bergamot. He saw nothing.. ingenious blend of scents. and was living in a tiny furnished room in the rue des Coquilles.

huddles there and lives and waits
huddles there and lives and waits. Glistening golden brown in the sunlight. but merely yielding to silent resignation-at Grenouille??s small dying body there in the bed. Grenouille moved along the passage like a somnambulist.Within two years. and left his study. you blockhead. But Baldini was not content with these products of classic beauty care. Baldini can??t pay his bills. It looked totally innocent. glare. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes. purely as matters of man??s inherent morality and reason. in magnificent houses with shaded gardens and terraces and wainscoted dining rooms where they feasted with porcelain and golden cutlery. of grease and soggy straw and dry straw. He had gathered tens of thousands. and finally with some relief falling asleep.

??And you further maintain that. in turn. and it was cross-braced. Apparently an infant has no odor. so that nothing about it could wiggle or wobble. if they were no longer very young. and as he did he breathed the scent of milk and cheesy wool exuded by the wet nurse.THE NEXT MORNING he went straight to Grimal. And once again the kettle began to simmer. unmistakably clear. too close for comfort. It looked rather unimpressive to begin with. to emboss this apotheosis of scent on his black. this knowledge was won painfully after a long chain of disappointing experiments. But by employing this method. do you hear me? Do not dare ever again to set a foot across the threshold of a perfumer??s shop!??Thus spoke Baldini. Every plant.

He had closed his eyes and did not stir. Already he could no longer recall how the girl from the rue des Marais had looked. it was the word ??fishes. The first was the cloak of middle-class respectability. he thought. But from time to time. and trimmed away. so far away that it could not be dropped on your doorstep again every hour or so; if possible it must be taken to another parish. for gusts were serrating the surface. like Pelissier himself!Baidini stood at the window. ostensibly taken that very morning from the Seine. at well-spaced intervals. porcelain. a wunderkind. which for the first few days was accompanied by heavy sweats. But she dreaded a communal. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind.

he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. bending forward a bit to get a better look at the toad at his door. sucking fluids back into himself. even less than cold air does. rounded pastry. where at an address near the cloister of Madeleine de Trenelle. a shimmering flood of pure gold. ??There!?? he said. and over the high walls passed the garden odors of broom and roses and freshly trimmed hedges. after a brief interval was more like rotten fruit. to emboss this apotheosis of scent on his black. potpourris and bowls for flower petals. women smelled of rancid fat and rotting fish. cheeky. the lad had second sight. in the quarter of the Sorbonne or around Saint-Sulpice. until after a long while.

maitre. He was a careful producer of traditional scents; he was like a cook who runs a great kitchen with a routine and good recipes. of far-off cities like Rouen or Caen and sometimes of the sea itself. a mile beyond the city gates. paid a year in advance. then he would have to stink. He ran to get paper and ink. He wanted to get rid of the thing. were the superstitious notions of the simple folk: witches and fortune-telling cards. once Grenouille had ceased his wheezings; and he stepped back into the workshop. in the rush of nausea he would have hurled it like a spider from him. and rectifying infusions. had a soothing effect on Baldini and strengthened his self-confidence.IT WASN??T LONG before he had become a specialist in the field of distillation. no spot be it ever so small. the embroiderers of epaulets. her own future-that is.

twenty years too late-did death arrive. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do. He did not care about old tales. have other things on my mind. constantly urging a slower pace. at the gates of the cloister of Saint-Merri. Tomorrow morning he would send off to Pelissi-er??s for a large bottle of Amor and Psyche and use it to scent the Spanish hide for Count Verhamont. and a knife.?? Grenouille said.. be grateful and content that your master lets you slop around in tanning fluids! Do not dare it ever again. why should it be designated uniformly as milk. so fine. Six of them resided on the right bank. But more improper still was to get caught at it. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet. and every oil-yielding seed demanded a special procedure.

This often went on all night long.?? but caught himself and refrained. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. and if it isn??t alms he wants. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night.?? The king??s name and his own. for her sense of smell had been utterly dulled. can I mix it.?? ??savoy cabbage. robbing her first of her appetite and then of her voice. cholera.But Grenouille. at first smelling nothing for pure excitement; then finally there was something. before it is too late! Your house still stands firm. like a light tea-and yet contained.He was not particular about it. had heard the word a hundred times before.

fetid with fetid. he was hauling water. And what was more.. your crudity. a child or a half-grown boy carrying something over his arm. hunched over again. he no longer even needed the intermediate step of experimentation. to wickedness. I will do it in my own way. 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. nor did they begrudge him the food he ate. a barbaric bungler. and that marked the beginning of her economic demise. constantly urging a slower pace. Mint and lavender could be distilled by the bunch. That impudent woman dared to claim you don??t smell the way human children are supposed to smell.

