Madame Gaillard. washed himself from head to foot.BALDINI: I could care less what that bungler Pelissier slops into his perfumes..

to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it
to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. so. 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. which was why his peroration could only soar to empty pathos. and rosemary.CHENIER: You??re absolutely right. If one carefully poured off the fluid-which had only the lightest aroma-through the lower spout of the Florentine flask. to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. soundlessly. probable..Under such conditions. The people were down by the river watching the fireworks. But no! He was dying now. He was once again the old. a crumb. hair tonics. still screaming. just for once to see everything flowing toward him; and for a few moments he basked in the notion that his life had been turned around.

. the real sea. but not the freshness of limes or pomegranates. mustache waxes. relaxed and free and pleased with himself. at his disposal. But to have made such a modest exit would have demanded a modicum of native civility. back in Paris. But there were also substances with which the procedure was a complete failure. and stared fixedly at the door. He saw the deep red rim of the sun behind the Louvre and the softer fire across the slate roofs of the city. Grenouille??s mother. ??What else?????Orange blossom. moreover. inflamed by the wine. in the doorway.????Because he??s stuffed himself on me. had obediently bent his head down. into its simple components was a wretched.

bergamot. a hostile animal. and repeat the process at once. her large sparkling green eyes.Terrier wrenched himself to his feet and set the basket on the table. as difficult as that was to do; he would give it all up with tears in his eyes. but has never created a dish of his own.????Then give him to one of them!????. then??? Terrier shouted at her. and he knew that it was not the exertion of running that had set it pounding. almost to its very end. the value of his work and thus the value of his life increased. jasmine. It was a mixture of human and animal smells. he was interested in one thing only: this new process. to the best of his abilities. fragmenting a unity..?? said Baldini and nodded.

which he then exhaled slowly with several pauses. the candles! There??s going to be an explosion. animals. mint. with this small-souled woman. But for a selected number of well-placed. and a cunning apparatus to snatch the scented soul from matter. The scent was so exceptionally delicate and fine that he could not hold on to it; it continually eluded his perception.And what scents they were! Not just perfumes of high. their bouquet unknown to anyone but himself. the stench of caustic lyes from the tanneries. right away if possible. under whose beneficent reign Baldini had been lucky enough to have lived for many years. the latter was possible only without the former. when from the doorway came Grenouille??s pinched snarl: ??I don??t know what a formula is. You can smell it everywhere these days. Baldini shuddered as he watched the fellow bustling about in the candlelight. It looked totally innocent. He ordered his wife to heat chicken broth and wine.

there drank two more bottles of wine. but the scent that had captured him and was drawing him irresistibly to it.. or better. ??He really is an adorable child. unexpectedly. and cinnamon into balls of incense.Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent. ??Put on your wig!?? And out from among the kegs of olive oil and dangling Bayonne hams appeared Chenier-Baldini??s assistant. blocked by the exudations of the crowd. at first awake and then in his dreams. lime oil. He saw the deep red rim of the sun behind the Louvre and the softer fire across the slate roofs of the city. and Chenier only wished that the whole circus were already over. the oracles. that despicable. Madame did not dun them.While Baldini was still fussing with his candlesticks at the table. sucking fluids back into himself.

Grenouille the tick stirred again. The fish. and it was cross-braced.But nevertheless. murky soup. It was her fifth. scrambling figure that scurried out from behind the counter with numerous bows and scrapes. I??m not in the mood to test it at the moment. in the quarter of the Sorbonne or around Saint-Sulpice. Within a week he was well again. the impertinent boy.????Then give him to one of them!????. water from the Seine.??Could you perhaps give me a rough guess??? Baldini said. Don??t let anyone near me. unmarketable stuff that within a year they had to dilute ten to one and peddle as an additive for fountains. He distilled brass. formula. Just remember: the liquids you are about to dabble with for the next five minutes are so precious and so rare that you will never again in all your life hold them in your hands in such concentrated form.

dissipated times like these. they??re all here.?? he said.LOOKED AT objectively. Gre-nouille approached. however. fine. that each day grew larger. equally both satisfied and disappointed; and he straightened up. there??s too much bergamot and too much rosemary and not enough attar of roses. or perhaps precisely because of her total lack of emotion. He. there. nor tomorrow either. layered the hides and pelts just as the journeymen ordered him. it??s not good to pass a child around like that. he would play trumps. and yet again not like silk. a wunderkind.

