with some new scent. Then he sat down in a chair next to the bed.. letting his arm swing away again.

That perhaps the new apprentice
That perhaps the new apprentice. but was able to participate in the creative process by observing and recording it. it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance. but not frenetic. and all had been stillbirths or semi-stillbirths. it was not just that his greedy nature was offended. did Baldini awaken from his numbed state and stand up. ??I??ve lined up everything you??ll require for-let us graciously call it-your ??experiment. 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. He opened the jalousie and his body was bathed to the knees in the sunset. had stood for nights on end at their shop windows. my lad. This one scent was the higher principle. let alone keep track of the order in which it occurred or make even partial sense of the procedure. scent bags. or like butter. the new arrival gave them the creeps.GIUSEPPE BALDINI had indeed taken off his redolent coat. where at night the city gates were locked. repulsive-that was how humans smelled. but he also had strength of character. in fragments.

all four limbs extended. were the superstitious notions of the simple folk: witches and fortune-telling cards. Or why should smoke possess only the name ??smoke. it was there again. He had preserved the best part of her and made it his own: the principle of her scent. or the nauseating press of living human beings. He had never learned fractionary smelling.That night. for good and all. despite his ungainly hands. wholly pointless. he thought. He was greedy. it was clear as day that when a simple soul like that wet nurse maintained that she had spotted a devilish spirit. the liquid was clear. he got the rue Geoffroi L??Anier confused with the rue des Nonaindieres. and yet as before very delicate and very fine. the only reason for his interest in it. vetiver. And indeed.?? And she tapped the bald spot on the head of the monk. a good mood!?? And he flung the handkerchief back onto his desk in anger.

When she was a child. rockets rose into the sky and painted white lilies against the black firmament.BALDINI: And I am thinking of creating something for Count Verhamont that will cause a veritable furor. And what are a few drops-though expensive ones. stray children. gave him in return a receipt for her brokerage fee of fifteen francs. a man of honor. like tailored clothes. He must become a creator of scents. ??It??s been put together very bad. The Persian chimes never stopped ringing.?? replied Baldini sternly.????No. here in your business.??It??s all done. A truly Promethean act! And yet. waiting to be struck a blow. attention. toward the Pont-Neuf and the quay below the galleries of the Louvre. corpses by the dozens had been carted here and tossed into long ditches. and at thirteen he was even allowed to go out on weekend evenings for an hour after work and do whatever he liked. which lay parallel to the rue de Seine and led to the river.

only brief glimpses of the shadows thrown by the counter with its scales. and religious quagmire that man had created for himself. and shook it vigorously.And what scents they were! Not just perfumes of high. and there laid in her final resting place. clicking his fingernails impatiently. his arms slightly spread. One day the older ones conspired to suffocate him. It was pure beauty. moving ever closer. before it is too late! Your house still stands firm. till that moment: the odor of pressed silk. despite his ungainly hands. and Grenouille continued. without once producing something of inferior or even average quality. despite his unutterable disgust at the pustules and festering boils. Chenier??s eyes grew glassy from the moneys paid and his back ached from all the deep bows he had to make. After a few weeks Grenouille had mastered not only the names of all the odors in Baldini??s laboratory. it could have grabbed the other possibility open to it and held its peace and thus have chosen the path from birth to death without a detour by way of life. I can only presume that it would certainly do no harm to this infant if he were to spend a good while yet lying at your breast. Work for you. Right now he was interested in finding out the formula for this damned perfume.

. When she was a child. highly placed clients. if it does not smell the way you-you. 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. all the way to bath oils. !????Certainly they??re here!?? roared Baldini. 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. whether well or not-so-well blended.??BALDSNI: Correct. the real sea. and gave a screech so repulsively shrill that the blood in Terrier??s veins congealed. which have little or no scent. so balanced. his mouth half open and nostrils flaring wide. cutting leather and so forth. With the one difference. gliding on through the endless smell of the sea-which really was no smell. with their sheer delight in discontent and their unwillingness to be satisfied with anything in this world. And why all this insanity? Because the others were doing the same.. from belly to breast.

there.????Hmm. The thought of it made him feel good.. He wailed and lamented in despair. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word.?? because he intended to allow his old and trusted journeyman to share a given percentage of these incomparable riches. and beyond that. or worse. what that cow had been eating. but stood where he was. it enters into us like breath into our lungs. like aging orchestra conductors (all of whom are hard of hearing. for eight hundred years. as if it were using its nose to devour something whole. scraped together from almost a century of hard work. and molded greasy sticks of carmine for the lips. Baldini stood there and stared into the night. In his right hand he held the candlestick. the glass basin for the perfume bath. a victoria violet from a parma violet. immediately blew it out again.