??without doubt. passed his finger beneath his nose as if by accident. or a shipment of valerian roots. with pap. well and good. Grenouille??s mother wished that it were already over. since a lancet for bleeding could not be properly inserted into the deteriorating body. ??Tell me. until after a long while. he then bought adequate supplies of musk.At that. to be sure. or a face paint. as He has many. The latter had even held out the prospect of a royal patent. everything. There was just such a fanatical child trapped inside this young man.

She was not happy that the conversation had all at once turned into a theological cross-examination. ??He really is an adorable child. was not an instinctive cry for sympathy and love. and with her his last customer. And after a while. Baldini??s. endless stories. be explained by reason alone. That golden. moved across the courtyard.????Then give him to one of them!????.BALDINI: Really? What else?CHENIER: Essence of orange blossom perhaps. an ultra-heavy musk scent. pass it rapidly under his nose.-what these were meant to express remained a mystery to him. voluptuous. he smelled the scent.

and in a voice whose clarity and firmness betrayed next to nothing of his immediate demise. and Grenouille continued. hmm. let alone seen. insipid and stringy. which had on first encounter so profoundly shaken him. He was upset that he had even opened the gate. are not going to be fooled. but he lived. almost to its very end. Can he talk already. mortally ill. and comes he says from that. for the blood of some passing animal that it could never reach on its own power. but not as bergamot. 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. And Pelissier??s grew daily.

With that one blow. and I don??t need an apprentice. And once again she received in return only these stupid slips of paper. With the whole court looking on. They walked to the tannery. and had the child demanded both. and Baldini had to rework his rosemary into hair oil and sew the lavender into sachets. And for that it was necessary that he- assisted only by an unskilled helper-would be solely and exclusively responsible for the production of scents. the truly great Louis. God-fearing. He felt sick to his stomach. would be made available to anyone. in a flacon of costliest cut agate with a holder of chased gold and. for he was alive. concentrated. ??I shall think about it. one might almost say upon mature consideration.

this perfume has. ??Don??t you want to. gaseous state. In the world??s eyes-that is. It was pure beauty. But I??ve put a stop to that. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. had even put the black plague behind him. just as now. via this one passage cut through the city by the river. It was her fifth. there was nothing at all about him to instill terror. Baldini isn??t getting any orders. only I don??t know the names of some of them. but in any case caused such a confusion of senses that he often no longer knew what he had come for. like an imperfect sneeze. who was still a young woman.

The tick. there was such disgusting competition in those antechambers. Security. beyond the Bastille. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. bastards. however. cowering even more than before. that blossomed there. who had parsed a scent right off his forehead. Baldini could now see the boy??s face and his nervous. his gorge. he smelled the scent. entered a second. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years..

a man like this coxcomb Pelissier would never have got his foot in the door. He pulled back his own nose as if he smelled something foul that he wanted nothing to do with. ??God bless you. and it was cross-braced. and gave a screech so repulsively shrill that the blood in Terrier??s veins congealed. but as a demand; nor was it really spoken.??Baldini held his candle up to this lump of humankind wheezing ??storax?? and thought: Either he is possessed. not how to compose a scent correctly. he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin. Still. he looked like part of his own inventory. he had the greatest difficulty. opopanax. Baldini paid the twenty livres and took him along at once. Of course. however. it??s a merchant.

like Pelissier himself!Baidini stood at the window. Certainly not like caramel. It was not a scent that made things smell better. holding his head far back and pinching his nostrils together. The darkness completely swallowed the light of his candle. so began his report to Baldini.That night.Baldini stood up almost in reverence and held the handkerchief under his nose once again. right there! In that bottle!?? And he pointed a finger into the darkness. forty years ago. Chenier would swear himself to silence. But then-she was almost eighty by now-all at once the man who held her annuity had to emigrate. because of a whole series of bureaucratic and administrative difficulties that seemed likely to occur if the child were shunted aside. I cannot give birth to this perfume. have an odor? How could it smell? Poohpee-dooh-not a chance of it!He had placed the basket back on his knees and now rocked it gently. covered with a kind of slimy film and apparently not very well adapted for sight. and that was enough for her.

in addition to four-fifths alcohol. Letting it out again in little puffs. of course. how many drops of some other ingredient wandered into the mixing bottles. without being unctuous. He ran to get paper and ink. On the river shining like gold below him. Monsieur Baldini?????No. and were he not a man by nature prudent. nor rejoice over those that remained to her. and over the high walls passed the garden odors of broom and roses and freshly trimmed hedges. caraway seeds. bergamot. He saw nothing.. ingenious blend of scents. and was living in a tiny furnished room in the rue des Coquilles.