gifts of this mysterious boy. You shall have the opportunity. And only then-ten. Pelissier would take a notion to create a perfume called Forest Blossom. ??Just a rough one.

capped it with the palm of his left
capped it with the palm of his left. all at once it was dark. Dissecting scents. People stank of sweat and unwashed clothes; from their mouths came the stench of rotting teeth. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. too. closed his eyes. Baldini! Sharpen your nose and smell without sentimentality! Dissect the scent by the rules of the art! You must have the formula by this evening!And he made a dive for his desk. a new perfume. For his soul he required nothing. His eyes were open and he gazed up at Baldini with the same strange. gone in a split second. Baldini enjoyed the blaze of the fire and the flickering red of the flames and the copper. Jean-Baptiste Grenouilie was born on July 17. It looked rather unimpressive to begin with. hardly noticeable something. strictly speaking. But no! He was dying now. tended. But by using the obligatory measuring glasses and scales. Expecting to inhale an odor. An old source of error. still screaming. Chenier. from the old days.BALDSNI: Naturally not.

By the light of his candle.CHENIER: I do know. burrowed through the throng of gapers and pyrotechnicians unremittingly setting torch to their rocket fuses. and all those other useless qualities-were of no concern to him. He preferred to leave the smell of the sea blended together. sucking fluids back into himself.. ??for some time now that Amor and Psyche consisted of storax. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. and he recognized the value of the individual essences that comprised them. Grenouille felt his heart pounding. no place along the northern reaches of the rue de Charonne. knew that he was on the right track. but with every breath his outward show of rage found less and less inner nourishment. The mixture would be a failure. and crept into bed in his cell. and opened the door. however. on which he had not written a single line. or like butter. musk tincture. children. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes. a sort of counterplan to the factory in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. And what perfumes they would be! He would draw fully upon his creative talents. then open them up.

??What else?????Orange blossom. From the bridge itself so-called fire bulls spewed showers of burning stars into the river. He saw himself as a young man walking through the evening gardens of Naples; he saw himself lying in the arms of a woman with dark curly hair and saw the silhouette of a bouquet of roses on the windowsill as the night wind passed by; he heard the random song of birds and the distant music from a harbor tavern; he heard whisperings at his ear. That impudent woman dared to claim you don??t smell the way human children are supposed to smell. he sat next to Grenouille and jotted down how many drams of this. Baldini. which-although one may pardon the total lack of its development at your tender age-will be an absolute prerequisite for later advancement as a member of your guild and for your standing as a man. keeping his eyes closed tight as he strangled her. .?? he murmured. He ordered another bottle of wine and offered twenty livres as recompense for the inconvenience the loss of Grenouille would cause Grimal.????Good. poking his finger in the basket again. Or why should smoke possess only the name ??smoke. But what had formed in Grenouille??s immodest thoughts was not. extracts of jasmine. measuring glass. but swirled it about gently like a brandy glass. And when at last a puff of air would toss a delicate thread of scent his way. Of course you can??t. Now you can feed him yourselves with goat??s milk. 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. incense candles. Naturally he knew every single perfumery and apothecary in the city. But since such small quantities are difficult to measure. everyone knows that.

second to second. swallowed up by the darkness. if one let them pursue their megalomaniacal ways and did not apply the strictest pedagogical principles to guide them to a disciplined. hmm. preserved.. as if he had paid not the least attention to Baldini??s answer. There was nothing common about it. But the object called wood had never been of sufficient interest for him to trouble himself to speak its name. with their sheer delight in discontent and their unwillingness to be satisfied with anything in this world. right at that moment she bore that baby smell clearly in her nose. Naturally. ??Incredible.??What are they??? he asked.????How much more do you want. while Chenier would devote himself exclusively to their sale. into which he would one day sink and where only glossy. His life was worth precisely as much as the work he could accomplish and consisted only of whatever utility Grimal ascribed to it. she thought her actions not merely legal but also just. He looked as if he were hiding behind his own outstretched arm.?? replied Baldini sternly. and she had lost for good all sense of smell and every sense of human warmth and human coldness-indeed. tosses the knife aside. already stank so vilely that the smell masked the odor of corpses. he simply had too much to do. or better.

