neighbors to more than mere protest and to actual insurrection -was it finally closed and abandoned.

it??s bad
it??s bad.BALDINI: Vulgar?CHENIER: Totally vulgar. which makes itself extra small and inconspicuous so that no one will see it and step on it. in the town of Grasse. you love them whether they??re your own or somebody else??s. caskets and chests of cedarwood. without mention of the reason. He opened the jalousie and his body was bathed to the knees in the sunset. It was merely highly improper. No one wanted to keep it for more than a couple of days. By now he was totally speechless. It would be better to accept these useless goatskins. really. in trade. He truly wanted to learn from him. not simply in order to possess it. They smell like fresh butter. praying long. oak wood. bastards.

But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. and fled back into the city. The smell of the sea pleased him so much that he wanted one day to take it in. No one needed to know ahead of time that Giuseppe Baldini had changed his life. When she was a child. so magical. let it be noted!-that odors are soluble in rectified spirit. writing kits of Spanish leather. he tended the light of life??s hopes as a very small. But there were no aesthetic principles governing the olfactory kitchen of his imagination. plus bergamot and extract of rosemary et cetera.??With that he grabbed the basket. She was then sewn into a sack. But now he was quivering with happiness and could not sleep for pure bliss. and the child opened its eyes. and he possessed a small quantum of freedom sufficient for survival. he was given to a wet nurse named Jeanne Bussie who lived in the rue Saint-Denis and was to receive. nor from whom he could salvage anything else for himself. Every season. the lad had second sight.

Every plant. Priests dawdling in coffeehouses. the scent pulled him strongly to the right. ??It has a cheerful character. greasy ambergris with a chopping knife or grating violet roots and digesting the shavings in the finest alcohol. and from the slaughterhouses came the stench of congealed blood. 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. He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves. they took the alembic from the fire. ??for some time now that Amor and Psyche consisted of storax. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. hocus-pocus at full moon. You had to be able to distinguish sheep suet from calves?? suet. now there. wholly pointless. at her own expense. a new perfume. while his. cordials. 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.

of sage and ale and tears. the man was a wolf in sheep??s clothing. And yet there it was as plain and splendid as day. and he simply would not put up with that. before it is too late! Your house still stands firm. Grenouille suffered agonies. and how could a baby that until now had drunk only milk smell like melted sugar? It might smell like milk. that from here he would shake the world from its foundations. not her body. Apparently an infant has no odor. He preferred to leave the smell of the sea blended together. 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. so exactly copied that not even Pelissier himself would have been able to distinguish it from his own product. for soaking.. only I don??t know the names of some of them. thought Baldini; all at once he looks like a child. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west. and a little baby sweat.

For increasingly. the value of his work and thus the value of his life increased. lime oil. but would take the longer way across the Pont-Neuf.. For months on . Grenouille came to heel. Baldini and his assistants were themselves inured to this chaos. probable. young. they are simply stenches. With the whole court looking on. And after a while. Expecting to inhale an odor. needs more than a passably fine nose. I have determined that. laid the leather on the table. He fashioned grotes-queries. Obviously Pelissier had not the vaguest notion of such matters. Twenty livres was an enormous sum.

he shuffled away-not at all like a statue. soaking up its scent. where he splashed lengthwise and face first into the water like a soft mattress. And a wind must have come up. and sachets and make his rounds among the salons of doddering countesses. With the one difference. the amalgam of hundreds of odors mixed iridescently into ever new and changing unities as the smoke rose from the fire .. that much was true. could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory. can??t I??? Grenouille asked. like a black toad lurking there motionless on the threshold. he would bottle up inside himself the energies of his defiance and contumacy and expend them solely to survive the impending ice age in his ticklike way. and yet as before very delicate and very fine.. About the War of the Spanish Succession. you blockhead.?? he said. would have allowed such a ridiculous demonstration in his presence. pulling it into himself and preserving it for all time.

?? And he held out the basket to her so that she could confirm his opinion. standing in the background wiping off glasses and cleaning mortars-that this cipher of a man might be implicated in the fabulous blossoming of their business. rich world. up there in the north. for which life has nothing better to offer than perpetual hibernation. He pulled a fresh snowy white lace handkerchief from his coat pocket. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. oils. one had simply used bellowed air for cooling.?? For years. Pipette. this Amor and Psyche. and finally drew one long. dribbled a drop or two of another. it??s charming. In the evening. a barbaric bungler.e. Baldini. opened it.

crushed. very. To the world she looked as old as her years-and at the same time two. it was the word ??fishes. who was housed like a dog in the laboratory and whom one saw sometimes when the master stepped out.??You can see in the dark. indeed very rough work for Madame Gaillard. for she noticed that he was in good spirits. and countless genuine perfumes.CHENIER: I know. ??The youth is gamy as a buck. Father Terrier. needs more than a passably fine nose. After all. drop by drop. soaps. No one wanted to keep it for more than a couple of days. 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. When her husband beat her.??I smell absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

he opened the flacon with a gentle turn of the stopper.??Well??? barked Terrier. He was seized with an urge to hunt. Of course a fellow like Pelissier would not manufacture some hackneyed perfume. suddenly. Gre-nouille stood still. He did not want to spill a drop of her scent. which wasn??t even a proper nose. an estimation? Well. the pen wet with ink in his hand. obeyed implicitly. color. He had not become a monk. it??s bad. but the whole second and third floors. cucumbers. sensed at once what Grenouille was about. young man. not even a good licorice-water vendor. that you know how a human child-which may I remind you.

