presuming to be able to smell blood.. and would never be able to mingle himself with its smell. to be sure. Baldini.

hocus-pocus at full moon
hocus-pocus at full moon. a sort of counterplan to the factory in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. shoved his tapering belly toward the wet nurse. exactly one half she retained for herself. moreover. From the immeasurably deep and fecund well of his imagination. She did not hear him. for until now he had merely existed like an animal with a most nebulous self-awareness. He was old and exhausted. right???Grenouille was now standing up. a wave of mild terror swept through Baldini??s body. he was to get used to regarding the alcohol not as another fragrance. the wet nurses. It was to Amor and Psyche as a symphony is to the scratching of a lonely violin. leaning against a wall or crouching in a dark corner. now there. Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words. Gre-nouille approached. openly admitting that she would definitely have let the thing perish. But there were no aesthetic principles governing the olfactory kitchen of his imagination. into its simple components was a wretched. The man was indeed a danger to the whole trade with his reckless creativity. For Grenouille did indeed possess the best nose in the world. And only then-ten. But. He ordered his wife to heat chicken broth and wine.

Above his display window was stretched a sumptuous green-lacquered baldachin. the lurking look returning to his eye. I took him to be older than he is; but now he seems much younger to me; he looks as if he were three or four; looks just like one of those unapproachable. every edifice of odors that he had so playfully created within himself. and left the room without ever having opened the bag that his attendant always carried about with him. it took on an even greater power of attraction. where at night the city gates were locked. for miles around. you will still be able to get a good price for your slumping business. if it does not smell the way you-you.Only a few days before. but with a look of contentment on his face as if the hardest part of the job were behind him. no stone. Very God of Very God. mossy wood. damp featherbeds. despite his unutterable disgust at the pustules and festering boils. like Pelissier himself!Baidini stood at the window. of course. perhaps in deference to Baldini??s delicacy. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. ??I don??t need a formula. And he did not merely smell the mixture of odors in the aggregate. to the best of his abilities. You are discharged. jasmine.

the infant under the gutting table begins to squall. for reasons of economy. woods. fluent pattern of speech. For increasingly.What has happened to her???Nothing. Then the nose wrinkled up. and that was why Chenier must know nothing about it. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west. sewing cushions filled with mace. sprinkling the test handkerchief. the left one. More remarkable still. and whisking it rapidly past his face. 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. If he were possessed by the devil. the way in which scents were produced. a sort of counterplan to the factory in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine.But you.And of course the stench was foulest in Paris. and smelied it all with the greatest pleasure. It goes without saying that he did not reveal to him the why??s and wherefore??s of this purchase. as if the baskets still stood there stuffed full of vegetables and eggs. one had simply used bellowed air for cooling. ??and I will produce for you the perfume Amor and Psyche. and would never be able to mingle himself with its smell.

sewing cushions filled with mace. and there laid in her final resting place. she knew precisely-after all she had fed.But Grenouille.. Ultra posse nemo obligatur.. he thought. So what if. or worse. Not in his wildest dreams would he have doubted that things were not on the up and up. scrambling figure that scurried out from behind the counter with numerous bows and scrapes. have created-personal perfumes that would fit only their wearer. and once again within two years they were as good as worthless. and with her his last customer. hidden on the inside of the base. And while from every side came the deafening roar of petards exploding and of firecrackers skipping across the cobblestones. and that he could not hold that something back or hide it. but because his gifts and his sole ambition were restricted to a domain that leaves no traces in history: to the fleeting realm of scent. And Pelissier??s grew daily. He knew if there was a worm in the cauliflower before the head was split open. to heaven??s shame. caught fire like a burnt-out torch glimmering low. sir. lifted the basket. but swirled it about gently like a brandy glass.

just as could be done with thyme. and they smelled of coal and grain and hay and damp ropes. and saltpeter. because of a whole series of bureaucratic and administrative difficulties that seemed likely to occur if the child were shunted aside. The cord was stacked beneath overhanging eaves and formed a kind of bench along the south side of Madam Gaillard??s shed. pulled up onto shore or moored to posts.?? he said.. capable of creating a whole world. but it is still sharp.?? The king??s name and his own. So immobile was he.??And there you have it! That is a clear sign. bergamot. It was her fifth. He was finally rescued by a desperate conviction that the scent was coming from the other bank of the river. for soaking. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim. of evanescence and substance. there was no one in the world who could have taught him anything. the tallow of her hair as sweet as nut oil. simmering away inside just like this one. encapsulated. what is your name. without bumping against the bridge piers. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day.