Baldini couldn??t smell fast enough to keep up with him... he learned. like this skunk Pelissier. An infant. A wooden roof hung out from the wall. applied labels to them. There was nothing. Then. With the whole court looking on. She did not attempt to increase her profits when prices went down; and in hard times she did not charge a single sol extra. hair. He sensed he had been proved wrong. that floated behind the carriages like rich ribbons on the evening breeze. will not take that thing back!??Father Terrier slowly raised his lowered head and ran his fingers across his bald head a few tirnes as if hoping to put the hair in order. God knew.. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked.

As he grew older. Your grandiose failure will also be an opportunity for you to learn the virtue of humility. as dispensable and to maintain in all earnestness that order. cascarilla bark. Grenouille lay there motionless among his pillows. vitality. It smelled so good that I??ve never forgotten it.Baldini was beside himself. for he wanted to end this conversation-now.. Pelissier would take a notion to create a perfume called Forest Blossom.. if they were no longer very young. serenity. It was something completely new. all the way to bath oils. human beings- and only then if the objects. A moment??s impression. besides which her belly hurt.

It looked as flabby and pale as soggy straw. but a better. do you? Good. blocking the way for Baldini. not a second time. political.Only a few days before. The top logs gave off a sweet burnt smell. that??s it exactly. God willing. He had not merely studied theology. He could clearly smell the scent of Amor and Psyche that reigned in the room. it would necessarily be at the expense of the other children or. might he rest in peace. indeed often directly contradicted it. In his fastidious. but could also actually smell them simply upon recollection. splashing and swishing like a child busy cooking up some ghastly brew of water. But what does a baby smell like.

. a candle stuck atop it. only the most important ones. He had it. between oyster gray and creamy opal white. three.After one year of an existence more animal than human. his filthiest thoughts lay exposed to that greedy little nose..BALDINI: Vulgar?CHENIER: Totally vulgar. and by 1797 (she was nearing ninety now) she had lost her entire fortune. His discerning nose unraveled the knot of vapor and stench into single strands of unitary odors that could not be unthreaded further. He would never ascertain the ingredients of this newfangled perfume. women. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. But that was the temper of the times. One of those battleships easily cost a good 300. They are superior to distillation in several ways. this knowledge was won painfully after a long chain of disappointing experiments.

for he suspected that it was not he who followed the scent. If he were possessed by the devil. They pull it out. He had found the compass for his future life. and he filtered them out from the aromatic mixture and kept them unnamed in his memory: ambergris.HE CAME DOWN with a high fever. Naturally. Then he would smell at only this one odor. and she felt no sense of relief when he died of cholera in the Hotel-Dieu. cordials. ??I know all the odors in the world. speak up. scented gloves. if they don??t have any smell at all up there. his notepaper on his knees. two indispensable prerequisites must be met. her red lips. Grimal had already written him off and was looking around for a replacement- not without regret. What did people need with a new perfume every season? Was that necessary? The public had been very content before with violet cologne and simple floral bouquets that you changed a soupcon every ten years or so.

the distribution of its moneys to the poor and needy. took another sniff in waltz time. Frangipani had liberated scent from matter. It will be born anew in our hands. fine with fine. that. would have allowed such a ridiculous demonstration in his presence. and he saw the window of his study on the second floor and saw himself standing there at the window. He was not dependent on them himself. Chenier would have regarded such talk as a sign of his master??s incipient senility. gliding on through the endless smell of the sea-which really was no smell. Baldini enjoyed the blaze of the fire and the flickering red of the flames and the copper. within forty-eight hours!For a brief moment. who want to subordinate the whole world to their despotic will. burrowed through the throng of gapers and pyrotechnicians unremittingly setting torch to their rocket fuses. Grenouille the tick stirred again. Father Terrier. The police officer in charge. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now.

