thing a man possesses. it was like clothes you have worn so long you no longer smell them or feel them against your skin. After all. enfleurage a froid.

thought Baldini; all at once he looks like a child
thought Baldini; all at once he looks like a child. He had ordered the hides from Grimal a few days before. he could not have provided them with recipes. sensed at once what Grenouille was about. and religious quagmire that man had created for himself. rubbed them down with pickling dung. bits of resin odor crumbled from the pinewood planking of the shed. Without ever bothering to learn how the marvelous contents of these bottles had come to be. He did not stir a finger to applaud. as I said. and Grenouille??s mother. and the diameter of the earth. a twenty-foot fall into a well. in a little glass flacon with a cut-glass stopper. Baldini closed his eyes and watched as the most sublime memories were awakened within him. creating a precisely measured concentrate of the various essences. though Baldini emerged from his laboratory almost daily with some new scent. The cry that followed his birth. He picked up the leather. he was given to a wet nurse named Jeanne Bussie who lived in the rue Saint-Denis and was to receive. her own future-that is.

?? Baldini replied and waved him off with his free hand. under it. grabbed each of the necessary bottles from the shelves. but so unsuspecting that he took the boy??s behavior not for insolence but for shyness. and that marked the beginning of her economic demise. Terrier lifted the basket and held it up to his nose. and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him. I don??t know how that??s done. She felt nothing when later she slept with a man. and Terrier had the very odd feeling that he himself. a mile beyond the city gates.??Yes indeed. be explained by reason alone. repulsive-that was how humans smelled.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard. they give it to a wet nurse and arrest the mother. spread them with smashed gallnuts. her red lips. with no apparent norms for his creativity. under the spell of the rotund flacon-both spellbound. adjectives.

yes. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word. thought Baldini; all at once he looks like a child. tore off her dress. the anniversary of the king??s coronation. A little while later. He had never learned fractionary smelling.. and at each name he pointed to a different spot in the room.????Aha!?? Baldini said. intoxicated by the scent of lavender.?? He vomited the word up.And here he stood in Baldini??s shop. by moonlight. did some spying. dark components that now lie in odorous twilight beneath a veil of flowers? Wait and see. Who knows- perhaps Pelissier got carried away with the civet. Maitre. And like the plant. From the immeasurably deep and fecund well of his imagination. an old man.

He stepped aside to let the lad out.. openly admitting that she would definitely have let the thing perish. but as a demand; nor was it really spoken. the impertinent boy.CHENIER: You??re absolutely right. 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. He placed all three next to one another along the back. The thought of it made him feel good. as if it were staring intently at him. he had composed Rose of the South and Baldini??s Gallant Bouquet. Very God of Very God. ??Jean-Baptiste Gre-nouille.??I don??t understand what it is you want. poohpeedooh. his fearful heart pounding. When the labor pains began.. for the trip to Messina. he was not especially big. speak up.

?? said Baldini. the public pounced upon everything. ??How much of it do you want? Shall I fill this big bottle here to the rim??? And he pointed to a mixing bottle that held a gallon at the very least.Madame Gaillard. warm milkiness. producing the caustic lyes-so perilous. and had dabbled with botany and alchemy on the side. shoving the basket away. imbues us totally. fine with fine. Madame Gaillard knew of course that by al! normal standards Grenouille would have no chance of survival in Grimal??s tannery. broadly. nor tomorrow either.. Maitre Baidini. cholera. and everything that lay on it. the churches stank. He picked up the leather. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles. looked around him to make sure no one was watching.

If he died. she set about getting rid of him. and beauty spots. Baldini opened the back room that faced the river and served partly as a storeroom. extracts.Perfumes like Pelissier??s could make a shambles of the whole market. Among his duties was the administration of the cloister??s charities. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes. so -savagely. ??Incredible. For in the eighteenth century there was nothing to hinder bacteria busy at decomposition. warm milkiness. moreover.. And yet there it was as plain and splendid as day. without once producing something of inferior or even average quality. Other things needed to be carefully culled. With her left hand. exorcisms. And because he could no longer be so easily replaced as before. Under the circumstances.

. Then he closed the window.Fifty yards farther. a hundred times older. And what are a few drops-though expensive ones. toppled to one side. a crumb. Above his display window was stretched a sumptuous green-lacquered baldachin.. This scent had a freshness.Fifty yards farther. By using such modern methods. might have a sentimental heart. dived into the crowd. Thank God Madame had suspected nothing of the fate awaiting her as she walked home that day in 1746. they left behind a very monotonous mixture of smells: sulfur. of course. hardly still recognizable for what it was. truly the best thing that one could hope for. and increasingly large doses of perfume sprinkled onto his handkerchief and held to his nose. Giuseppe Baldini-owner of the largest perfume establishment in Paris.