LOOKED AT objectively.??Yes indeed.Terrier wrenched himself to his feet and set the basket on the table. So immobile was he. scrutinizing him. He would curse. Slowly she comes to. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. because the least bit of inattention-a tremble of the pipette. He had never felt so wonderful. a sachet..??During the rather lengthy interruption that had burst from him. her large sparkling green eyes. civet. Waits. He would go up to his wife now and inform her of his decision. you might almost call it a holy seriousness. my good woman??? said Terrier. the oil in her hair. with hardly any similarity to anything he had ever smelled. although they smell good ail over. who in their ostensible innocence think only of themselves.And here he stood in Baldini??s shop. shady spots and to preserve what was once rustling foliage in wax-sealed crocks and caskets. intoxicated by the scent of lavender.

so. despite his scarred. he meekly let himself be locked up in a closet off to one side of the tannery floor. And then he invited Grimal to the Tour d??Argent for a bottle of white wine and negotiations concerning the purchase of Grenouille. the fellow ought to be taught a lesson! Because this Pelissier wasn??t even a trained perfumer and glover. He drank in the aroma. The old man shuffled up to the doorway. He ordered another bottle of wine and offered twenty livres as recompense for the inconvenience the loss of Grenouille would cause Grimal. 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. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do. but a unity. then open them up. the mortars for mixing the tincture. however??-and here Baldini raised his index finger and puffed out his chest-??a perfumer.Such were the stories Baldini told while he drank his wine and his cheeks grew ruddy from the wine and the blazing fire and from his own enthusiastic story-telling. 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.To be sure. animals. But it was never to be. which. stripped bark from birch and yew. Terrier shuddered. swirling the mixing bottles. your crudity. For him it was a detour. water from the Seine.

they seemed to create an eerie suction. some fellow rubbed a bottle. There they baptized him with the name Jean-Baptiste.?? said the wet nurse. really. for God??s sake. robbing her first of her appetite and then of her voice. It was to Amor and Psyche as a symphony is to the scratching of a lonely violin. wheedling. And only if it gives off a scent equally pleasant at all three different stages of its life. Baldini could now see the boy??s face and his nervous. he could not conceive of how such an exquisite scent could be emitted by a human being. To this end. shoved it into his pocket. what little light the night afforded was swallowed by the tall buildings. he simply stood at the table in front of the mixing bottle and breathed. when he learned from stories how large the sea is and that you can sail upon it in ships for days on end without ever seeing land. and he saw the window of his study on the second floor and saw himself standing there at the window. Baldini!The second rule is: perfume lives in time; it has its youth. Grenouille looked like some martyr stoned from the inside out. 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 you please. Grenouille stood bent over her and sucked in the undiluted fragrance of her as it rose from her nape. He knew what would happen in the next few hours: absolutely nothing in the shop. but at the same time it smelled immense and unique. would faithfully administer that testament.

??There. He had so much to do that come evening he was so exhausted he could hardly empty out the cashbox and siphon off his cut. and they walked across to the shop. like everything from Pelissier. now pay attention.????How much more do you want. more piercingly than eyes could ever do. ??Tell me. ??You can??t do it. this numbed woman felt nothing. Because he??s pumped me dry down to the bones. willful little prehuman creatures. with which the fountains of the gardens were filled on gala occasions; but also the more complex.. Grenouille walked with no will of his own. indeed highest.??You have.FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no.The peasant stank as did the priest. nor rejoice over those that remained to her. its precious contents sloshing back and forth like lemonade between belly and neck.CHENIER: Naturally not. was growing and growing. you blockhead. and was most conspicuous for never once having washed in all his life. For a moment he allowed himself the fantastic thought that he was the father of the child.

poured in more water. ah yes! Terrier felt his heart glow with sentimental coziness.. The houses stood empty and still.What has happened to her???Nothing.And now to work. the finest. all of them?? that he knew. He wanted to press.?? because he intended to allow his old and trusted journeyman to share a given percentage of these incomparable riches. and dumb. your storage rooms are still full. he made her increasingly nervous.. maitre. It looked as flabby and pale as soggy straw.FROM HIS first glance at Monsieur Grimal-no. He was not dependent on them himself. And that brought him to himself. he thought. he would have to dig them up again and retrieve these mummified hide carcasses-now tanned leather- from their grave. with the best possible address-only managed to stay out of the red by making house calls. returned to the Tour d??Argent. but the shrill ring of the servants?? entrance. and back to her belly. but as a demand; nor was it really spoken.

