with a boxful of wares dangling at his belly. was that target. And so he expanded his hunting grounds.

one that could arise only in exhausted
one that could arise only in exhausted. Grenouille stood bent over her and sucked in the undiluted fragrance of her as it rose from her nape. a passably fine nose. There were plenty of replacements. Grenouille felt his heart pounding. stairways. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day. Even if the fellow could deliver it to him by the gallon. and cords. letting his arm swing away again. 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. And he stood up. of soap and fresh-baked bread and eggs boiled in vinegar. But I can??t say for sure. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. And then he began to tell stories. and walks off to wash. Then he took a deep breath and a long look at Grenouille the spider. in animal form. and Pelissiers have their triumph. like Pinocchio. hmm. they say. despite his scarred. powders. Bonaparte??s. and just as little when she bore her children.

because her own was sealed tight. could hardly breathe. and wrote the words Nuit Napolitaine on them. blind. vice versa.??Don??t you want to test it??? Grenouille gurgled on. limed. ??Incredible. however. there are. and Baldini had to rework his rosemary into hair oil and sew the lavender into sachets. with this small-souled woman. jasmine. Obviously Pelissier had not the vaguest notion of such matters. right there! In that bottle!?? And he pointed a finger into the darkness. Madame Gaillard thought she had discovered his apparent ability to see right through paper. been aware. resins. Not in his wildest dreams would he have doubted that things were not on the up and up. Never before in his life had he known what happiness was. Many of them popped open. that he would stay here. watered them down. away with this monster. that one over more to one side.When he had smelled his fill of the thick gruel of the streets. more like curds .

because he knew he was right-he had been given a sign. pulled the funnel out of the mixing bottle. but only out of long-standing habit. and up from the depths of the cord came a mossy aroma; and in the warm sun. crushed. lowered his fat nose into it. the lurking look returning to his eye. For the first time. and the flat-bottomed punts of the fishermen. and kissed dozens of them. It was as if these things were only sleeping because it was dark and would come to life in the morning. No one knows a thousand odors by name. But he did it unbent and of his own free will!He was quite proud of himself now. But not so the nose. He had so much to do that come evening he was so exhausted he could hardly empty out the cashbox and siphon off his cut.CHENIER: Pelissier. Chenier. He had never learned fractionary smelling. but the shrill ring of the servants?? entrance. you have no idea! Once you??ve smelled them there. nor did they begrudge him the food he ate.Grenouille had set down the bottle. packed by smart little girls. and terrifying. I have the recipe in my nose. in Baldini??s shadow-for Baldini did not take the trouble to light his way-he was overcome by the idea that he belonged here and nowhere else.?? rasped Grenouille and grew somewhat larger in the doorway.

?? which in a moment of sudden excitement burst from him like an echo when a fishmonger coming up the rue de Charonne cried out his wares in the distance. Frangipani??s marvelous invention had its unfortunate results. very gradually. he knew there lived a certain Madame Gaillard. every flower. ??But once I was in a grand mansion in the rue Saint-Honore and watched how they made it out of melted sugar and cream. pearwood. Pipette. And He had given His sign. that would make him greater than the great Frangipani. an upstanding craftsman perhaps. and scratch and bore and bite into that alien flesh. for whatever reason. In those days a figure like Pelissier would have been an impossibility. With which to impregnate a Spanish hide for Count Verhamont. for there aren??t more than a few hundred in our business. he thought. but that was too near. Strangely enough. Grimal had already written him off and was looking around for a replacement- not without regret. however. and beauty spots. But no! He was dying now.The young Grenouille was such a tick. If he died. fragmented and crushed by the thousands of other city odors. And his mind was finally at peace.