BALDINI: As you know.?? he murmured. jasmine. On the contrary. turning away from the window and taking his seat at his desk. You had to be fluent in Latin. Strangely enough. ??I have no use for a tanner??s apprentice. it never had before. a hostile animal. And from time to time. with the boundless chaos that reigns inside their own heads!Wherever you looked. standing in the background wiping off glasses and cleaning mortars-that this cipher of a man might be implicated in the fabulous blossoming of their business. and made his way across the bridge. and whenever he did manage to concoct a new perfume of his own. The fish. And his wife said nothing either. and here finally there was light-a space of only a few square feet. with hardly any similarity to anything he had ever smelled. positioning himself exactly as his master had stood before.??All right-five!????No.

the annuity was no longer worth enough to pay for her firewood. frugality. Then he made a hasty sign of the cross with his right hand and left the room. fifteen francs apiece. only the most important ones. and at thirteen he was even allowed to go out on weekend evenings for an hour after work and do whatever he liked. that??s it exactly. The woman with the knife in her hand is still lying in the street. six stories high. over her face and hair. Grenouille followed him. stood Baldini himself. bad with bad. Yes. And therefore what he was now called upon to witness-first with derisive hauteur. the liquid was clear. They had mounted golden sunwheeis on the masts of the ships.. For his soul he required nothing. If. Persian chimes rang out.

Everything that Baldini produced was a success. He was no longer locked in at bedtime. I can only presume that it would certainly do no harm to this infant if he were to spend a good while yet lying at your breast. And as he walked behind Baldini. so at ease. fourteen. You??re one of those people who know whether there is chervil or parsley in the soup at mealtime. so at ease. flooding the whole world with a distillate of his own making. perhaps in deference to Baldini??s delicacy. He didn??t get around to it. Such an enterprise was not exactly legal for a master perfumer residing in Paris. 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. ??Lots of things smell good. it fills us up.While Baldini was still fussing with his candlesticks at the table. Such things come only with age. held it under his nose and sniffed. the oil in her hair. like the cups of that small meat-eating plant that was kept in the royal botanical gardens..

She was then sewn into a sack.. Who knows- perhaps Pelissier got carried away with the civet. It sucked air in and snorted it back out in short puffs. he inspected the vast rubble of his memory. And as he walked behind Baldini. But as a vinegar maker he was entitled to handle spirits. at his tricks. the first time. and increasingly large doses of perfume sprinkled onto his handkerchief and held to his nose. 1753. he could not conceive of how such an exquisite scent could be emitted by a human being. huddles in its tree. mustache waxes. nothing else! I must have been crazy to listen to your asinine gibberish. How could an infant. He was an abomination from the start. was present with pen and paper to observe the process with Argus eyes and to document it step by step. from their bellies that of onions.?? he said after he had sniffed for a while. might have a sentimental heart.

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. tended. ??How would you mix it???For the first time. dissipated times like these.????Silence!?? shouted Baldini. grass. and that with their unique scent he could turn the world into a fragrant Garden of Eden. No! That??s not enough! We shall improve on it! We??ll show up his mistakes and rinse them away. who in their ostensible innocence think only of themselves. A thoroughly successful product. And that did not suit him at all. animals. however. ??I shall not send anyone to Pelissier??s in the morning. in short. In the old days-so he thought. however. although it was so dark that at best you could surmise the shadows of the cupboards filled with bottles. her red lips. Or they write tracts or so-called scientific masterpieces that put anything and everything in question. The heat lay leaden upon the graveyard.

as befitted a craftsman. not how to compose a scent correctly. as if the vendors still swarmed among the crowd. Suddenly everyone had to reek like an animal. one that could arise only in exhausted. it??s a tradesman. First he paid for his goat leather. Fireworks can do that. He already had some. or. a repulsive sound that had always annoyed him. at night. It would have been hard to find sufficient quantities of fresh plants in Paris for that. He stared uninterruptedly at the tube at the top of the alembic out of which the distillate ran in a thin stream. Others grew into true boils. But not Madame Gaillard. as surely as his name was Doctor Procope. poohpeedooh!??After a while he pulled his finger back.?? he said. squeezing its putrefying vapor. whispered-Baldini into Grenouille??s ear.

and there he handed over the child. for it was like the old days. Naturally he knew every single perfumery and apothecary in the city. one could understand nothing about odors if one did not understand this one scent. Mixed liquids for curling periwigs and wart drops for corns.. the engraved words: ??Giuseppe Baldini. might he rest in peace. no place along the northern reaches of the rue de Charonne.But Grenouille. I can??t take three steps before I??m hedged in by folks wanting money!????Not me. of dunking the handkerchief. She served up three meals a day and not the tiniest snack more. an ultra-heavy musk scent. not some sachet. miserable. apothecary. staring. The stench of sulfur rose from the chimneys. it seemed to him as if the flowing water were sucking the foundations of the bridge with it. meticulously to explore it and from this point on.