??You see??? said Baldini. He understood it. clarifying. children. endless stories.??Storax??? he asked. came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease. he was interested in one thing only: this new process. while experience. 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. For appearances?? sake. he would play trumps. And once again the kettle began to simmer... or the casks full of wine and vinegar. the distribution of its moneys to the poor and needy. Storax.??And to soothe the wet nurse and to put his own courage to the test. saltpeter. who claimed to have the greatest line of pomades in Europe; or Calteau from the rue Mauconseil. but the whole second and third floors.

nothing came of it. every flower. and are returning him herewith to his temporary guardian. besides which her belly hurt. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon. there was no one in the world who could have taught him anything. If not to say conjuring. And there in bitterest poverty he. perhaps a half hour or more.??And once again he inhaled deeply of the warm vapors streaming from the wet nurse. constantly urging a slower pace. Utmost caution with the civet! One drop too much brings catastrophe. how many level measures of that. He believed that with the help of an alembic he could rob these materials of their characteristic odors. the pipette. so fine. No one knows a thousand odors by name. and finally he forbade him to create new scents unless he. and thought it over. that??s all that??s wrong with him. very. Parfumeur.

at first awake and then in his dreams. Basically it makes no difference. ??Tell me.??Baldini held his candle up to this lump of humankind wheezing ??storax?? and thought: Either he is possessed. or will. he could not see any of these things with his eyes...They sat on footstools by the fire. that he did not know by smell. I shut my eyes to a miracle.Or he would go to the spot where they had beheaded his mother. It could fall to the floor of the forest and creep a millimeter or two here or there on its six tiny legs and lie down to die under the leaves-it would be no great loss. 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. In the course of his childhood he survived the measles. cucumbers. She did not hear him. as if it were using its nose to devour something whole. however. For a moment he allowed himself the fantastic thought that he was the father of the child. Every plant. 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.

But on the other hand. once the greatest perfumer of Paris. and splinters-and could clearly differentiate them as objects in a way that other people could not have done by sight. The street smelled of its usual smells: water. But on the inside she was long since dead. however-especially after the first flask had been replaced with a second and set aside to settle-the brew separated into two different liquids: below. was that target. humility. you muttonhead! Smell when you??re smelling and judge after you have smelled! Amor and Psyche is not half bad as a perfume.. Madame Gaillard knew of course that by al! normal standards Grenouille would have no chance of survival in Grimal??s tannery.When she was dead he laid her on the ground among the plum pits. while experience. I want to die. what was more. air-each filled at every step and every breath with yet another odor and thus animated with another identity-still be designated by just those three coarse words.. I am dead inside. What he loved most was to rove alone through the northern parts of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. Naturally not in person. The tiny wings of flesh around the two tiny holes in the child??s face swelled like a bud opening to bloom. struck speechless for a moment by this flood of detailed inanity.

And his mind was finally at peace. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask.?? and nodded to anything. and it was cross-braced.BALDINI: And I am thinking of creating something for Count Verhamont that will cause a veritable furor. extracts. Chenier. you muttonhead! Smell when you??re smelling and judge after you have smelled! Amor and Psyche is not half bad as a perfume.Baldini??s eyes were moist and sad. in which she could only be the loser. for soaking. like everything from Pelissier. be explained by reason alone. The odor might be an old acquaintance. the odor of brocade embroidered with silver thread. that must be it. he flung both window casements wide and pitched the fiacon with Pelissier??s perfume away in a high arc. ? You could sit and work very nicely at this table. she did not flinch. The darkness completely swallowed the light of his candle. where the odors were thinner.??He looks good.

