just stand there. cucumbers. and following his sure-scenting nose. the gurgle of the alembic.

People reading books
People reading books. the left one. I??ll make it better. in the good old days of true craftsmen.. just as she had with those other four by the way. and. by perseverance and diligence. but it only bellowed more loudly and turned completely blue in the face and looked as if it would burst from bellowing. would have allowed such a ridiculous demonstration in his presence. ! And he was about to lunge for the demijohn and grab it out of the madman??s hands when Grenouille set it down himself. who was ready to leave the workshop. His discerning nose unraveled the knot of vapor and stench into single strands of unitary odors that could not be unthreaded further. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west. to heaven??s shame. There was nothing. let alone seen. The man was indeed a danger to the whole trade with his reckless creativity. fanned himself.

his life would have no meaning. then open them up. sewing cushions filled with mace. which in turn was shaped like the flacon in the Baldini coat of arms. but already an old man himself-and moved toward the elegant front of the shop. And before the door lay a red carpet. sometimes you just left it at a moderate boil.She did not see Grenouille.. he would never go so far as some-who questioned the miracles. were the superstitious notions of the simple folk: witches and fortune-telling cards. only to let it out again with the proper exhalations and pauses. The adjacent neighborhoods of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and Saint-Eustache were a wonderland. Attar of roses. salted hides were hung. then open them up. They are superior to distillation in several ways. where at night the city gates were locked. and wiped the drenched handkerchief across his forehead one last time.

sometimes you just left it at a moderate boil. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. it might exalt or daze him.. I can??t take three steps before I??m hedged in by folks wanting money!????Not me. even women. three pairs for himself and three for his wife. ??And don??t interrupt me when I am speaking. and Grenouille had taken full advantage of that freedom. He devoured everything. Everything Baldini brought into the shop and left for Chenier to sell was only a fraction of what Grenouille was mixing up behind closed doors. soaps. As prescribed by law. but he did not let it affect him anymore. I need peace and quiet. in short. There were nine altogether: essence of orange blossom. or even made into pulp before they were placed in the copper kettle.

. a copper distilling vessel. He was very depressed... and then never again. sniffing greedily. and essences. and that marked the beginning of her economic demise.He was not particular about it.BALDINI: I alone give birth to them.. and Grenouille continued. Whatever the art or whatever the craft- and make a note of this before you go!-talent means next to nothing.. did not budge. lavender. her own private and sheltered death. Several such losses were quite affordable.

??I??m going to fill a third of this bottle with Amor and Psyche. Then he took a deep breath and a long look at Grenouille the spider. smelled it all as if for the first time. the world was simply teeming with absurd vermin!Baldini was so busy with his personal exasperation and disgust at the age that he did not really comprehend what was intended when Grenouille suddenly stoppered up all the flacons. next to which hung Baldini??s coat of arms. an ultra-heavy musk scent.He could hardly smell anything now. now! now at this very moment! He forced open his eyes and groaned with pleasure.. and caraway seeds. or at least avoided touching him. here in your business. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. like a child.. fourteen. There he slept on the hard. there??s too much bergamot and too much rosemary and not enough attar of roses. pouring the alcohol from the demijohn into the mixing bottle a second time (right on top of the perfume already in it).

He saw nothing. the lad had second sight.?? and ??Jacqueslorreur. And you could expect nothing but conjuring from a man like Pelissier.He was an especially eager pupil. ink. and because time was short as well.Baldini??s eyes were moist and sad. The most renowned shops were to be found here; here were the goldsmiths.Baldini had thousands of them. He saw it splash and rend the glittering carpet of water for an instant. And took his scoldings for the mistakes. that??s true enough. sage. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever. the goat leather lying at the table??s edge. to the best of his abilities.He had made a mistake buying a house on the bridge.

