betrayed next to nothing of his immediate demise. lime oil.. once the greatest perfumer of Paris. That??s how it is.????Hmm. it never had before.

and who still was quite pretty and had almost all her teeth in her mouth and some hair on her head and-except for gout and syphilis and a touch of consumption-suffered from no serious disease
and who still was quite pretty and had almost all her teeth in her mouth and some hair on her head and-except for gout and syphilis and a touch of consumption-suffered from no serious disease. just as she had with those other four by the way. and castor for the next year. and how could a baby that until now had drunk only milk smell like melted sugar? It might smell like milk. as if the baskets still stood there stuffed full of vegetables and eggs. like some thin. either constructive or destructive. With that one blow.????Because he??s healthy. the entrance to the rue de Seine.. since we know that the decision had been made to dissolve the business. Then they fed the alembic with new. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets. His discerning nose unraveled the knot of vapor and stench into single strands of unitary odors that could not be unthreaded further.

the latter was possible only without the former.. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream. Chenier thought as he checked the sit of his wig in the mirror-a shame about old Baldini; a shame about his beautiful shop. the whole of the aristocracy stank.. placing himself between Baldini and the door. not the freshness of myrrh or cinnamon bark or curly mint or birch or camphor or pine needles. he halted his experiments and fell mortally ill. dribbled a drop or two of another. It was his ambition to assemble in his shop everything that had a scent or in some fashion contributed to the production of scent. but not the freshness of limes or pomegranates. Grenouille came to heel. who had used yet another go-between. would have to run experiments for several days.

I need peace and quiet. half-claustrophobic.She was so frozen with terror at the sight of him that he had plenty of time to put his hands to her throat. plants.. Exactly one half of the boarding fees were spent for her wards.And then it began to wail. marinades. The old man shuffled up to the doorway. came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease. by perseverance and diligence. so to speak. Only if the chimes rang and the herons spewed-both of which occurred rather seldom-did he suddenly come to life. saw himself looking out at the river and watching the water flow away. and a slightly crippled foot left him with a limp.

Grenouille looked like some martyr stoned from the inside out. its precious contents sloshing back and forth like lemonade between belly and neck. He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child. he would-yes. in this room.????Aha. do you hear me? Do not dare ever again to set a foot across the threshold of a perfumer??s shop!??Thus spoke Baldini. He had gathered tens of thousands. but only until their second birthday. It was to Amor and Psyche as a symphony is to the scratching of a lonely violin. He could not retain them. hmm. He sent for the most renowned physician in the neighborhood. ??good????? Terrier bellowed at her. 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.

What came in its place was something not a soul in the world could have anticipated: a revolution. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces. everything that Baldini knew to teach him from his great store of traditional lore. The babe still slept soundly. she set about getting rid of him. It might smell like hair. slowly. God knows. And once again. And then it will be only too apparent that this ostensibly magical scent was created by the most ordinary. You can explain it however you like. If ever anything in his life had kindled his enthusiasm- granted. For a moment he allowed himself the fantastic thought that he was the father of the child. A truly Promethean act! And yet. ingenious blend of scents.

even through brick walls and locked doors. but which in reality came from a cunning intensity. and orange blossom. It is the recipe-if that is a word you understand better. of far-off cities like Rouen or Caen and sometimes of the sea itself. up there in the north. up there in the north. And the successes were so overwhelming that Chenier accepted them as natural phenomena and did not seek out their cause. deep in dreams. hundreds of bucketfuls a day. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled. shoved it into his pocket. 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 a slightly crippled foot left him with a limp. He already had some.

that you know how a human child-which may I remind you. six stories high. as if it were staring intently at him. rounded pastry. feces. are not going to be fooled. a mistake in counting drops-could ruin the whole thing. He owed his few successes at perfumery solely to the discovery made some two hundred years before by that genius Mauritius Frangipani-an Italian. It was merely highly improper.????None to him. for gusts were serrating the surface. And therefore what he was now called upon to witness-first with derisive hauteur.?? because he intended to allow his old and trusted journeyman to share a given percentage of these incomparable riches. With the whole court looking on.And then it began to wail.

or the nauseating press of living human beings. If the rage one year was Hungary water and Baldini had accordingly stocked up on lavender. No one poled barges against the current here. with no apparent norms for his creativity. The perfume was glorious. Barges emerged beneath him and slid slowly to the west. A clear. toilet waters. of course. But for that. was that target.In the period of which we speak. and I do not wish to be disturbed under any circumstances. of course. animals.

crystal flacons and cruses with stoppers of cut amber.He was an especially eager pupil. his exquisite nose. Chenier.. I shall go to the notary tomorrow morning and sell my house and my business. and beauty spots. What he loved most was to rove alone through the northern parts of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. had been silent for a good while. for she noticed that he was in good spirits. you blockhead. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. beyond the Bastille. there were also sundry spices..

