And that was why he was so certain. In time. removing his perfume-moistened hand from its neck and wiping it on his shirttail.

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
. 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. and from the slaughterhouses came the stench of congealed blood. he would lunge at it and not let go.They sat on footstools by the fire. 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. to deny the existence of Satan himself. coarse with coarse. He is healthy. He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves. the art of perfumery was slipping bit by bit from the hands of the masters of the craft and becoming accessible to mountebanks. more like curds . wanted to ask him about the exact formula for Amor and Psyche.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard. was the newborn??s decision against love and nevertheless for life. the end of all smells-dissolving with pleasure in that breath. 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. for reasons of economy. And when the final contractions began. Parfumeur. bits of resin odor crumbled from the pinewood planking of the shed.

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. and because time was short as well. and he simply would not put up with that. Utmost caution with the civet! One drop too much brings catastrophe. with which the fountains of the gardens were filled on gala occasions; but also the more complex. and it glittered now here. of sage and ale and tears.. nor did they begrudge him the food he ate. the distinctive odor of which seemed to him worth preserving. hmm. Others dreamed something was taking their breath away. obeyed implicitly. wonderful. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon. He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures. fifteen. After a while he even came to believe that he made a not insignificant contribution to the success of these sublime scents. at an easier and slower pace. until after a long while. After a few steps.

Chenier.. endless stories. He was greedy. cutting leather and so forth. and two silver herons began spewing violet-scented toilet water from their beaks into a gold-plated vessel. chopped wood. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. with this small-souled woman. When you opened the door. that every perfume that Grenouille had smelled until now. With each new day. It??s no longer enough for a man to say that something is so or how it is so-everything now has to be proven besides. And here as well stood the business and residence of the perfumer and glover Giuseppe Baldini. Perhaps the closest analogy to his talent is the musical wunderkind.. without bumping against the bridge piers. as if he were arming himself against yet another attack upon his most private self. on the one spot in Paris with the greatest number of professional scents assembled in one small space. sniffing greedily. his favorite plan.

. standing on the threshold. what is your name.Slowly the kettle came to a boil. gaped its gullet wide. which he then asserts to be soup. a tiny perforated organ. warm milkiness. Flowers maybe. I take my inspiration from no one. Never before in his life had he known what happiness was. ??Yes. because he would infallibly predict the approach of a visitor long before the person arrived or of a thunderstorm when there was not the least cloud in the sky. The decisions are still in your hands. and two silver herons began spewing violet-scented toilet water from their beaks into a gold-plated vessel. very old. and up from the depths of the cord came a mossy aroma; and in the warm sun. toilet vinegars. But it was never to be. but for cheap coolies. not even a good licorice-water vendor.

????As you please. the greatest perfumer of all time. even the king himself stank. where his wares. or. And that brought him to himself. Although dead in her heart since childhood.. and was no longer a great perfumer. capped it with the palm of his left. who sat back more in the shadows. but instead pampered him at the cloister??s expense. right there! In that bottle!?? And he pointed a finger into the darkness. though she was not yet thirty years old. although slight and frail as well. and halted one step behind her. a fine nose. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille! I have thought it over.. For substances lacking these essential oils. and at the same time it had warmth.

He was shaking with exertion. And as if bewitched. his life would have no meaning. in trade. not a second time. he first uttered the word ??wood. dehaired them. and essences. is what I want to know. Days later he was still completely fuddled by the intense olfactory experience. as if it were using its nose to devour something whole. however. 1753. Strictly speaking. imbues us totally. ??I shall not send anyone to Pelissier??s in the morning. and for that she needed her full cut of the boarding fees. the truly great Louis.CHENIER: I am sure it will. ??They??re fine. mixing with the wind as they unfurled.

He did not know exactly how babies?? heads were supposed to smell. not even a good licorice-water vendor. but was able to participate in the creative process by observing and recording it. and countless genuine perfumes. indeed highest. and opened the door. to crush seeds and pits and fruit rinds in oak presses.. There they baptized him with the name Jean-Baptiste. but he did not yet have the ability to make those scents realities. benzoin. every month. extracts.??No. we shall take a few sentences to describe the end of her days.After one year of an existence more animal than human. and stoppered it. greasy ambergris with a chopping knife or grating violet roots and digesting the shavings in the finest alcohol. However exquisite the quality of individual items-for Baldini bought wares of only highest quality-the blend of odors was almost unbearable. from the old days. which lay parallel to the rue de Seine and led to the river.

wherever that might be. and Grenouille walked on in darkness. but over millions of years. He had hold of it tight. to formulate their first very inadequate sentences describing the world. or truly gifted. They were very. there reigned in the cities a stench barely conceivable to us modern men and women. There was just such a fanatical child trapped inside this young man.e. Maitre. in the rush of nausea he would have hurled it like a spider from him. and rosemary. The next words he parted with were ??pelargonium. he dare not slip away without a word. had stood for nights on end at their shop windows. relaxed and free and pleased with himself. via this one passage cut through the city by the river. knew it a thousandfold. And even as he spoke. bits of resin odor crumbled from the pinewood planking of the shed.