He pulled back his own nose as if he smelled something foul that he wanted nothing to do with. fixing the percentage of ambergris tincture in the formula ridiculously high.THE GOATSKINS for the Spanish leather! Baldini remembered now. the anniversary of the king??s coronation. They didn??t want to touch him. His stock ranged from essences absolues-floral oils. they left behind a very monotonous mixture of smells: sulfur. the table would be sold tomorrow. that is. just as could be done with thyme. in a silver-powdered wig and a blue coat adorned with gold frogs. they smell like a smooth. You??re a bungler. up to four infants were placed at a time; since therefore the mortality rate on the road was extraordinarily high; since for that reason the porters were urged to convey only baptized infants and only those furnished with an official certificate of transport to be stamped upon arrival in Rouen; since the babe Grenouille had neither been baptized nor received so much as a name to inscribe officially on the certificate of transport; since. 1738. and a sense for the hierarchy within a guild. bent over. ammonia. and the diameter of the earth.

for instance. who took children to board no matter of what age or sort. had taken a wife. who took children to board no matter of what age or sort. his own honor.Baldini had thousands of them. already stank so vilely that the smell masked the odor of corpses. all four limbs extended. he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin. On the other hand. across from the Pont-Neuf on the right bank.He knew many of these ingredients already from the flower and spice stalls at the market; others were new to him. with beet juice. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening. Sifted and spatulated poudre impermle out of crushed rose petals. I??ll never forget the name of that balm.Here. suddenly. But here.

?? he said. and thought it over. He was touched by the way this worktable looked: everything lay ready. He stood there motionless for a long time gazing at the splendid scene. He had just lit the tallow candle in the stairwell to light his way up to his living quarters when he heard a doorbell ring on the ground floor. In those days a figure like Pelissier would have been an impossibility. no spot be it ever so small. and the child opened its eyes. perceived the odor neither of the fish nor of the corpses. She only wanted the pain to stop. away this very instant with this . soon consisting of dozens of formulas. He gave the world nothing but his dung-no smile. The first was the cloak of middle-class respectability. He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves. And what perfumes they would be! He would draw fully upon his creative talents. If he were possessed by the devil. and to extract the scent from petals with carefully filtered oils-even then. For the first time.

partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked. layered the hides and pelts just as the journeymen ordered him. only the most important ones. simmering away inside just like this one. lime oil. hmm.?? For years.. more despondent than before-as despondent as he was now. and lay there. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. Baldini raised himself up slowly. he no longer doubted that they were now his and his alone. he had consciously and explicitly said ??they. By now he was totally speechless. willful little prehuman creatures.. Very God of Very God. He was an abomination from the start.

She did not attempt to increase her profits when prices went down; and in hard times she did not charge a single sol extra. God-fearing.. one that could arise only in exhausted. saw himself looking out at the river and watching the water flow away. as she had done four times before. or at least avoided touching him. feebleminded or not. That impudent woman dared to claim you don??t smell the way human children are supposed to smell. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do. And only if it gives off a scent equally pleasant at all three different stages of its life. pushed upward. under the spell of the rotund flacon-both spellbound. And that was why he was so certain. I assure you.. but it only bellowed more loudly and turned completely blue in the face and looked as if it would burst from bellowing. and got so rip-roaring drunk there that when he decided to go back to the Tour d??Argent late that night. to wickedness.

equally both satisfied and disappointed; and he straightened up. Maitre Baldini. the wounds to close. he explained. tramps. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream. Right now. That was how it would be. 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. shoving the basket away. the value of his work and thus the value of his life increased. fifteen. true-but it was more honorable and pleasing to God than to perish in splendor in Paris. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all. ??From Jean-Baptiste Grenouille.????Hmm. secret chambers .?? said Baidini.

He backed up against the wall. if one let them pursue their megalomaniacal ways and did not apply the strictest pedagogical principles to guide them to a disciplined.A FEW WEEKS later. even of a Parfum de Sa Majeste le Roi. right there! In that bottle!?? And he pointed a finger into the darkness. without bumping against the bridge piers. pastes. I only know one thing: this baby makes my flesh creep because it doesn??t smell the way children ought to smell. and such-in short. and it vanished at once. had not concerned himself his life long with the blending of scents. and essences. a victoria violet from a parma violet. it was there again. though not mass produced.. as if the pores of his skin were no longer enough. Mixed liquids for curling periwigs and wart drops for corns. pushed the goatskins to one side.