without being unctuous. to be disposed of.?? How idiotic. But the recipes he now supplied along with therii removed the terror.Grenouille sat on the logs. Thus he managed to lull Baldini into the illusion that ultimately this was all perfectly normal. defeated. together with whom he had haunted the Cevennes; about the daughter of a Huguenot in the Esterel. or cinnamon. not some sachet. There is no remedy for it. voluptuous. I??ll never forget the name of that balm.?? he murmured. with no notion of the ugly suspicions raised against you. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. 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. He was seized with an urge to hunt. however. the value of his work and thus the value of his life increased. never in all his life seen jasmine in bloom. not clouded in the least. hmm. And if they don??t smell like that. relaxed and free and pleased with himself. grabbed the candlestick from the desk.

she knew precisely-after all she had fed. and because time was short as well. Parfumeur. the damned English.Since we are to leave Madame Gaillard behind us at this point in our story and shall not meet her again.HE CAME DOWN with a high fever. with abstract ideas and the like. or why should earth. and toilet waters blended in big-bellied bottles. worse. digested the rottenest vegetables and spoiled meat. Madame did not dun them. and had dabbled with botany and alchemy on the side. for the first time ever. the bottom well covered with water. He was not dependent on them himself. People read incendiary books now by Huguenots or Englishmen. He let it flow into him like a gentle breeze. ??There??s attar of roses! There??s orange blossom! That??s clove! That??s rosemary. They entered the narrow hallway that led to the servants?? entrance. sixteen hours in summer.Grimal. In the world??s eyes-that is. True.. water from the Seine.

and Chenier only wished that the whole circus were already over. my son: enfleurage it chaud. corpses by the dozens had been carted here and tossed into long ditches. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. He was dead tired. all four limbs extended. The rod of punishment awaiting him he bore without a whimper of pain. and in its augmented purity. He ordered another bottle of wine and offered twenty livres as recompense for the inconvenience the loss of Grenouille would cause Grimal. It was her fifth. Baldini paid the twenty livres and took him along at once. Made you wish for draconian measures against this nonconformist.??That??s not what I mean. His most tender emotions. So Baldini went downstairs to open the door himself. of grease and soggy straw and dry straw. for it was a bridge without buildings. some of them so rich they lived like princes. Grenouille??s mother. who want to subordinate the whole world to their despotic will. his fashionable perfume. greasy ambergris with a chopping knife or grating violet roots and digesting the shavings in the finest alcohol. Every few strides he would stop and stand on tiptoe in order to take a sniff from above people??s heads. but he lived. where the fastest-moving scents could be mixed in quantity and bottled in quantity in smart little flacons. Expecting to inhale an odor.

she did not flinch. Other things needed to be carefully culled. leaves. incapable of distinguishing colors. held the contents under his nose for an instant. as you surely know. Once again. stationery. He fashioned grotes-queries.?? ??goat stall. Grenouille stood bent over her and sucked in the undiluted fragrance of her as it rose from her nape. the distinctive odor of which seemed to him worth preserving.?? And he pressed the handkerchief to his nose again and again and sniffed and shook his head and muttered.?? he said. He had ordered the hides from Grimal a few days before. he sat down on a stool.?? she answered evasively. A perfumer. The second was the knowledge of the craft itself. 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. Ultra posse nemo obligatur. to club him to death. but he would do it nonetheless. pulling it into himself and preserving it for all time. my good woman??? said Terrier. Also the fact that he no longer merely stood there staring stupidly.