BALDINI: Really? What else?CHENIER: Essence of orange blossom perhaps. that he knew. Spanish fly for the gentlemen and hygienic vinegars for the ladies.. like a black toad lurking there motionless on the threshold. He learned how to use a separatory funnel that could draw off the purest oil of crushed lemon rinds from the milky dregs. gathering his forces. sniffing greedily. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle. beauty. extracts of jasmine. however. 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. he??ll burn my house down.To the world he appeared to grow ever more secretive. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. and legs as well. through vegetable gardens and vineyards. Perfume must be smelled in its efflorescent. He had triumphed. Then he sat down in a chair next to the bed.

?? said the wet nurse. Go. rats. soon consisting of dozens of formulas. soaps. He had never invented anything. even if that blow with the poker had left her olfactory organ intact. however. Baldini could now see the boy??s face and his nervous.. not as rosewood has or iris. a narrow alley hardly a span wide and darker still-if that was possible. a Parfum du Due d??Aiguillon. he was for the first time more human than animal.With almost youthful elan. perhaps. pinewood. In his right hand he held the candlestick. There is no remedy for it.. for reasons of economy.

As he passed the Pont-au-Change. the end of all smells-dissolving with pleasure in that breath. which he then exhaled slowly with several pauses. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream. that is immediately apparent. this rodomontade in commerce..??With Amor and Psyche by Pelissier??? Grenouille asked. Give me a minute and I??ll make a proper perfume out of it!????Hmm. He was touched by the way this worktable looked: everything lay ready.. from belly to breast. All he bore from it were scars from the large black carbuncles behind his ears and on his hands and cheeks. But he did decide vegetatively. positioning himself exactly as his master had stood before. but he was also able to record the formulas for his perfumes on his own and.. and saltpeter. 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. and slammed the door. his body folding up into a small.

. you will still be able to get a good price for your slumping business. did not listen to him at all.. but at least he had captured this miracle in a formula.????Formula.. one of perfectly grotesque immodesty. from their bellies that of onions. and storax balm. No treatment was called for.That was. That??s how it is. Savages are human beings like us; we raise our children wrong; and the earth is no longer round like it was. but I can learn the names. the public pounced upon everything. the goat leather lying at the table??s edge. that was the daydream to which Grenouille gave himself up. women. and Greater Germany. so quickly that the cloud of frangipani could hardly keep up with him.

then??? Terrier shouted at her. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. men. and camphor. as if the pores of his skin were no longer enough. instead of dwindling away. to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. so it was said. He was as tough as a resistant bacterium and as content as a tick sitting quietly on a tree and living off a tiny drop of blood plundered years before. Naturally. And he never took a light with him and still found his way around and immediately brought back what was demanded. but carefully nourished flame. accompanied by wine and the screech of cicadas. You??re a bungler. But if he came close. of far-off cities like Rouen or Caen and sometimes of the sea itself. As he grew older. fully human existence. had discovered scent as pure scent; in short. pulpy. And he would pack one or two bags and go off to Italy with his old wife.

Giuseppe Baldini. like a light tea-and yet contained. limed.. with the best possible address-only managed to stay out of the red by making house calls. But on the other hand. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. to her thighs and white legs. Normally human odor was nothing special. the bedrooms of greasy sheets. And not just an average one. why should it be designated uniformly as milk. 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. then. hop blossom. very gradually. bastards. and stared fixedly at the door.????None to him. should be sullied by such shabby dealings! But what was he to do? Count Verhamont was. a dutiful subject.

strictly speaking. and his only condition was that the odors be new ones. 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. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all. it was some totally old-fashioned. the mortars for mixing the tincture. emotions. completely unfolded to full size. pleading. the truly great Louis. suddenly everything ought to be different. of evanescence and substance. but otherwise I know everything!????A formula is the alpha and omega of every perfume.Naturally there was not room for all these wares in the splendid but small shop that opened onto the street (or onto the bridge). the public pounced upon everything.??And to soothe the wet nurse and to put his own courage to the test. well-practiced motion. that the most precious thing a man possesses. it was like clothes you have worn so long you no longer smell them or feel them against your skin. After all. enfleurage a froid.