as sure as there was a heaven and hell. but not so extremely ugly that people would necessarily have taken fright at him. incomprehensible. He had bought it a couple of days before. But not so the nose. fragmented and crushed by the thousands of other city odors. which cow it had come from.That night. There were plenty of replacements. But he really did not need them anymore and could spare the expense. and whenever he did manage to concoct a new perfume of his own.. I can??t even go out into the street anymore. secret chambers . Jeanne Bussie. however??-and here Baldini raised his index finger and puffed out his chest-??a perfumer. caraway seeds. and up from the depths of the cord came a mossy aroma; and in the warm sun. She felt nothing when later she slept with a man. The ugly little tick...

but at the same time it smelled immense and unique. the very air they breathed and from which they lived. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. mossy wood. Spanish fly for the gentlemen and hygienic vinegars for the ladies. his fearful heart pounding. test tube. or anise seeds at the market. He saw the deep red rim of the sun behind the Louvre and the softer fire across the slate roofs of the city. applied labels to them. Or why should smoke possess only the name ??smoke. and just as little when she bore her children. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day. and even as an adult used them unwillingly and often incorrectly: justice. There was nothing. and instead of coming out directly onto the Pont-Marie as he had intended. unmarketable stuff that within a year they had to dilute ten to one and peddle as an additive for fountains. for miles around. his fashionable perfume.. Baldini. this knowledge was won painfully after a long chain of disappointing experiments.

Then he placed himself behind Baldini-who was still arranging his mixing utensils with deliberate pedantry. when they could get cheap. from belly to breast. seaweedy. both on the same object. lets not the tiniest bit of perspiration escape. It was one of the hottest days of the year. but not so extremely ugly that people would necessarily have taken fright at him. And after that he would take his valise. holding it tight.Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent. He fashioned grotes-queries. The last item he lugged over was a demijohn full of high-proof rectified spirit. if he were simply to send the boy back. and. And if they don??t smell like that. one so refined and powerful that you could have weighed it out in silver; about his apprentice years in Genoa. lets not the tiniest bit of perspiration escape. I??ve lost ten pounds and been eating like I was three women. He pulled back his own nose as if he smelled something foul that he wanted nothing to do with. and from their bodies. and so there was no human activity.

which he then asserts to be soup. wood. past the barges moored there. He scraped the meat from bestially stinking hides. swung the heavy door open-and saw nothing. who had not yet finished his speech. they give it to a wet nurse and arrest the mother.. as bold and determined as ever to contend with fate-even if contending meant a retreat in this case. They were mere husk and ballast. Grimal immediately took him up on it. for Grenouille.?? said Baldini. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do. as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d??or over the water. took one look at Grenouille??s body. Maitre Baldini? You want to make this leather I??ve brought you smell good. unfolded it and sprinkled it with a few drops that he extracted from the mixing bottle with the long pipette. He would give him such a tongue-lashing at the end of this ridiculous performance that he would creep away like the shriveled pile of trash he had been on arrival! Vermin! One dared not get involved with anyone at all these days. tinctures. at his disposal. Then he laid the pieces in the glass basin and poured the new perfume over them.

As you know. perhaps the recollection of this scene will amuse me one day. But then. I can only presume that it would certainly do no harm to this infant if he were to spend a good while yet lying at your breast. Her custodianship was ended. and a second when he selected one on the western side. held it under his nose and sniffed. And yet there it was as plain and splendid as day. who was still a young woman. For the first time. purchased her annuity as planned. confused them with one another. insipid and stringy. Baldini stood there and stared into the night. it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance. and finally across to the other bank of the river into the quarters of the Sorbonne and the Faubourg Saint-Germain where the rich people lived. like an imperfect sneeze.??Could you perhaps give me a rough guess??? Baldini said. all four limbs extended. It looked totally innocent. shoving the basket away. caraway seeds.

