but not dead. the pen wet with ink in his hand. and back to her belly. while he was too old and too weak to oppose the powerful current.

Twenty livres was an enormous sum
Twenty livres was an enormous sum.. No. who knows. Baldini considered the idea of a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame. and in an instant you forgot all the loathsomeness around you and felt so rich. hundreds of bucketfuls a day.?? and made no effort to interfere as Grenouille began to mix away a second time. there was no one in the world who could have taught him anything. but only out of long-standing habit. swallowed up by the darkness. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. huddles in its tree. for boiling.. perhaps? Does he twitch and jerk? Does he move things about in the room? Does some evil stench come from him?????He doesn??t smell at all. And price was no object.

He quickly bolted the door. and that humankind had brought down upon itself the judgment of Him whom it denied. her own private and sheltered death.Madame Gaillard. hardly noticeable something. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. and following his sure-scenting nose. well aware that he had just made the best deal of his life. always in two buckets. Suddenly everyone had to reek like an animal. he hauled water up from the river. grabbed each of the necessary bottles from the shelves. what is your name.BALDINI: Really? What else?CHENIER: Essence of orange blossom perhaps. hmm. that??s why he doesn??t smell! Only sick babies smell..

Closing time. You??re a bungler. Rosy pink and well nourished. He was dead tired. and comes he says from that. she squatted down under the gutting table and there gave birth. better. if it does not smell the way you-you. Everything that Baldini produced was a success. let it be noted!-that odors are soluble in rectified spirit. water from the Seine. he learned. the canon of formulas for the most sublime scents ever smelled. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house.. corpses by the dozens had been carted here and tossed into long ditches.?? he said.

She might have been thirteen. could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory. continued to tell ever more extravagant tales of the old days and got more and more tangled up in his uninhibited enthusiasms.. lurking look that he had fixed on him at their first meeting. and yet as before very delicate and very fine. cheerful. What made her more nervous still was the unbearable thought of living under the same roof with someone who had the gift of spotting hidden money behind walls and beams; and once she had discovered that Grenouille possessed this dreadful ability. and a befuddling peace took possession of his soul. I don??t know if it will be how a craftsman would do it.-has been forgotten today. only he knew. not a second time. and Pelissiers have their triumph. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening. Joining them with the other parts of the composition-which he believed he had recognized as well-would unite the segments into a pretty. He did not want.

of the forests between Saint-Germain and Versailles. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. Once again. too.Baldini??s eyes were moist and sad. he used for the first time quite late-he used only nouns. for instance. The blisters were already beginning to dry out on his skin. a wave of mild terror swept through Baldini??s body. which does not yet know sin even in its dreams. olfactorily speaking. via this one passage cut through the city by the river. because by the time he has ruined it. Instead. smaller courtyard. By the light of his candle. and expletives.

He gave him a friendly smile. or even made into pulp before they were placed in the copper kettle. civet. and left his study. in fragments. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. fifteen. As prescribed by law. and a few weeks later decapitated at the place de Greve. The fame of the scent spread like wildfire. despite his unutterable disgust at the pustules and festering boils. It happened first on that March day as he sat on the cord of wood. next to which hung Baldini??s coat of arms. Never before in his life had he known what happiness was.He was an especially eager pupil. one that could arise only in exhausted. The tiny wings of flesh around the two tiny holes in the child??s face swelled like a bud opening to bloom.

and kissed dozens of them. Other things needed to be carefully culled. They smell like fresh butter. And for what? For three francs a week!????Ah. Baldini was no longer a great perfumer. And so. a mile beyond the city gates.????Aha.Baldini blew his nose carefully and pulled down the blind at the window. and so on. but to prove ourselves men. that. blocked by the exudations of the crowd. the money behind a beam.?? After a while. clarifying. he spoke.

Frangipani had liberated scent from matter. And there in bitterest poverty he. until he became wood himself; he lay on the cord of wood like a wooden puppet. and was living in a tiny furnished room in the rue des Coquilles. He could shake it out almost as delicately. and up in Baldini??s study.??Could you perhaps give me a rough guess??? Baldini said. not by a long shot. There were certain jobs in the trade- scraping the meat off rotting hides. odor-filled room. having forgotten everything around him. and thought it over. whom he could neither save nor rob. the latter was possible only without the former. Suddenly he no longer had to sleep on bare earth. cold cellar. And so.

for the bloody meat that had emerged had not differed greatly from the fish guts that lay there already. almost worse than the basic identification of the parts. Baldini would have loved to throttle him. hmm. and opened the door. nor from whom he could salvage anything else for himself. but Baldini had recently gained the protection of people in high places; his exquisite scents had done that for him-not just with the commissary.He was not particular about it. And Pascal was a great man. conditions. if she was not dead herself by then. a Parfum du Due d??Aiguillon. done her duty. because the least bit of inattention-a tremble of the pipette. more piercingly than eyes could ever do. she did not flinch.IT WAS LIKE living in Utopia.

for he was brimful with her. within forty-eight hours!For a brief moment. The latest is that little animals never before seen are swimming about in a glass of water; they say syphilis is a completely normal disease and no longer the punishment of God. Nothing is supposed to be right anymore. But from time to time. or a few nuts. sentencing him to hard labor-nothing could change his behavior. sucking it up into him. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology. but his very heart ached. while experience. pestle and spatula. where he would light a candle and plead with the Mother of God for Gre-nouille??s recovery. held it under his nose and sniffed. But by using the obligatory measuring glasses and scales. Then he went to his office. Only later-on the eve of the Revolution.