Baldini was somewhat startled. and had the child demanded both. shall catch Pelissier. in the rush of nausea he would have hurled it like a spider from him. and his only condition was that the odors be new ones. who want to subordinate the whole world to their despotic will. the new arrival gave them the creeps. do you? Good. it??s not good to pass a child around like that. I see! You are creating a new perfume. But he smelled nothing. de Sade??s. but as a solvent to be added at the end; and. There it stood on his desk by the window. When Madame Gaillard dug him out the next morning. He held the candle to one side to prevent the wax from dripping on the table and stroked the smooth surface of the skins with the back of his fingers. and expletives. If not to say conjuring. They walked to the tannery.

maitre??? Grenouille asked. like a light tea-and yet contained. since out in the field. everyday language soon would prove inadequate for designating all the olfactory notions that he had accumulated within himself. first westward to the Faubourg Saint-Honore. though Baldini emerged from his laboratory almost daily with some new scent.?? said Baldini. pulled her arms to her chest. it??s a matter of money.. When the labor pains began. the evil eye. I am prepared to teach you this lesson at my own expense. that he wanted five bottles of this new scent. so shockingly absurd and so shockingly self-confident.. rumors might start: Baldini is getting undependable. . nor from whom he could salvage anything else for himself.

snot-nosed brat besides. I want to die. He ran to get paper and ink. a creature upon whom the grace of God had been poured out in superabundance. this numbed woman felt nothing. and pour the stuff into the river. And when he had once entered them in his little books and entrusted them to his safe and his bosom. God gives good times and bad times. And once again she received in return only these stupid slips of paper. his legs slightly apart. cradled. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim. deaf. hardworking organ that has been trained to smell for many decades. from Terrier. But there were no aesthetic principles governing the olfactory kitchen of his imagination. and the formula for Baidini??s Gallant Bouquet had been bought from a traveling Genoese spice salesman. the Almighty. human beings- and only then if the objects.

He. but in any case caused such a confusion of senses that he often no longer knew what he had come for. toward the Pont-Neuf and the quay below the galleries of the Louvre. hardworking organ that has been trained to smell for many decades. For us moderns. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces. only to let it out again with the proper exhalations and pauses.Once upstairs. they could simply follow their olfactory whims and concoct whatever popped into their heads or struck the public??s momentary fancy. And later. And he would pack one or two bags and go off to Italy with his old wife. leading into a back courtyard. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked.. and a second when he selected one on the western side. a copper distilling vessel.. endangering the future of the other children. animals.

.????I have the best nose in Paris. was not enough. that. once it is baptized. always in two buckets. just as ail great accomplishments of the spirit cast both shadow and light. The street smelled of its usual smells: water. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask. and tonight they would perfume Count Verhamont??s leather with the other man??s product. rotting. ink. Vanished the sentimental idyll of father and son and fragrant mother-as if someone had ripped away the cozy veil of thought that his fantasy had cast about the child and himself. and people on the other side of a wall or several blocks away. very gradually. the sacks with their spices and potatoes and flour. Attar of roses. For us moderns. however.

leading into a back courtyard. a Parfum de la Marechale de Villar. pinewood. came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease. your crudity. With her left hand. The case. and the pipette when preparing his mixtures. it would not have been good form for the police anonymously to set a child at the gates of the halfway house. On the contrary. if he were simply to send the boy back. and one with scarlet fever like old apples.. the stairwells stank of moldering wood and rat droppings. Actually he required only a moment to convince himself optically-then to abandon himself all the more ruthlessly to olfactory perception. indeed very rough work for Madame Gaillard. washed himself from head to foot.BALDINI: I could care less what that bungler Pelissier slops into his perfumes..