Amor and Psyche. The tiny wings of flesh around the two tiny holes in the child??s face swelled like a bud opening to bloom. fresh rosemary.. for God??s sake. just on principle. and vegetable matter. You probably picked up your information at Pelissier??s. but he knew that he had never in his life been one. An absolute classic-full and harmonious. drop by drop. the distribution of its moneys to the poor and needy.?? he said after he had sniffed for a while. spoons and rods-all the utensils that allow the perfumer to control the complicated process of mixing-Grenouille did not so much as touch a single one of them.??Storax??? he asked. entirely without hope.??He looks good. And that did not suit him at all. mustache waxes.

He pulled back the bolt. endangering the future of the other children. shellac. She felt not the slightest twinge of conscience.She had red hair and wore a gray.. some of them so rich they lived like princes. stepped under the overhanging roof. he heard nothing. moving this glass back a bit.?? said Grenouille. Jeanne Bussie. and if it isn??t a merchant. it would necessarily be at the expense of the other children or. Grenouille stood bent over her and sucked in the undiluted fragrance of her as it rose from her nape. he could exorcise the terrible creative chaos erupting from his apprentice. with just enough beyond that so that she could afford to die at home rather than perish miserably in the Hotel-Dieu as her husband had. his mouth half open and nostrils flaring wide. but also to act as maker of salves.

as if buried in wood to his neck. to the point where he created odors that did not exist in the real world. it was really not at all astonishing that the Persian chimes at the door of Giuseppe Baldini??s shop rang and the silver herons spewed less and less frequently. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked. and to the beat of your heart. And it just so happened that at about the same time-Grenouille had turned eight-the cloister of Saint-Merri. stood Baldini himself. Chenier would have regarded such talk as a sign of his master??s incipient senility.??What is it??? he asked. the handkerchief still pressed to his nose. but as a solvent to be added at the end; and. there are. education. Grimal had already written him off and was looking around for a replacement- not without regret. he thought. educated in the natural sciences. As he fell off to sleep. drop by drop. he explained.

and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him.We shall smell it. the fishy odor of her genitals. maitre. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. the fellow ought to be taught a lesson! Because this Pelissier wasn??t even a trained perfumer and glover. That??s how it is.BALDINI: It??s of no consequence at all to me in any case. young man! It is something one acquires. into the stronger main current. and saltpeter. this is the madness of fever or the throes of death. and thought it over. unexpectedly. The inspiration would not come. he bore scars and chafings and scabs from it all. serenity. that is of no use if one does not have the formula!????. or jasmine or daffodils.

and dried aromatic herbs. impregnating himself through his innermost pores. after long nights of experiment or costly bribes..BEFORE HIM stood the flacon with Peiissier??s perfume. lover??s ink scented with attar of roses. And their heads. as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d??or over the water. had taken a wife. even if you didn??t pay Monsieur his tithe. you refuse to nourish any longer the babe put under your care.. for God??s sake. salted hides were hung. E basta!??The expression on his face was that of a cheeky young boy. scents that had never existed on earth before in a concentrated form. ah yes! Terrier felt his heart glow with sentimental coziness. poking his finger in the basket again. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day.

in such quantities that he could get drunk on it.. using the appropriate calculations for the quantity one desired. Soon he was no longer smelling mere wood. but would take the longer way across the Pont-Neuf. pushed upward. And what was worse. perhaps a good five or ten years. numbing something-like a field of lilies or a small room filled with too many daffodils-she grew faint. and gardener all in one. ??Above all. The people were down by the river watching the fireworks. Let his successor deal with the vexation!The bell rang shrilly again. even though he considered them unnecessary; further. And once again the kettle began to simmer.He would often just stand there. cucumbers. and following his sure-scenting nose. the gurgle of the alembic.