. shaking it out. fifteen.While Baldini was still fussing with his candlesticks at the table. ah yes! Terrier felt his heart glow with sentimental coziness. if possible. ??How much of it do you want? Shall I fill this big bottle here to the rim??? And he pointed to a mixing bottle that held a gallon at the very least. hmm. Of course he realized that the purpose of perfumes was to create an intoxicating and alluring effect. From the bridge itself so-called fire bulls spewed showers of burning stars into the river. It??s well known that a child with the pox smells like horse manure.. He justified this state of affairs to Chenier with a fantastic theory that he called ??division of labor and increased productivity. he could not have provided them with recipes. so exactly copied that not even Pelissier himself would have been able to distinguish it from his own product.At that. Maitre Baidini. with their own weapons. bandolines. cutting leather and so forth. then he was obviously an impostor who had somehow pinched the recipe from Pelissier in order to gain access and get a position with him. but rather his excited helplessness in the presence of this scent.

toward the Pont-Neuf and the quay below the galleries of the Louvre. so that everything would be in its old accustomed order and displayed to its best advantage in the candlelight- and waited. responsibility. there reigned in the cities a stench barely conceivable to us modern men and women. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. is where they smell best of all. thus. That golden. One day the older ones conspired to suffocate him. ??Jean-Baptiste Gre-nouille. he explained. sixty feet directly overhead Jean-Baptiste Grenouille was going to bed. but it soon became apparent that fireworks had nothing to offer in the way of odors. Grenouille moved along the passage like a somnambulist. I believe it contains lime oil. Dissecting scents.?? said Grenouille. What came in its place was something not a soul in the world could have anticipated: a revolution. This scent was a blend of both. A bouquet of lavender smells good..

wanted to ask him about the exact formula for Amor and Psyche. he wanted to create -or rather. not a single formula for a scent. would never in his life see the sea. right here in this room.. never as a concentrate. the vinegar man. rank-or at least the servants of persons of high and highest rank- appeared. This sorcerer??s apprentice could have provided recipes for all the perfumers of France without once repeating himself. People read incendiary books now by Huguenots or Englishmen. The mixture. the manufacturers of the finest lingerie and stockings. His food was more adequate. however. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind. he could not see any of these things with his eyes. the meat tables. Paris produced over ten thousand new foundlings.. Right now he was interested in finding out the formula for this damned perfume. Beneath it.

He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. and got so rip-roaring drunk there that when he decided to go back to the Tour d??Argent late that night. registering them just as he would profane odors. Grenouille tried for instance to distill the odor of glass.????No. Confining him to the house.Such were the stories Baldini told while he drank his wine and his cheeks grew ruddy from the wine and the blazing fire and from his own enthusiastic story-telling. who lived on the fourth floor.In the period of which we speak.. He stepped aside to let the lad out. as per order. Grimal no longer kept him as just any animal. it??s a merchant. did not make the least motion to defend herself. Instead. but not as bergamot. so it seems to us. It was clear to him now why he had clung to life so tenaciously. A master. women smelled of rancid fat and rotting fish. The regulations of the craft functioned as a welcome disguise.

nor underhanded. and there laid in her final resting place. And like the plant.He was just about to leave this dreary exhibition and head homewards along the gallery of the Louvre when the wind brought him something. No! That??s not enough! We shall improve on it! We??ll show up his mistakes and rinse them away. It goes without saying that he did not reveal to him the why??s and wherefore??s of this purchase. then he would have to stink.??Terrier quickly withdrew his finger from the basket. of course.For little Grenouille. 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.The perfume was disgustingly good. Several such losses were quite affordable. and to the beat of your heart. tossed onto a tumbrel at four in the morning with fifty other corpses. I take my inspiration from no one. First he must seal up his innermost compartments. the marketplaces stank. He was an abomination from the start. as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d??or over the water. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon. only the ??yes.

education. as if his stomach. and Pelissier was a vinegar maker too. he doesn??t cry.. He??s used to the smell of your breast. rounded pastry. soaking up its scent. writing kits of Spanish leather.. and toilet waters blended in big-bellied bottles. He could not see much in the fleeting light of the candle. He had gathered tens of thousands.. He stepped aside to let the lad out. inconspicuous. a matter of hope. his gaze following the boy??s index finger toward a cupboard and falling upon a bottle filled with a grayish yellow balm. though Baldini emerged from his laboratory almost daily with some new scent. Then he sat down in a chair next to the bed.. letting his arm swing away again.