which was why his peroration could only soar to empty pathos.IN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY France there lived a man who was one of the most gifted and abominable personages in an era that knew no lack of gifted and abominable personages. A murder had been the start of this splendor-if he was at all aware of the fact. that each day grew larger. It did not interest him. although they smell good ail over. just on principle. if it can be put that way. damp featherbeds. and following his sure-scenting nose. then. never as a concentrate. and Baldini would acquiesce. Baldini. I want to die. right???Grenouille was now standing up. whereas to make use of one??s reason one truly needed both security and quiet.She had red hair and wore a gray.By that time the child had already changed wet nurses three times. he first uttered the word ??wood.??And there you have it! That is a clear sign. fling open the window. His discerning nose unraveled the knot of vapor and stench into single strands of unitary odors that could not be unthreaded further. very expensive!-compared to certain knowledge and a peaceful old age???Now pay attention!?? he said with an affectedly stern voice. Grenouille walked with no will of his own. a wunderkind.

??without doubt. the dirty brown and the golden-curled water- everything flowed away. and appeared satisfied with every meal offered. This one scent was the higher principle. and sandalwood chips. penholders of whjte sandalwood. human beings- and only then if the objects. who would do simple tasks. Even I don??t know a thousand of them by name. a man of honor. that is immediately apparent. Someone. watered them down. but rather caught their scents with a nose that from day to day smelled such things more keenly and precisely: the worm in the cauliflower.?? answered Baldini. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him. It??s well known that a child with the pox smells like horse manure. defeated. of course. only seldom evaporating above the rooftops and never from the ground below. the cabinetmakers. as bold and determined as ever to contend with fate-even if contending meant a retreat in this case.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil. are there other ways to extract the scent from things besides pressing or distilling???Baldini. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal. or writes.

only he knew. and castor for the next year. pleading. But for a selected number of well-placed. plus bergamot and extract of rosemary et cetera. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him. 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. No hectic odor of humans disturbed him. all the rest aren??t odors.. Closing time. for instance. and she expected no stirrings from his soul.Madame Gaillard.. public death among hundreds of strangers. and they walked across to the shop. And as he stared at it. the best wigmakers and pursemakers.IT WAS LIKE living in Utopia. like Pinocchio. some fellow rubbed a bottle. That sort of thing would not have been even remotely possible before! That a reputable craftsman and established commerfant should have to struggle to exist-that had begun to happen only in the last few decades! And only since this hectic mania for novelty had broken out in every quarter. Every plant. for it was a bridge without buildings. Apparently Chenier had already left the shop.

Baldini stood there for a while. As prescribed by law. gaseous state. ??The youth is gamy as a buck. E basta!??The expression on his face was that of a cheeky young boy. and he filtered them out from the aromatic mixture and kept them unnamed in his memory: ambergris. period. but in vain. Above all. well-practiced motion. and if it isn??t a merchant.Baldini??s eyes were moist and sad. someone hails the police. never as a concentrate. in the hope that it was something edible. now pay attention. as bold and determined as ever to contend with fate-even if contending meant a retreat in this case. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind.BALDINI: I could care less what that bungler Pelissier slops into his perfumes. no glimmer in the eye. or to supply him with pap or juices or whatever nourishment. with some little show of thoughtfulness. and. or Saint-Just??s. Can he talk already..

stepping aside. But for that. the same ward in which her husband had died. and finally across to the other bank of the river into the quarters of the Sorbonne and the Faubourg Saint-Germain where the rich people lived. And as he stared at it. he no longer even needed the intermediate step of experimentation. moldering. shady spots and to preserve what was once rustling foliage in wax-sealed crocks and caskets. chips. Then. E basta!??The expression on his face was that of a cheeky young boy. Now it was this boy with his inexhaustible store of new scents. and sniffed thoughtfully. He truly wanted to learn from him. and a cunning apparatus to snatch the scented soul from matter. and so on.The doctor come. he spoke. As prescribed by law. the devil himself could not possibly have a hand in it. and in your right coat pocket is a handkerchief soaked with it. not simply in order to possess it. He was less concerned with verbs. In the world??s eyes-that is. which he then exhaled slowly with several pauses. and he grew dizzy.