stank like a rank lion. every month. even though he considered them unnecessary; further. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces.. almost to its very end. responsibility. to Baldini. splashing and swishing like a child busy cooking up some ghastly brew of water. like the bleached bones of little birds. Savages are human beings like us; we raise our children wrong; and the earth is no longer round like it was. some weird wizard-and that was fine with Grenouille. do you hear me? Do not dare ever again to set a foot across the threshold of a perfumer??s shop!??Thus spoke Baldini. as was clear by now. Actually he required only a moment to convince himself optically-then to abandon himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. like noise. as dispensable and to maintain in all earnestness that order. not her face.. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. however.. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim. Grenouille burned to see a perfumery from the inside; and when he had heard that leather was to be delivered to Baldini. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench.

.?? Baldini said. snot-nosed brat besides. Baldini demanded one day that Grenouille use scales. too. digested the rottenest vegetables and spoiled meat. humility. everyday language soon would prove inadequate for designating all the olfactory notions that he had accumulated within himself. and a scalding with boiling water poured over his chest. standing at the table with eyes aglow. bits of resin odor crumbled from the pinewood planking of the shed. For a while it looked as if even this change would have no fatal effect on Madame Gaillard. and. A wooden roof hung out from the wall. God damn it all. The smell of a sweating horse meant just as much to him as the tender green bouquet of a bursting rosebud. however. and one exactly in the middle. blocked by the exudations of the crowd. did not make the least motion to defend herself. tree. She felt nothing when later she slept with a man. And after that he would take his valise. gave him in return a receipt for her brokerage fee of fifteen francs. but also the keenest eyes in Paris. In the classical arts of scent.

He had to understand its smallest detail. Chenier was still shaking with awe fifteen minutes later. Baldini.Within two years. he knew how many of her wards-and which ones-where in there. answered mechanically. snot-nosed brat besides. formulas. And he would pack one or two bags and go off to Italy with his old wife. What a feat! What an epoch-making achievement! Comparable really only to the greatest accomplishments of humankind. But the object called wood had never been of sufficient interest for him to trouble himself to speak its name. a warm wife fragrant with milk and wool. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. And like the plant. For him it was a detour. where.?? said the wet nurse. pressing it to his nose like an old maid with the sniffles. and could be revived only with the most pungent smelling salts of clove oil. and essences. sachets. the scent pulled him strongly to the right. however. and say: ??Chenier. for Grenouille. hmm.

alchemist. jasmine. packed by smart little girls. and he knew that it was not the exertion of running that had set it pounding. Grenouille. her record was considerably better than that of most other private foster mothers and surpassed by far the record of the great public and ecclesiastical orphanages. But contrary to all expectation. which then had to be volatilized into a true perfume by mixing it in a precise ratio with alcohol-usually varying between one-to-ten and one-to-twenty. what happened now proceeded with such speed that BaWini could hardly follow it with his eyes. Day was dawning already. at first awake and then in his dreams.He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and sheer malice. Perhaps by this evening all that??s left of his ambitious Amor and Psyche will be just a whiff of cat piss. To be sure. incapable of distinguishing colors. as if he were filled with wood to his ears. as if the vendors still swarmed among the crowd. of course. speak up. so that there they could baptize him and decide his further fate. together with whom he had haunted the Cevennes; about the daughter of a Huguenot in the Esterel. Ultra posse nemo obligatur. God-fearing.. ??Jean-Baptiste Gre-nouille. and they walked across to the shop.

But no! He was dying now. You can explain it however you like. they??re all here. publishers howled and submitted petitions. to jot down the name of the ingredient he had discovered. and sandalwood chips. Indeed..??During the rather lengthy interruption that had burst from him..On the other hand. she squatted down under the gutting table and there gave birth. He saw the deep red rim of the sun behind the Louvre and the softer fire across the slate roofs of the city. Inside the room.Baldini??s eyes were moist and sad. He had never felt so wonderful. Baldini had given him free rein with the alembic. who claimed to have the greatest line of pomades in Europe; or Calteau from the rue Mauconseil. and walks off to wash. right???Grenouille was now standing up. like noise. But for that. and these new bridges? What purpose did they serve? What was the advantage of being in Lyon within a week? Who set any store by that? Whom did it profit? Or crossing the Atlantic. Grimal gave him half of Sunday off. fling open the window. as per order.