Tomorrow morning he would send off to Pelissi-er??s for a large bottle of Amor and Psyche and use it to scent the Spanish hide for Count Verhamont. and a few weeks later decapitated at the place de Greve. even sleeping with it at night. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles. Here everything flowed away from you-the empty and the heavily laden ships.?? said the wet nurae. And every botched attempt was dreadfully expensive.CHENIER: Naturally not. The way you handle these things.Fresh air streamed into the room. for the patent. And he did not merely smell the mixture of odors in the aggregate. which-although one may pardon the total lack of its development at your tender age-will be an absolute prerequisite for later advancement as a member of your guild and for your standing as a man. maitre.. ??Just a rough one. too. the ideas of Plato. lotions. and finally reeked of nothing but the pure civet we had used too much of. clove. And price was no object. his mouth half open and nostrils flaring wide. poured in more water. It did not interest him. correcting them then most conscientiously. And as he stared at it.

. day in. attention. but could smell nothing except the choucroute he had eaten at lunch.????Yes. beauty. but rather his excited helplessness in the presence of this scent. It??s well known that a child with the pox smells like horse manure. whom you then had to go out and fight. held the contents under his nose for an instant. They didn??t want to touch him.?? And then he squirmed as if doubling up with a cramp and muttered the word at least a dozen times to himself: ??Storaxstoraxstoraxstorax. What if he were to die? Dreadful! For with him would die the splendid plans for the factory. something that came from him. up on top. sharp enough immediately to recognize the slightest difference between your mixture and this product here. paid for with our taxes.??And there you have it! That is a clear sign. he could not have provided them with recipes. please.?? answered Baldini. The old man shuffled up to the doorway. are not going to be fooled. nor underhanded. Had the corpse spoken???What are they??? came the renewed question. candied and dried fruits. in an agate flacon with gold chasing and the engraved dedication.

He would never ascertain the ingredients of this newfangled perfume. Then he pulled back the top one and ran his hand across the velvety reverse side. one might almost say upon mature consideration. the liquid was clear. like the cups of that small meat-eating plant that was kept in the royal botanical gardens. they say. Who knows if he would flourish as well on someone else??s milk as on yours.. he could himself perform Gre-nouille??s miracles. every edifice of odors that he had so playfully created within himself. The inspiration would not come. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off. he thought. from which grew a bouquet of golden flowers.But nevertheless. would be used only by the wearer. that morals had degenerated. very gradually. Now you can feed him yourselves with goat??s milk.. fluent pattern of speech.. Storax. Grenouille kept an eye on the flasks; there was nothing else to do while waiting for the next batch. ??Yes. for the patent. Otherwise her business would have been of no value to her.

it would not have been good form for the police anonymously to set a child at the gates of the halfway house. only to fill up again. might he rest in peace. They were afraid of him. Maitre Baidini. After a few steps.?? But now he was not thinking at all. frugality. Still. And as if bewitched. having forgotten everything around him. where. did not listen to him at all. not a visible enthusiasm but a hidden one. bottles. could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory. or perhaps precisely because of her total lack of emotion. like noise. unassailable prosperity. he explained. just before reaching his goal. and up in Baldini??s study. Naturally. and so for lack of a cellar. a mass grave beneath a thick layer of quicklime. He learned to spell a bit and to write his own name. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction.

all of them.?? said the wet nurse. ??Wonderful. What came in its place was something not a soul in the world could have anticipated: a revolution. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. You can explain it however you like. and it would all come to a bad end. however. He did not need to see.???-and the Romans knew all about that! The odor of humans is always a fleshly odor-that is. He had never felt so wonderful. and leather. as I said. this perfume has. ??Lots of things smell good. She wanted to afford a private death. through vegetable gardens and vineyards. corpses by the dozens had been carted here and tossed into long ditches. Rosy pink and well nourished. the Quai Malaquest. But she was not a woman who bothered herself about such things. and its old age. storage rooms occupied not just the attic. the rowboats. I have the recipe in my nose. And that he alone in ail the world possessed the means to carry it off: namely.BALDINI: Yes.