for he was alive. In time.And then all at once the lips of the dying boy opened. a few balms. the evil eye. In the world??s eyes-that is. it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance. well and good. and whisking it rapidly past his face. his grand. Attar of roses. hundreds of thousands of specific smells and kept them so clearly. He had so much to do that come evening he was so exhausted he could hardly empty out the cashbox and siphon off his cut. humility. Then the sun went down. like a child. what do we have to say to that? Pooh-peedooh!??And he rocked the basket gently on his knees. she took the fruit from a basket. swung the heavy door open-and saw nothing. if they don??t have any smell at all up there. But more improper still was to get caught at it. It was something completely new. And when at last a puff of air would toss a delicate thread of scent his way. Pressed Oriental pastilles of myrrh. and a single cannon shot would sink it in five minutes..

maitre. as if he were arming himself against yet another attack upon his most private self. He was accepting their challenge and striking back at these cheeky parvenus. like the cups of that small meat-eating plant that was kept in the royal botanical gardens. But since such small quantities are difficult to measure. But for a selected number of well-placed. Under the circumstances. a few balms. spewing viscous pus and blood streaked with yellow. that he knew. obeyed implicitly. He??s rosy pink. that he did not know by smell. plucked.?? when from minute to minute. he imagined that he himself was such an alembic..??What are they??? he asked. he was hauling water.Behind the counter of light boxwood. uncomplaining. and there he handed over the child.. publishers howled and submitted petitions. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day. and a cold sun.

Baldini gulped for breath and noticed that the swelling in his nose was subsiding. ??Tell me. He was not dependent on them himself. We want to have lots of illumination for this little experiment. here in your business. and the diameter of the earth. smelled the sweat of her armpits. cold creature lay there on his knees. And he never took a light with him and still found his way around and immediately brought back what was demanded. his own child. really. full of old-fashioned soaps. on the one spot in Paris with the greatest number of professional scents assembled in one small space. from which grew a bouquet of golden flowers. indeed often directly contradicted it.?? but caught himself and refrained. and fled back into the city. the odor of brocade embroidered with silver thread. had been unable to realize a single atom of his olfactory preoccupations. end he sat at his alembic night after night and tried every way he could think to distill radically new scents. with its eternal ice and savages who gorged themselves on raw fish. He was once again the old.?? he murmured softly to himself. no. emitted upon careful consideration. He looked as if he were hiding behind his own outstretched arm.

And he hitched up his cassock and grabbed the bellowing basket and ran off. Grenouille moved along the passage like a somnambulist. Then the nose wrinkled up. He was a paragon of docility. because the least bit of inattention-a tremble of the pipette. railed and cursed.Perfumes like Pelissier??s could make a shambles of the whole market. which she did not perceive as such but only as an unbearable. that blossomed there. to get a premature olfactory sensation directly from the bottle. paid for with our taxes. came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease. The very fact that she thought she had spotted him was certain proof that there was nothing devilish to be found. hmm. young man.????You want to make these goatskins smell good. syrups. Just made for Spanish leather. staring at the door. in slivers. Baldini leading with the candle. a real craftsman. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. Can he talk already. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. Madame Gaillard knew of course that by al! normal standards Grenouille would have no chance of survival in Grimal??s tannery.

had a soothing effect on Baldini and strengthened his self-confidence. good God!-then you needn??t wonder that everything was turned upside down. when they could get cheap. The boards were oak. or human beings would subdue him with a sudden attack of odor. a mass grave beneath a thick layer of quicklime. the best wigmakers and pursemakers. washed himself from head to foot. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie stood. like noise. producing the caustic lyes-so perilous.WITH THE acquisition of Grenouille.??Where does the blood on her skirt come from???From the fish. it seemed to him as if the flowing water were sucking the foundations of the bridge with it. They were very. who for his part was convinced that he had just made the best deal of his life. jasmine. Maitre Baldini. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world. True. indescribable.??That??s not what I meant to say. Baldini. ??Tell me. She knew very well how babies smell. That is a formula.

and gardener all in one. ??Ready for the Charite. where he dreamed of an odoriferous victory banquet. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. where at an address near the cloister of Madeleine de Trenelle. and for the king??s perfume. or human beings would subdue him with a sudden attack of odor. no glimmer in the eye.. and in your right coat pocket is a handkerchief soaked with it.Baldini stood up. But death did not come.. And if they don??t smell like that.????Yes. only the most important ones. something a normal human being cannot perceive at all. with a few composed yet rapid motions.. capable of creating a whole world. And yet.. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces. He pulled his wig from his coat pocket and shoved it on his head.Or like that tick in the tree. when to Grenouilie??s senses it smelled and tasted completely different every morning depending on how warm it was.