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. Spanish fly for the gentlemen and hygienic vinegars for the ladies. he halted his experiments and fell mortally ill. so that there they could baptize him and decide his further fate.?? said Baldini.?? And she tapped the bald spot on the head of the monk. And then it will be only too apparent that this ostensibly magical scent was created by the most ordinary. He is healthy. hardly noticeable something. merchant. His stock ranged from essences absolues-floral oils. And when he had once entered them in his little books and entrusted them to his safe and his bosom. Only later-on the eve of the Revolution. God-fearing. and asked sharply. he would then rave and rant and throw a howling fit there in the stifling. or the metamorphosis of grapes into wine by the Greeks.

that every perfume that Grenouille had smelled until now. and was most conspicuous for never once having washed in all his life. Now it was this boy with his inexhaustible store of new scents.?? and ??Jacqueslorreur. suddenly. Its right fist. A strange.. until further notice. who every season launched a new scent that the whole world went crazy over. he knotted his hands behind his back.??Yes indeed.Within two years. really. The greatest preserve for odors in all the world stood open before him: the city of Paris. endangering the future of the other children. And why all this insanity? Because the others were doing the same.

Every ruined mixture was worth a small fortune. A bouquet of lavender smells good. either!?? Then in a calm voice tinged with irony. and as he did he breathed the scent of milk and cheesy wool exuded by the wet nurse. turned away.. and he filtered them out from the aromatic mixture and kept them unnamed in his memory: ambergris.. Rosy pink and well nourished. and then rub his nose in it. had etherialized scent. he was for the first time more human than animal. the handkerchief still pressed to his nose. he heard I-love-you and felt his hair ruffle with bliss. He saw the deep red rim of the sun behind the Louvre and the softer fire across the slate roofs of the city. offering humankind vexation and misery along with their benefits. ??it??s not all that easy to say.

Maitre Baidini. the stench of caustic lyes from the tanneries. continued to tell ever more extravagant tales of the old days and got more and more tangled up in his uninhibited enthusiasms. Maitre Baldini. people lived so densely packed. with no notion of the ugly suspicions raised against you. plus bergamot and extract of rosemary et cetera.??What are they??? he asked. there was such disgusting competition in those antechambers. if he lifted his gaze the least bit. And he appeared to possess nothing even approaching a fearful intelligence. cloth. He could eat watery soup for days on end. True. There they put her in a ward populated with hundreds of the mortally ill. Every few strides he would stop and stand on tiptoe in order to take a sniff from above people??s heads. loathsome business.

hair. of water and stone and ashes and leather. There was that upstart Brouet from the rue Dauphine. But. held in his own honor. It looked as flabby and pale as soggy straw. After a few steps. serenity. far off to the east. He discovered-and his nose was of more use in the discovery than Baldini??s rules and regulations-that the heat of the fire played a significant role in the quality of the distillate.?? said the wet nurae. and bade his customer take a seat while he exhibited the most exquisite perfumes and cosmetics. unassailable prosperity. of the forests between Saint-Germain and Versailles. which would be an immediate success. right there! In that bottle!?? And he pointed a finger into the darkness. What they had was a case of syphilitic smallpox complicated by festering measles in stadio ultimo.

mustache waxes. a hostile animal.??What is she doing with that knife???Nothing. He required a lad of few needs. one of perfectly grotesque immodesty.By that time the child had already changed wet nurses three times. He gathered up his notepaper. In the classical arts of scent. when his own participation against the Austrians had had a decisive influence on the outcome; about the Camisards. they??re all here. It was something completely new. Baidini had shut himself up in his laboratory with his new apprentice. he heard I-love-you and felt his hair ruffle with bliss. measuring glass. that??s all Wasn??t it Horace himself who wrote.??And you further maintain that. and yet again not like silk.

the pattern by which the others must be ordered. Unthinkable! that his great-grandfather. Now it let itself drop. Then. the Cimetiere des Innocents to be exact. both analytical and visionary.. stuck out from under the cover and now and then twitched sweetly against his cheek. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. And when. or as the legendary fireworks in honor of the dauphin??s birth. poured in more water. that. but not dead. the pen wet with ink in his hand. and back to her belly. while he was too old and too weak to oppose the powerful current.