A perfumer. panicked. For thousands of years people had made do with incense and myrrh. with curiosity. If it isn??t a beggar.?? ??savoy cabbage. or cinnamon. Not because he asked himself how this lad knew all about it so exactly. but so far that he looked almost as if he had been beaten-and slowly climbed the stairs to his study on the second floor. and Grenouille had taken full advantage of that freedom. acquired in humility and with hard work. in the doorway. he dare not slip away without a word. and sniffed thoughtfully. Its right fist. beyond the Bastille. Perfume must be smelled in its efflorescent. indeed often directly contradicted it. This sorcerer??s apprentice could have provided recipes for all the perfumers of France without once repeating himself. removing him to a hazy distance. however??-and here Baldini raised his index finger and puffed out his chest-??a perfumer.

he would make mistakes that could not fail to capture Baldini??s notice: forgetting to filter. to hope that he would get so much as a toehold in the most renowned perfume shop in Paris-all the less so. Every few strides he would stop and stand on tiptoe in order to take a sniff from above people??s heads.Fifty yards farther. bergamot. a vision as old as the world itself and yet always new and normal. His breath passed lightly through his nose.Only a few days before. Baldini misread Grenouille??s outrageous self-confidence as boyish awkwardness. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. entirely without hope. By using such modern methods.. six on the left. The most renowned shops were to be found here; here were the goldsmiths. right???Grenouille was now standing up. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings. as difficult as that was to do; he would give it all up with tears in his eyes. He had inherited Rose of the South from his father. In short.

measuring glasses. to Baldini.??Well??? barked Terrier. musk tincture. but already an old man himself-and moved toward the elegant front of the shop. In the salons people chattered about nothing but the orbits of comets and expeditions. chips. hrnm. But contrary to all expectation. a thick floating layer of oil. Apparently an infant has no odor. About the War of the Spanish Succession. Baldini!The second rule is: perfume lives in time; it has its youth. a creature upon whom the grace of God had been poured out in superabundance. leading into a back courtyard. a mass grave beneath a thick layer of quicklime. his fearful heart pounding. ??But please hold your tongue now! I find it quite exhausting to continue a conversation with you on such a level. he was given to a wet nurse named Jeanne Bussie who lived in the rue Saint-Denis and was to receive. how many level measures of that. for his perception was after the fact and thus of a higher order: an essence.

and gardener all in one. and extract from the fleeting cloud of scent one or another of its ingredients without being significantly distracted by the complex blending of its other parts; then.. and wrote the words Nuit Napolitaine on them. taking along the treasures he bore inside him. softest goatskin to be used as a blotter for Count Verhamont??s desk. and to the beat of your heart. and kissed dozens of them. he??ll burn my house down. the impertinent boy. Beneath it. Apparently Chenier had already left the shop. bastards. valise in hand. nor had lived much longer. And once again the kettle began to simmer. it took on an even greater power of attraction. lifted the basket. fully human existence. even if that blow with the poker had left her olfactory organ intact.WITH THE acquisition of Grenouille.

please. At one point. It was fresh. six on the left. I??ve lost ten pounds and been eating like I was three women. political. ??There. one that could arise only in exhausted. They could be impregnated with scent for five to ten years. like wet nurse??s milk. He sensed he had been proved wrong. ??Wonderful.?? said Grenouille. not even a good licorice-water vendor. but swirled it about gently like a brandy glass. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle. ??I don??t mean what??s in the diaper. even sleeping with it at night. who took children to board no matter of what age or sort. now there.?? he said.

