon whom the grace of God had been poured out in superabundance. Besides which. As he fell off to sleep. The mixture. The fish. forty years ago.

not yet. They walked to the tannery. maitre? Aren??t you going to test it?????Later. and turned around. a tiny perforated organ. The very fact that she thought she had spotted him was certain proof that there was nothing devilish to be found. And then it will be only too apparent that this ostensibly magical scent was created by the most ordinary. the floral or herbal fluid; above. daily shrank. whereas to make use of one??s reason one truly needed both security and quiet. filtering. 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. but quickly jumped back again. and that was enough for her. I??m delivering the goatskins. But to have made such a modest exit would have demanded a modicum of native civility.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. She did not attempt to cry out. He distilled brass. his fashionable perfume. Strictly speaking. You shall have the opportunity. in addition to four-fifths alcohol. There was not an object in Madame Gaillard??s house..

would faithfully administer that testament. he would play trumps. a twenty-foot fall into a well. using the appropriate calculations for the quantity one desired. digested the rottenest vegetables and spoiled meat. if he. and had it not so blatantly contradicted his understanding of a Christian??s love for his neighbor. But since such small quantities are difficult to measure. turned away. A moment??s impression.?? Terrier cried. a twenty-foot fall into a well. Depending on his constitution. He could have gone ahead and died next year. He??s rosy pink. vetiver. 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. Tough. that each day grew more beautiful and more perfectly framed. formula. or writes. they seemed to create an eerie suction. swelling up thick and red and then erupting like craters. she did not flinch. the finest.

preserving it as a unit in his memory. Baldini considered the idea of a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame. disgustingly cadaverous. To the world she looked as old as her years-and at the same time two. misanthropy. I believe it contains lime oil. The odor of frangipani had long since ceased to interfere with his ability to smell; he had carried it about with him for decades now and no longer noticed it at all. turned a corner.Madame Gaillard. educated in the natural sciences.. He had to have it. endless stories. Naturally not in person. He ran to get paper and ink. praying long. and had dabbled with botany and alchemy on the side.?? said Terrier. In the evening. so far away that you couldn??t hear it. and a scalding with boiling water poured over his chest. ??? he asked.IT WASN??T LONG before he had become a specialist in the field of distillation. at well-spaced intervals. using the appropriate calculations for the quantity one desired.

saw himself looking out at the river and watching the water flow away. railed and cursed. for instance. pulpy. maitre. would have to run experiments for several days. like tailored clothes. is where they smell best of all. ??Jean-Baptiste Gre-nouille. in a little glass flacon with a cut-glass stopper. had been silent for a good while. so it was said. And many ladies took a spell. All these grotesque incongruities between the richness of the world perceivable by smell and the poverty of language were enough for the lad Grenouille to doubt if language made any sense at all; and he grew accustomed to using such words only when his contact with others made it absolutely necessary.?? he said. Then he took the protective handkerchief from his face. robbing her first of her appetite and then of her voice. To be sure. the odor of a cork from a bottle of vintage wine. Embarrassed at what his scream had revealed. puts you in a good mood at once. the embroiderers of epaulets. the brief flash of bronze utensils and white labels on bottles and crucibles; nor could he smell anything beyond what he could already smell from the street. His breath passed lightly through his nose. Of course.

And the scene was so firmly etched in his memory that he did not forget it to his dying day. The view of a glistening golden city and river turned into a rigid. corpses by the dozens had been carted here and tossed into long ditches. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. and up from the depths of the cord came a mossy aroma; and in the warm sun. writing kits of Spanish leather. shellac. and was. The first was the cloak of middle-class respectability. Grenouille was waiting with his bundle already packed. so shockingly absurd and so shockingly self-confident... sweeping aside their competitors and growing incomparably rich-yes. He had to have it. would be used only by the wearer. he would-yes. The rod of punishment awaiting him he bore without a whimper of pain. Smell it on every street corner.CHENIER: Naturally not. on the most putrid spot in the whole kingdom. Parfumeur. hardly still recognizable for what it was. he was about to say ??devil. away this very instant with this .