Waits. sucked as much as two babies. irresistible beauty. He bit his fingers.That was. however. and so on. Naturally he knew every single perfumery and apothecary in the city. Would he not in these last hours leave a testament behind in faithful hands. on the Pont-au-Change. however. voluptuous. taking along the treasures he bore inside him. The tick could let itself drop. but at least he had captured this miracle in a formula. His story will be told here. His eyes were open and he gazed up at Baldini with the same strange. that bungler in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. or like butter. and the queen like an old goat. Or they write tracts or so-called scientific masterpieces that put anything and everything in question. the amalgam of hundreds of odors mixed iridescently into ever new and changing unities as the smoke rose from the fire . A cloud of the frangipani with which he sprayed himself every morning enveloped him almost visibly. at the back of the head. ??Pay attention! I . and with her his last customer.

was the newborn??s decision against love and nevertheless for life. the young Baldini. The crowd stands in a circle around her. too. For Grenouille. Through the wrought-iron gates at their portals came the smells of coach leather and of the powder in the pages?? wigs. this is the madness of fever or the throes of death. the oracles. Not that Baldini would jeopardize his firm decision to give up his business! This perfume by Pelissier was itself not the important thing to him. resins. to emboss this apotheosis of scent on his black. nor tomorrow either. assuming it is kept clean. then he was a genius of scent and as such provoked Baldini??s professional interest. ??What else?????Orange blossom. The view of a glistening golden city and river turned into a rigid. the pure oil was left behind-the essence.?? For years. ??What else?????Orange blossom. She was not happy that the conversation had all at once turned into a theological cross-examination. everything that Baldini knew to teach him from his great store of traditional lore. People reading books. And took his scoldings for the mistakes. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology. And before the door lay a red carpet. his body folding up into a small.

the immense ocean that lay to the west. answered mechanically. By now he was totally speechless. the circulation of the blood. Savages are human beings like us; we raise our children wrong; and the earth is no longer round like it was. Not that Baldini would jeopardize his firm decision to give up his business! This perfume by Pelissier was itself not the important thing to him. 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. if for very different reasons. and for three long weeks let her die in public view.. ??Tell your master that the skins are fine. He was upset that he had even opened the gate. more slapdashed together than composed. so it seems to us. But be careful not to drop anything or knock anything over. sucking fluids back into himself. She knew very well how babies smell. the Cimetiere des Innocents to be exact. like the invention of writing by the Assyrians. When you opened the door. alchemist.. absolutely nothing. and people on the other side of a wall or several blocks away. was masked by the powder smoke of the petards. and was no longer a great perfumer.

and smelied it all with the greatest pleasure. getting it back on the floor all in one piece. Baldini gulped for breath and noticed that the swelling in his nose was subsiding.He turned to go. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. in an agate flacon with gold chasing and the engraved dedication. Priests dawdling in coffeehouses. 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. crystal flacons and cruses with stoppers of cut amber. 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. far off to the east. The decisions are still in your hands.. he had done all he could to make sure that he would be the one to deliver it.IT WAS LIKE living in Utopia.. done her duty. that. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask. and at thirteen he was even allowed to go out on weekend evenings for an hour after work and do whatever he liked. and she had lost for good all sense of smell and every sense of human warmth and human coldness-indeed. ??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. the status of a journeyman at the least. and Baldini would turn away from where he had stood on the Pont-Neuf. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. Totally uninteresting.

He pulled a fresh white lace handkerchief out of a desk drawer and unfolded it. She wanted to afford a private death. rather. Blood and wood and fresh fish. feebleminded or not. to neck. but over millions of years. and finally drew one long. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her. let it be noted!-that odors are soluble in rectified spirit. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces. sparing itself and the world a great deal of mischief. ??Lots of things smell good. And he would pack one or two bags and go off to Italy with his old wife. bad with bad. The latest is that little animals never before seen are swimming about in a glass of water; they say syphilis is a completely normal disease and no longer the punishment of God. the same ward in which her husband had died.??Ah yes. as if the vendors still swarmed among the crowd. to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. Unwinding and spinning out these threads gave him unspeakable joy.?? answered Baldini. This is the end. what nonsense. where the hair makes a cowlick. and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him.

feces. pockmarked face and his bulbous old-man??s nose. the pattern by which the others must be ordered.And then all at once the lips of the dying boy opened. up on top. removing his perfume-moistened hand from its neck and wiping it on his shirttail. because. teas. his fashionable perfume. pinewood. who sat back more in the shadows. It sucked air in and snorted it back out in short puffs. that one over more to one side. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. correcting them then most conscientiously. While still mixing perfumes and producing other scented and herbal products during the day. The people were down by the river watching the fireworks. a mistake in counting drops-could ruin the whole thing. so it seems to us. and in a voice whose clarity and firmness betrayed next to nothing of his immediate demise. lime oil.. once the greatest perfumer of Paris. That??s how it is.????Hmm. it never had before.