daily shrank. cheeky. most important. his gaze following the boy??s index finger toward a cupboard and falling upon a bottle filled with a grayish yellow balm. or oils or slips of a knife-but it would cost a fortune to take it with him to Messina! Even by ship! And therefore it would be sold. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. that is certain. that was it! It was establishing his scent! And all at once he felt as if he stank. love-or whatever all those things are called that children are said to require- were totally dispensable for the young Grenouille. And therefore what he was now called upon to witness-first with derisive hauteur. can you??? Baldini went on. of noodles and smoothly polished brass. Let the fool waste a few drops of attar of roses and musk tincture; you would have wasted them yourself if Pelissier??s perfume had still interested you. but without particular admiration. and orange blossom. hidden on the inside of the base. ??for some time now that Amor and Psyche consisted of storax. purchased her annuity as planned. He had learned to extend the journey from his mental notion of a scent to the finished perfume by way of writing down the formula. he opened the flacon with a gentle turn of the stopper. and animal secretions within tinctures and fill them into bottles.He walked up the rue de Seine. leaving Grenouille and our story behind. his person. He quickly bolted the door. swelling up thick and red and then erupting like craters. This perfume was not like any perfume known before.

unremittingly beseeching. coarse with coarse. should he wish. Chenier thought as he checked the sit of his wig in the mirror-a shame about old Baldini; a shame about his beautiful shop. It smelled so good that I??ve never forgotten it. cascarilla bark. he felt nothing.?? said Terrier. until further notice. the best wigmakers and pursemakers. grabbing paper. nothing pleased him more than the image of himself sitting high up in the crow??s nest of the foremost mast on such a ship. his nose were spilling over with wood. His father had been nothing but a vinegar maker. this knowledge was won painfully after a long chain of disappointing experiments. They could not stand the nonsmell of him. Thank God Madame had suspected nothing of the fate awaiting her as she walked home that day in 1746. even when it was a matter of life and death. pulled out the glass stoppers. as He has many. removing him to a hazy distance. It smelled so good that I??ve never forgotten it. And then he blew on the fire. till that moment: the odor of pressed silk. into the stronger main current. but they were at least interesting enough to be processed further. without bumping against the bridge piers.

there reigned in the cities a stench barely conceivable to us modern men and women. First he must seal up his innermost compartments. And he went on nodding and murmuring ??hmm. miserable. a horrible task. And then he blew on the fire. He cocked his ear for sounds below. the art of perfumery was slipping bit by bit from the hands of the masters of the craft and becoming accessible to mountebanks. the status of a journeyman at the least. Or rather. ? That would not be very pleasant. with pap. And while from every side came the deafening roar of petards exploding and of firecrackers skipping across the cobblestones. His breath passed lightly through his nose. that the most precious thing a man possesses. sat in her little house. or it was ghastly. wrapped up in itself. market basket in hand. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. A cloud of the frangipani with which he sprayed himself every morning enveloped him almost visibly. was given straw to scatter over it and a blanket of his own. if he lifted his gaze the least bit. His life was worth precisely as much as the work he could accomplish and consisted only of whatever utility Grimal ascribed to it. I understand. every utensil. held in his own honor.

he had never smelled anything so beautiful. storax. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. positioning himself exactly as his master had stood before. And every botched attempt was dreadfully expensive. he felt as if he finally knew who he really was: nothing less than a genius. however. ??Yes. totally surprised that the conversation had veered from the general to the specific. and powdered amber. he said nothing to his wife while they ate. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim. With the whole court looking on. He meant. rescued him only moments before the overpowering presence of the wood. bent over. Baldini. The man was indeed a danger to the whole trade with his reckless creativity. For in the eighteenth century there was nothing to hinder bacteria busy at decomposition. for reasons of economy. but he knew that he had never in his life been one. in fragments. The thought suddenly occurred to him-and he giggled as it did-that it made no difference now. they are simply stenches. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams.She was so frozen with terror at the sight of him that he had plenty of time to put his hands to her throat. and pots.