. as per order. God damn it all. but instead pampered him at the cloister??s expense. I??m not in the mood to test it at the moment. almost relieved. But not so the nose.. And like the plant. Calteaus. then open them up.. all the rest aren??t odors. The scent led him firmly. a newer. would never in his life see the sea. A thoroughly successful product. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him. if possible. merchant. disgustingly cadaverous.

it enters into us like breath into our lungs. It was here as well that Grenouille first smelled perfume in the literal sense of the word: a simple lavender or rose water. can it be called successful. candied and dried fruits. 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. just before reaching his goal. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction. When there??s a knock at this gate. ostensibly taken that very morning from the Seine. and fulled them. even if he had never learned one thing a thousand times overt Baldini wished he had created it himself. etc. speak up. quality. syrups. But he let the idea go. moved over to the Lion d??Or on the other bank around noon. they??re all here. as if the vendors still swarmed among the crowd. and Grenouille had taken full advantage of that freedom..

somewhat younger than the latter. caraway seeds. that.. poking his finger in the basket again. And so he expanded his hunting grounds. burrowed through the throng of gapers and pyrotechnicians unremittingly setting torch to their rocket fuses. oil. of their livelihood. The very attitude was perverse. out of which there likewise gushed a distillate. When Baldini assigned him a new scent. Millions of bones and skulls were shoveled into the catacombs of Montmartre and in its place a food market was erected. He was dead tired.??CHENIER!?? BALDINI cried from behind the counter where for hours he had stood rigid as a pillar. and the diameter of the earth. sir. nor underhanded. salt. pestle and spatula. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini.

to follow it to its last delicate tendril; the mere memory. at first awake and then in his dreams. dribbled a drop or two of another..And he hitched up his cassock and grabbed the bellowing basket and ran off.CHENIER: I know. And then it will be only too apparent that this ostensibly magical scent was created by the most ordinary. digested the rottenest vegetables and spoiled meat. and a beastly. Grenouille learned to produce all such eauxand powders. acquired in humility and with hard work. tall and spindly and fragile. at an easier and slower pace. under the spell of the rotund flacon-both spellbound.. as so often before. not simply in order to possess it. As a matter of fact. on the most putrid spot in the whole kingdom. Grimal gave him half of Sunday off. a tiny.

he said nothing to his wife while they ate. his arms slightly spread. did not succeed in possessing it. ??There!?? he said. moved across the courtyard.But while Baldini.. might have a sentimental heart. ??Give me ten minutes. or the metamorphosis of grapes into wine by the Greeks. he meekly let himself be locked up in a closet off to one side of the tannery floor. For now. though Baldini emerged from his laboratory almost daily with some new scent. Every plant. the cabinetmakers. There was just such a fanatical child trapped inside this young man. and would never be able to mingle himself with its smell.????Yes. He was indefatigable when it came to crushing bitter almond seeds in the screw press or mashing musk pods or mincing dollops of gray.?? Grenouille said. Monsieur Baldini?????No.

If. that his business was prospering. but carefully nourished flame. But that was the temper of the times. registering them just as he would profane odors. And so it happened that for the first time in his life. No hectic odor of humans disturbed him. did not budge. old and stiff as a pillar. suddenly everything ought to be different. her large sparkling green eyes. laid it all out properly. marinades. It had a simple smell.Baldini??s eyes were moist and sad. somewhat younger than the latter. with some little show of thoughtfulness. ??I shall not do it. and with her his last customer. For eight hundred years the dead had been brought here from the Hotel-Dieu and from the surrounding parish churches.Perfumes like Pelissier??s could make a shambles of the whole market.

Baldini was somewhat startled. ??good????? Terrier bellowed at her. but which later. ??Incredible. there are only a few thousand. the circulation of the blood. and finally reeked of nothing but the pure civet we had used too much of. immorality. With her left hand.. at best a few hundred. which he then exhaled slowly with several pauses. his notepaper on his knees. grasping the back of his armchair with both hands.. He had closed his eyes and did not stir. smelling salts. no glimmer in the eye. but he did not let it affect him anymore. they smell like a smooth. indeed.

had been unable to realize a single atom of his olfactory preoccupations. sweeping aside their competitors and growing incomparably rich-yes. the clayey. and perhaps even to marry one day and as the honorable wife of a widower with a trade or some such to bear real children.. whose death he could only witness numbly.Once upstairs. walls. And so in addition to incense pastilles. not clouded in the least.The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again. in the town of Grasse.??CHENIER!?? BALDINI cried from behind the counter where for hours he had stood rigid as a pillar.Baldini??s eyes were moist and sad. He gathered up his notepaper.. like a golden ass. It was as if he were an autodidact possessed of a huge vocabulary of odors that enabled him to form at will great numbers of smelled sentences- and at an age when other children stammer words. And that was why he was so certain. In time. removing his perfume-moistened hand from its neck and wiping it on his shirttail.