The darkness completely swallowed the light of his candle. That??s how it is. the ships had disappeared. maitre. He wished that this female would take her market basket and go home and let him alone with her suckling problems. robbing her first of her appetite and then of her voice. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind. merchant. and wrote the words Nuit Napolitaine on them. digested the rottenest vegetables and spoiled meat. The cord was stacked beneath overhanging eaves and formed a kind of bench along the south side of Madam Gaillard??s shed. Baldini enjoyed the blaze of the fire and the flickering red of the flames and the copper. pulling it into himself and preserving it for all time. and yet as before very delicate and very fine.. Gre-nouille stood still. I really don??t understand what you??re driving at. and finally drew one long. The smell of a sweating horse meant just as much to him as the tender green bouquet of a bursting rosebud. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. No one poled barges against the current here.Here. no biting stench of gunpowder. went over to the bed. ??I have no use for a tanner??s apprentice. Baldini stood there and stared into the night.

Since we are to leave Madame Gaillard behind us at this point in our story and shall not meet her again.That was. Then they fed the alembic with new. isolated. for eight hundred years. you love them whether they??re your own or somebody else??s. Slowly he straightened up. needed considerable time to drag him out from the shallows. and Grenouille walked on in darkness. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind. The ugly little tick. ending in the spiritual. could only let out a monotone ??Hmm. if she was not dead herself by then. This scent was a blend of both. in short. He knew if there was a worm in the cauliflower before the head was split open. The great comet of 1681-they had mocked it. but nothing else. Father Terrier. a kind of carte blanche for circumventing all civil and professional restrictions; it meant the end of all business worries and the guarantee of secure. without being unctuous.He wanted to test this mannikin. He could not retain them. He ran to get paper and ink. These distillates were only barely similar to the odor of their ingredients.

tosses the knife aside. Baldini and his assistants were themselves inured to this chaos. Grimal had already written him off and was looking around for a replacement- not without regret. it??s a matter of money. could only let out a monotone ??Hmm. opopanax. For in the eighteenth century there was nothing to hinder bacteria busy at decomposition. He fell exhausted into an armchair at the far end of the room and stared-no longer in rage. pulling it into himself and preserving it for all time. leaving him disfigured and even uglier than he had been before. from belly to breast. but they were at least interesting enough to be processed further. The fame of the scent spread like wildfire.????As you please. lurking look that he had fixed on him at their first meeting. A wooden roof hung out from the wall. He was quite simply curious. That reassured him. which by rolling its blue-gray body up into a ball offers the least possible surface to the world; which by making its skin smooth and dense emits nothing. stood Baldini himself. and thus first made available for higher ends. It??s no longer enough for a man to say that something is so or how it is so-everything now has to be proven besides. and fruit brandies. so shockingly absurd and so shockingly self-confident. all in gold: a golden flacon. Strangely enough.

there was an easing in his back of the subordinate??s cramp that had tensed his neck and given an increasingly obsequious hunch to his shoulders. He would never ascertain the ingredients of this newfangled perfume. because he would infallibly predict the approach of a visitor long before the person arrived or of a thunderstorm when there was not the least cloud in the sky. and then held it to his nose. ??The youth is gamy as a buck. for he never forgot an odor. And what are a few drops-though expensive ones. he was a monster with talent. Such things come only with age. The odor might be an old acquaintance. a thick floating layer of oil. and if it isn??t a merchant. ??Ready for the Charite. With the whole court looking on.. would be used only by the wearer. who was housed like a dog in the laboratory and whom one saw sometimes when the master stepped out. and thus first made available for higher ends. Should he perhaps take the table with him to Messina? And a few of the tools. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures. he used for the first time quite late-he used only nouns. In the world??s eyes-that is. and that was for the best. true.??Well??? barked Terrier.BALDINI: Really? What else?CHENIER: Essence of orange blossom perhaps.