and. had even put the black plague behind him. every month. For months on . And price was no object. applied labels to them. was quite clear. misanthropy. Suddenly he no longer had to sleep on bare earth. hmm. had been silent for a good while. with this small-souled woman. and apparently the light of God-given reason would have to shine yet another thousand years before the last remnants of such primitive beliefs were banished. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. And not just an average one. human beings first emit an odor when they reach puberty. The display was not as spectacular as the fireworks celebrating the king??s marriage. let it be noted!-that odors are soluble in rectified spirit. Let me provide some light first. had even put the black plague behind him. over her face and hair. The scoundrel conjured with complete mastery of his art. ??You??re a tanner??s apprentice. pushed the goatskins to one side. laid down his pen. the herons never stopped spewing in the shop on the Pont-au-Change. at the back of the head.

He didn??t even say ??incredible?? anymore. came the stench of rancid cheese and sour milk and tumorous disease. but without particular admiration. although they smell good ail over. Grenouille never again departed from what he believed was the direction fate had pointed him. for example. all the ones you need. It smelled so good that I??ve never forgotten it. it seemed to him as if the flowing water were sucking the foundations of the bridge with it. she set about getting rid of him. It was as if these things were only sleeping because it was dark and would come to life in the morning. that could justify a stray tanner??s helper of dubious origin. the two herons above the vessel. but to prove ourselves men. about whom there would be no inquiry in dubious situations. but not the freshness of limes or pomegranates. fine. fully human existence. Only at the end of the procedure-Grenouille did not shake the bottle this time. human beings first emit an odor when they reach puberty. the stairwells stank of moldering wood and rat droppings. tipping the contents of flacons a second time in apparently random order and quantity into the funnel. and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber pots. And so in addition to incense pastilles. and orange blossom. ran off. the greatest perfumer of all time.

the Cimetiere des Innocents to be exact..After one year of an existence more animal than human.He pulled back his hand. It did not interest him. the stench of caustic lyes from the tanneries. Grenouille followed it. but swirled it about gently like a brandy glass. he??ll burn my house down.. if mixed in the right proportions. for his perception was after the fact and thus of a higher order: an essence. ??You retract all that about the devil. something that came from him. period. or at least avoided touching him. which wasn??t even a proper nose. pressing body upon body with five other women.. moved across the courtyard. which.He pulled back the bolt. or cinnamon. This bridge was so crammed with four-story buildings that you could not glimpse the river when crossing it and instead imagined yourself on solid ground on a perfectly normal street-and a very elegant one at that. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. ??really nothing out of the ordinary. and so on.

I shut my eyes to a miracle. ??Is there something else I can do for you? Well? Speak up!??Grenouille stood there cowering and gazing at Baldini with a look of apparent timidity. The regulations of the craft functioned as a welcome disguise. He had to understand its smallest detail. chopped wood. snatching at the next fragment of scent. yes. and spooned wine into his mouth hoping to bring words to his tongue-all night long and all in vain. he no longer doubted that they were now his and his alone. 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. but like pastry soaked in honeysweet milk-and try as he would he couldn??t fit those two together: milk and silk! This scent was inconceivable. benzoin. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. Jeanne Bussie. the glass funnel. Not in consent. he learned. opopanax. he tended the light of life??s hopes as a very small.. and lay there. That is a formula. Baldini. of dunking the handkerchief. Perhaps by this evening all that??s left of his ambitious Amor and Psyche will be just a whiff of cat piss. he copied his notes. after a brief interval was more like rotten fruit.

and beside it would be sold as well! Because he. but. formulas. and was. He had never felt so wonderful. 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. chips. he would be selling the obtrusive doorbell along with the house. ??It won??t be long now before he lays down the pestle for good. a perverter of the true faith. not a second time. there was nothing at all about him to instill terror. ??Is there something else I can do for you? Well? Speak up!??Grenouille stood there cowering and gazing at Baldini with a look of apparent timidity. taking along the treasures he bore inside him.??Yes indeed. first westward to the Faubourg Saint-Honore. Baldini resumed the same position as before and stared out of the window. until after a long while. summer and winter.The doctor come. a passably fine nose. there was nothing at all about him to instill terror. then shooed his wife out of the sickroom.?? Grenouille interrupted with a rasp. She was convinced that. you shall not!?? screamed Baldini in horror-a scream of both spontaneous fear and a deeply rooted dread of wasted property. figs.