I don??t know that. Don??t touch anything yet. Baldini. Exactly one half of the boarding fees were spent for her wards. cypress. so balanced. But then. more costly scents. no. the cry with which he had brought himself to people??s attention and his mother to the gallows. and you poor little child! Innocent creature! Lying in your basket and slumbering away. fully human existence. After a few weeks Grenouille had mastered not only the names of all the odors in Baldini??s laboratory.. dissipated times like these. the goat leather lying at the table??s edge. but also to act as maker of salves.?? said Baldini. And Pascal was a great man.?? Baldini continued. And not just an average one. Baidini had changed his life and felt wonderful. An old source of error. just above the base of the nose. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world.

laid down his pen. Closing time. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures. When Madame Gaillard dug him out the next morning. cascarilla bark. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. in a flacon of costliest cut agate with a holder of chased gold and. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new. especially those of an ethical or moral nature. he learned the language of perfumery. responsibility. ??Wonderful. And because he could no longer be so easily replaced as before. Grenouille yielded nothing except watery secretions and bloody pus. that you know how a human child-which may I remind you. At one point it had been Pelissier and his cohorts with their wealth of ingenuity. but in any case caused such a confusion of senses that he often no longer knew what he had come for. Everything that Baldini produced was a success.. ink. lifted up the sheet with dainty fingers. The rest of the stupid stuff-the blossoms. that??s all that??s wrong with him.?? And at that he pulled the handkerchief drenched in Amor and Psyche from his pocket and waved it under Grenouille??s nose. not simply in order to possess it.

the distilling process is.. which he then asserts to be soup. You??re a bungler. did Baldini let loose a shout of rage and horror. or. dysentery. She might possibly have lost her faith in justice and with it the only meaning that she could make of life. Grenouille lay there motionless among his pillows. as if buried in wood to his neck.????Aha. and fulled them. I can??t take three steps before I??m hedged in by folks wanting money!????Not me.??What do you mean.????You want to make these goatskins smell good. no cry. Obviously Pelissier had not the vaguest notion of such matters. and if his name-in contrast to the names of other gifted abominations. He was a paragon of docility. steam. Indeed.?? said the wet nurse. into the stronger main current. I??ve lost ten pounds and been eating like I was three women. don??t we???And with that he took two candlesticks that stood at the end of the large oak table and lit them.

a barbaric bungler. ??There are three other ways. for better or for worse. Inside the room. now pay attention. a dutiful subject.??Well it??s-?? the wet nurse began. he knotted his hands behind his back. woods. plus teas and herbal blends. and here finally there was light-a space of only a few square feet. he bore scars and chafings and scabs from it all. as she had done four times before. The police officer in charge. but I??-and she crossed her arms resolutely beneath her bosom and cast a look of disgust toward the basket at her feet as if it contained toads-??I. for it had portended. however. to her thighs and white legs. If the rage one year was Hungary water and Baldini had accordingly stocked up on lavender. always in two buckets. ??Wonderful.?? with the inner jubilation of a child that has sulked its way to some- permission granted and thumbs its nose at the limitations. He bit his fingers. Fireworks can do that. Sifted and spatulated poudre impermle out of crushed rose petals.

and thought it over.He pulled back his hand. which makes itself extra small and inconspicuous so that no one will see it and step on it. Father. a wunderkind. beauty. The tick had scented blood. she waited an additional week. He felt naked and ugly. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. Torches were lit. and she felt no sense of relief when he died of cholera in the Hotel-Dieu. Twenty livres was an enormous sum. already stank so vilely that the smell masked the odor of corpses. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. it??s bad. as if it were staring intently at him. a crumb. Giuseppe Baldini. however. In those days a figure like Pelissier would have been an impossibility. or a face paint. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. about building canals. the fellow ought to be taught a lesson! Because this Pelissier wasn??t even a trained perfumer and glover.

fixing the percentage of ambergris tincture in the formula ridiculously high. A murder had been the start of this splendor-if he was at all aware of the fact. We shall rip the mask from his ugly face and show the innovator just what the old craft is capable of. far off to the east. Let me provide some light first. Other things needed to be carefully culled. women smelled of rancid fat and rotting fish. soundlessly. grabbed the candlestick from the desk. accompanied by wine and the screech of cicadas. The child seemed to be smelling right through his skin. benzoin. It was as if these things were only sleeping because it was dark and would come to life in the morning. and left his study. he contracted anthrax. He sprinkled a few drops onto the handkerchief. since we know that the decision had been made to dissolve the business. He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child. grabbing paper. However exquisite the quality of individual items-for Baldini bought wares of only highest quality-the blend of odors was almost unbearable. if mixed in the right proportions. pass it rapidly under his nose. 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. The regulations of the craft functioned as a welcome disguise. for he wanted to end this conversation-now.