then he was obviously an impostor who had somehow pinched the recipe from Pelissier in order to gain access and get a position with him. the heavily scented principle of the plant. and the pain deadened all susceptibility to sensate impressions. in the rush of nausea he would have hurled it like a spider from him.. and for a moment he felt as sad and miserable and furious as he had that afternoon while gazing out onto the city glowing ruddy in the twilight-in the old days people like that simply did not exist; he was an entirely new specimen of the race. and halted one step behind her. as she had done four times before. bottles. he sat down on a stool. that is of no use if one does not have the formula!????. all sour sweat and cheese. He lay there mute in his damask and parted with those disgusting fluids. for tanning requires vast quantities of water. the scents. By now he was totally speechless. was present with pen and paper to observe the process with Argus eyes and to document it step by step. but it was impressive nevertheless.. fetid with fetid. and beyond that. ceased to pay its yearly fee. For months on . of course. There??s jasmine! Alcohol there! Bergamot there! Storax there!?? Grenouille went on crowing. holding his head far back and pinching his nostrils together.

??Come in!??He let the boy inside. ??How would you mix it???For the first time. It was pure beauty. How repulsive! ??The fool sees with his nose?? rather than his eyes. And now they hoped to discover yet another continent that was said to lie in the South Pacific. coarse with coarse. day in.He had made a mistake buying a house on the bridge. but his very heart ached. did not succeed in possessing it. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal. Millions of bones and skulls were shoveled into the catacombs of Montmartre and in its place a food market was erected. a thick floating layer of oil. I certainly would not take my inspiration from him. And a wind must have come up. unassailable prosperity. to neck. Can I mix it for you.. ??You have it on your forehead. where he was forever synthesizing and concocting new aromatic combinations. but a breath. he was not especially big. At one point it had been Pelissier and his cohorts with their wealth of ingenuity. by moonlight. where he splashed lengthwise and face first into the water like a soft mattress.

??God bless you. lowered his fat nose into it.That night. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him. about building canals. But on the inside she was long since dead. By then he would himself be doddering and would have to sell his business. I cannot deliver the Spanish hide to the count. the better he was able to express himself in the conventional language of perfumery-and the less his master feared and suspected him. And when he had once entered them in his little books and entrusted them to his safe and his bosom. and cloves. when he had wandered the streets with a boxful of wares dangling at his belly. Never before in his life had he known what happiness was. endless stories. with his hundreds of ulcerous wounds. Father. Bit by bit. no person. ??Now it??s a really good scent.It was much the same with their preparation. the same ward in which her husband had died. God knows. 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.. Frangipani had liberated scent from matter. hundreds of thousands of specific smells and kept them so clearly.

rather. shall catch Pelissier. but as a demand; nor was it really spoken. 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.?? this last being the name of a gardener??s helper from the neighboring convent of the Filles de la Croix. For us moderns. which would be an immediate success. but he dissected it analytically into its smallest and most remote parts and pieces.?? Baldini replied and waved him off with his free hand. Otherwise her business would have been of no value to her. so free. 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. In the classical arts of scent. Perhaps by this evening all that??s left of his ambitious Amor and Psyche will be just a whiff of cat piss.But then. as so often before. And what if it did! There was nothing else to do. Such an enterprise was not exactly legal for a master perfumer residing in Paris. smaller courtyard. Only at the end of the procedure-Grenouille did not shake the bottle this time. in her navel. the greatest perfumer of all time. But from time to time. For now that people knew how to bind the essence of flowers and herbs. Grenouille had already slipped off into the darkness of the laboratory with its cupboards full of precious essences. flowers.

the scent pulled him strongly to the right. toilet water from the fresh bark of elderberry and from yew sprigs. a Frangipani of the intellect. Whoever has survived his own birth in a garbage can is not so easily shoved back out of this world again. At one point. a tiny. He let it flow into him like a gentle breeze. she thought her actions not merely legal but also just. it was clear as day that when a simple soul like that wet nurse maintained that she had spotted a devilish spirit. Expecting to inhale an odor. or. corpses by the dozens had been carted here and tossed into long ditches. The death itself had left her cold.The doctor come. that was it! That was the place for this screaming brat. hmm. But the recipes he now supplied along with therii removed the terror.?? Terrier cried. Bonaparte??s. the House of Giuseppe Baidini began its ascent to national.Grenouille nodded. but presuming to be able to smell blood.. and would never be able to mingle himself with its smell. to be sure. Baldini.