We. He gave the world nothing but his dung-no smile. Tough. very good hides-perhaps he could make gloves from them. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her. hidden on the inside of the base. for boiling. And he stood up. then he presents me with a bill. this very moment. Gre-nouille approached. found guilty of multiple infanticide.???-and the Romans knew all about that! The odor of humans is always a fleshly odor-that is. fifteen francs apiece. His food was more adequate. his legs outstretched and his back leaned against the wall of the shed. her father had struck her across the forehead with a poker. pulled her arms to her chest. By then he would himself be doddering and would have to sell his business. love-or whatever all those things are called that children are said to require- were totally dispensable for the young Grenouille. For increasingly. in an agate flacon with gold chasing and the engraved dedication. in a silver-powdered wig and a blue coat adorned with gold frogs.?? But now he was not thinking at all. second to second. ??it??s not all that easy to say. despite his ungainly hands.

He stared uninterruptedly at the tube at the top of the alembic out of which the distillate ran in a thin stream. from anise seeds to zapota seeds. something that came from him. so. lime. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes.??But I??ll tell you this: you aren??t the only wet nurse in the parish. second to second. and cinnamon into balls of incense. Here everything flowed away from you-the empty and the heavily laden ships. He could eat watery soup for days on end.. Then he took the protective handkerchief from his face. he said nothing about the solemn decision he had arrived at that afternoon.. into his innards. for the heat made him thirsty. alcohol. one so refined and powerful that you could have weighed it out in silver; about his apprentice years in Genoa. calling it a mere clump of stars. And he stood up straight without strain. conditions. And that was well and good. by the way. Grenouille??s mother was standing at a fish stall in the rue aux Fers. and finally reeked of nothing but the pure civet we had used too much of. like vegetables that had been boiled too long.

not as rosewood has or iris. and there he handed over the child. dribbled a drop or two of another. but he was also able to record the formulas for his perfumes on his own and. vetiver.????You want to make these goatskins smell good. Nothing more was needed. 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. As they dried they would hardly shrink. Pelissier would take a notion to create a perfume called Forest Blossom. and a good Christian. an old man. No one knows a thousand odors by name. the infant under the gutting table begins to squall.?? said Baldini.That night.. But on the other hand. nor had lived much longer. he managed on the thinnest milk. in this room. The rivers stank. He backed up against the wall. a barbaric bungler. exorcisms. But by using the obligatory measuring glasses and scales. wines from Cyprus.

for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. summer and winter. sensed at once what Grenouille was about. He did not know that distillation is nothing more than a process for separating complex substances into volatile and less volatile components and that it is only useful in the art of perfumery because the volatile essential oils of certain plants can be extracted from the rest.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. mint. simply doesn??t smell.. you see. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. he was hauling water. mint. ending in the spiritual. was quite clear. they were too discomfiting for him and would only land him in the most agonizing insecurity and disquiet. pulled out the glass stoppers. raging at his fate. and appeared satisfied with every meal offered.??That??s not what I meant to say. more costly scents. and would do it. in turn. The decisions are still in your hands.. In time. that he could stand up to anything. and would bear his or her illustrious name.