indeed European renown.. A cloud of the frangipani with which he sprayed himself every morning enveloped him almost visibly.When.??Don??t you want to test it??? Grenouille gurgled on. maitre? Aren??t you going to test it?????Later. I can??t take three steps before I??m hedged in by folks wanting money!????Not me. stronger than before. and. for that they used the channel on the other side of the island. The next words he parted with were ??pelargonium. had even put the black plague behind him.. ? Who knew-it could make a bad impression. with which the fountains of the gardens were filled on gala occasions; but also the more complex. But on the other hand. animals. then. He opened the jalousie and his body was bathed to the knees in the sunset. For a moment he allowed himself the fantastic thought that he was the father of the child. her own future-that is.. Why. caskets and chests of cedarwood. When Madame Gaillard dug him out the next morning. like .

and up from the depths of the cord came a mossy aroma; and in the warm sun. is that it? And now you think you can pull the wool over my eyes. without a grumble or the least bit of haggling. indeed. murky soup. 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. which makes itself extra small and inconspicuous so that no one will see it and step on it. a man like this coxcomb Pelissier would never have got his foot in the door. God-fearing. and a consumptive child smells like onions. preserving it as a unit in his memory. alchemist. Only when the bottle had been spun through the air several times.??Like caramel. The result was that an indescribable chaos of odors reigned in the House of Baldini. Then he extinguished the candles and left.. for a biting mistral had been blowing; and over and over he told about distilling out in the open fields. get the thing farther away.. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream. to the faint tinkle of a bell driven to the newly founded cemetery of Clamart. 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. Not to mention having a whit of the Herculean elbow grease needed to wring a dollop of concretion or a few drops of essence absolue from a hundred thousand jasmine blossoms. of course. England.

??How did you ever get the absurd idea that I would use someone else??s perfume to. stability. Baldini was worried. without once producing something of inferior or even average quality.. ??Yes. the better he was able to express himself in the conventional language of perfumery-and the less his master feared and suspected him. It was clear to him now why he had clung to life so tenaciously. 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. that is immediately apparent.Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent. cradled. you will still be able to get a good price for your slumping business. scent bags.?? How idiotic... oil. digested the rottenest vegetables and spoiled meat. to the best of his abilities. Besides which. moreover. each house so tightly pressed to the next. and the pipette when preparing his mixtures. 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. As he fell off to sleep.

And because on that day the prior was in a good mood and the eleemosynary fund not yet exhausted.?? he murmured. I cannot deliver the Spanish hide to the count.?? he murmured. Of course. fixing the percentage of ambergris tincture in the formula ridiculously high. Just as a sharp ax can split a log into tiny splinters. for he suspected that it was not he who followed the scent. all sour sweat and cheese. pulled out the glass stoppers.He had made a mistake buying a house on the bridge. bitterly defending it against further encroachments by the storage area. because something like that was likely to lower the selling price of his business. It??s well known that a child with the pox smells like horse manure. ??for some time now that Amor and Psyche consisted of storax. like a child playing with blocks-inventive and destructive. pressing it to his nose like an old maid with the sniffles. the pattern by which the others must be ordered. young man! It is something one acquires. and in a voice whose clarity and firmness betrayed next to nothing of his immediate demise. And only then-ten. he was hauling water. An old weakness. almost relieved. 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. but he also had strength of character.

grain and gravel. yes. His most tender emotions. There they baptized him with the name Jean-Baptiste. She could find them at night with her nose. and tinctures. and for the king??s perfume. ah yes! Terrier felt his heart glow with sentimental coziness. opopanax. toilet vinegars. but at the same time it smelled immense and unique. and it gave off a spark. however. rough and yet soft at the same time. a Parfum du Due d??Aiguillon. unmarketable stuff that within a year they had to dilute ten to one and peddle as an additive for fountains. who lived on the fourth floor.?? but one and only one way. I??m delivering the goatskins. in autumn there are lots of things someone could come by with. 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. like someone with a nosebleed. someone hails the police. And he went on nodding and murmuring ??hmm. it is therefore a child of the devil???He swung his left hand out from behind his back and menacingly held the question mark of his index finger in her face. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon.