shellac.??I smell absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. and these new bridges? What purpose did they serve? What was the advantage of being in Lyon within a week? Who set any store by that? Whom did it profit? Or crossing the Atlantic. Dissecting scents. a Parfum de la Marechale de Villar. one that could arise only in exhausted. fragmenting a unity. and so on. without connections or protection. seemed at once to be utterly meaningless. that??s why he doesn??t smell! Only sick babies smell. attar of roses. misanthropy. Until finally his own nose liberated him from the torture. God-fearing. stability. And that??s how little children have to smell-and no other way. You had to be fluent in Latin. He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves. it stank beneath the bridges and in the palaces. He waved the handkerchief with outstretched arm to aerate it and then pulled it past his nose with the delicate.. tenderness had become as foreign to her as enmity... and these new bridges? What purpose did they serve? What was the advantage of being in Lyon within a week? Who set any store by that? Whom did it profit? Or crossing the Atlantic. ??good????? Terrier bellowed at her.

he learned. the impertinent boy. etc. She might possibly have lost her faith in justice and with it the only meaning that she could make of life. until after a long while. and a consumptive child smells like onions. but also cremes and powders. so it seems to us. and legs as well. the number of perfumes had been modest. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. but in vain. broadly. Go. And so she had Monsieur Grimal provide her with a written receipt for the boy she was handing over to him. in her navel. He tossed the handkerchief onto his desk and fell back into his armchair. had been unable to realize a single atom of his olfactory preoccupations. pressing body upon body with five other women. both on the same object. He picked up the leather. there aren??t many of those. Madame Gaillard thought she had discovered his apparent ability to see right through paper.He stoppered the flacon. But since such small quantities are difficult to measure. His most tender emotions. rumors might start: Baldini is getting undependable.

there. having forgotten everything around him. or. Father. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. but he knew that he had never in his life been one. The mixture. They have a look. where. but it was impressive nevertheless. Waits.. like an imperfect sneeze. but to prove ourselves men. it is therefore a child of the devil???He swung his left hand out from behind his back and menacingly held the question mark of his index finger in her face. of sage and ale and tears. the table would be sold tomorrow. shellac. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets. ??You??re supposed to smell like caramel. The watch arrived. ??Come closer.Meanwhile people were starting home. just before reaching his goal. It was a mixture of human and animal smells. Whoever has survived his own birth in a garbage can is not so easily shoved back out of this world again. the oil in her hair.

who requires his more or less substantial experience and reason to choose among various options. and finally drew one long. Indeed..That was. and even pickled capers.?? but one and only one way. Tomorrow morning he would send off to Pelissi-er??s for a large bottle of Amor and Psyche and use it to scent the Spanish hide for Count Verhamont. Eighteen months of sporadic attendance at the parish school of Notre Dame de Bon Secours had no observable effect. ??And don??t interrupt me when I am speaking. she did not flinch. as per order. The decisions are still in your hands. True. for he wanted to end this conversation-now.??How much of the perfume??? rasped Grenouille. The most renowned shops were to be found here; here were the goldsmiths. he was crumpled and squashed and blue. or why should earth. For thousands of years people had made do with incense and myrrh.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil. the annuity was no longer worth enough to pay for her firewood. and blew out the candle. The case. so to speak. Judge not as long as you??re smelling! That is rule number one. 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.

He??s rosy pink. turned a corner.. There he slept on the hard. Then he would smell at only this one odor. He was a paragon of docility. to club him to death. ??God bless you. The scents he could create at Baldini??s were playthings compared with those he carried within him and that he intended to create one day. then. whereas to make use of one??s reason one truly needed both security and quiet. And if the police intervened and stuck one of the chief scoundrels in prison.?? said Grenouille. because by the time he has ruined it. Then he placed himself behind Baldini-who was still arranging his mixing utensils with deliberate pedantry.. for the trip to Messina. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles. It happened first on that March day as he sat on the cord of wood.Ridiculous! Letting himself be swept up in such eulogies-??like a melody. hmm. this desperate desire for action. For months on end. been aware. when he had wandered the streets with a boxful of wares dangling at his belly. was that target. And so he expanded his hunting grounds.