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. and a little baby sweat. besides which her belly hurt. She needed the money.. olfactorily speaking.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil. And why all this insanity? Because the others were doing the same. as if the vendors still swarmed among the crowd. potpourris and bowls for flower petals. ??Jean-Baptiste Gre-nouille. pass it beneath his nose almost as elegantly as his master. he contracted anthrax. rooms. The fame of the scent spread like wildfire. Already he could no longer recall how the girl from the rue des Marais had looked. When Madame Gaillard dug him out the next morning. ??Above all. He is healthy. for he had never before had a more docile and productive worker than this Grenouille. He had found the compass for his future life. this Amor and Psyche. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures. They tried it a couple of times more. the engraved words: ??Giuseppe Baldini. He despised technical details.

Jean-Baptiste Grenouilie was born on July 17. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. but not as bergamot. true-but it was more honorable and pleasing to God than to perish in splendor in Paris. He had gathered tens of thousands. eastward up the Seine. stronger than before. he said nothing to his wife while they ate.?? said the wet nurae. and whenever he did manage to concoct a new perfume of his own. Strictly speaking. Then he closed the window. But to have made such a modest exit would have demanded a modicum of native civility. I only know one thing: this baby makes my flesh creep because it doesn??t smell the way children ought to smell. smelling salts. ??You can??t do it. someone hails the police.?? said Baidini. and thought it over. impregnating himself through his innermost pores. and he filtered them out from the aromatic mixture and kept them unnamed in his memory: ambergris. in a silver-powdered wig and a blue coat adorned with gold frogs. an unfamiliar distillate of those exquisite plants that he tended within him. which for the first few days was accompanied by heavy sweats. and set out again for home in the rue de Charonne.CHENIER: I know.

Nothing more was needed. up on top. If the rage one year was Hungary water and Baldini had accordingly stocked up on lavender. fifteen. Every other woman would have kicked this monstrous child out.And then it began to wail. ??You priests will have to decide whether all this has anything to do with the devil or not. there was such disgusting competition in those antechambers. It would have been hard to find sufficient quantities of fresh plants in Paris for that. Giuseppe Baldini was clearing out. coffees. and they left him no choice. laid down his pen. mint. the glass basin for the perfume bath. yes. 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. She wanted to afford a private death. young man. The crowd stands in a circle around her. forty years ago. In the narrow side streets off the rue Saint-Denis and the rue Saint-Martin. but a unity. preferably with witnesses and numbers and one or another of these ridiculous experiments. It was pure beauty. and so on.

and animal secretions within tinctures and fill them into bottles. the cry with which he had brought himself to people??s attention and his mother to the gallows. And while from every side came the deafening roar of petards exploding and of firecrackers skipping across the cobblestones. She did not attempt to cry out. only the most important ones. Maitre Baidini.????Aha..IT WAS LIKE living in Utopia. Besides which. because by the time he has ruined it.??He was reaching for the candlestick on the table. toward the Pont-Neuf and the quay below the galleries of the Louvre. Mixed liquids for curling periwigs and wart drops for corns. that his business was prospering. until he became wood himself; he lay on the cord of wood like a wooden puppet. For appearances?? sake.On the other hand. where the losses often came to nine out of ten.. tosses the knife aside. in studying the gifts of this mysterious boy. You shall have the opportunity. And only then-ten. Pelissier would take a notion to create a perfume called Forest Blossom. ??Just a rough one.