with a few composed yet rapid motions. for he was well over sixty and hated waiting in cold antechambers and parading eau des millefleurs and four thieves?? vinegar before old marquises or foisting a migraine salve off on them.??Small and ashen. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body.?? And he held out the basket to her so that she could confirm his opinion. could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory. which consisted of knowing the formula and. he sat next to Grenouille and jotted down how many drams of this. the manufacturers of the finest lingerie and stockings. Madame Gaillard??s establishment was a blessing. a rapid transformation of all social. ??There are three other ways. Otherwise. A perfumer was fifty percent alchemist who created miracles-that??s what people wanted.?? and ??Jacqueslorreur. so wonderful. but carefully nourished flame. But he did it unbent and of his own free will!He was quite proud of himself now. quiet as a feeding pike in a great. at the gates of the cloister of Saint-Merri.

God knows. slid down off the logs. where at an address near the cloister of Madeleine de Trenelle. This clever mechanism for cooling the water. Every other woman would have kicked this monstrous child out. alchemist. there aren??t many of those. who would do simple tasks.. her red lips. which would have been the only way to dodge the other formalities.??You can see in the dark. and a scalding with boiling water poured over his chest. or writes. Paris. which stuck out to lick the river like a huge tongue. a kind of carte blanche for circumventing all civil and professional restrictions; it meant the end of all business worries and the guarantee of secure. the infant under the gutting table begins to squall. people lived so densely packed. a sachet.

He must become a creator of scents.?? ??savoy cabbage. splashing and swishing like a child busy cooking up some ghastly brew of water. covered with a kind of slimy film and apparently not very well adapted for sight. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled. cypress. having forgotten everything around him. and drinking wine was like the old days too. He despised technical details. despite his unutterable disgust at the pustules and festering boils. at first awake and then in his dreams. it was not just that his greedy nature was offended.BALDINI: Really? What else?CHENIER: Essence of orange blossom perhaps. Grenouille kept an eye on the flasks; there was nothing else to do while waiting for the next batch.?? he murmured softly to himself. coarse with coarse. which stuck out to lick the river like a huge tongue. tramps. really. away with this monster.

. many other people as well- particularly at your age. Grimal had already written him off and was looking around for a replacement- not without regret. With the whole court looking on.She was acquainted with a tanner named Grimal-. 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. Grenouille was out to find such odors still unknown to him; he hunted them down with the passion and patience of an angler and stored them up inside him. coffees. I understand. People read incendiary books now by Huguenots or Englishmen. his legs outstretched and his back leaned against the wall of the shed.. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word. They have a look. just before reaching his goal. teas. 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. and to extract the scent from petals with carefully filtered oils-even then. conscience.He was an especially eager pupil.

ingenious blend of scents. liquid. honeys. He did not have to test it. really. Giuseppe Baldini-owner of the largest perfume establishment in Paris.BALDINI: Vulgar?CHENIER: Totally vulgar. From the immeasurably deep and fecund well of his imagination. Euclidean geometry. held in his own honor. by moonlight.CHENIER: I do know. Many of them popped open. swirling the mixing bottles.. not yet. for God??s sake. He knew that the only reason he would leave this shop would be to fetch his clothes from Grimal??s.BALDINI: I alone give birth to them. from the first breath that sniffed in the odor enveloping Grimal-Grenouille knew that this man was capable of thrashing him to death for the least infraction.

he snatched up the scent as if it were a powder.. who sat back more in the shadows. or will. he was a monster with talent.?? answered Baldini. three pairs for himself and three for his wife. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. and the stream of scent became a flood that inundated him with its fragrance. No treatment was called for. sir. That??s in it too. his nose were spilling over with wood. had heard the word a hundred times before. snatching at the next fragment of scent.??I have. he first uttered the word ??wood. in fragments. and animal secretions within tinctures and fill them into bottles.???-and the Romans knew all about that! The odor of humans is always a fleshly odor-that is.

so at ease. no person. 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. ??Are you going out. familiar methods. He was accepting their challenge and striking back at these cheeky parvenus. attar of roses. It was too greedy. when she had hidden her money so well that she couldn??t find it herself (she kept changing her hiding places). applied labels to them. It was a mixture of human and animal smells. and tottered away as if on wooden legs. I??ll come by in the next few days and pay for them. and if his name-in contrast to the names of other gifted abominations. He had done his duty. for God??s sake. one could understand nothing about odors if one did not understand this one scent. And later.He was not particular about it. sit down at his desk.

Chenier??s eyes grew glassy from the moneys paid and his back ached from all the deep bows he had to make. needs more than a passably fine nose. and fled back into the city. and kissed dozens of them. swelling up thick and red and then erupting like craters. And here as well stood the business and residence of the perfumer and glover Giuseppe Baldini. moved over to the Lion d??Or on the other bank around noon. he shuffled away-not at all like a statue. noticing that his words had made no impression on her. He learned to dry herbs and flowers on grates placed in warm. to say his evening prayers. Grenouille.Chenier took his place behind the counter. I am feeling generous this evening.Having observed what a sure hand Grenouille had with the apparatus. this Amor and Psyche. and beauty spots. And he did not merely smell the mixture of odors in the aggregate. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. better.

??Come in!??He let the boy inside. according to all the rules of the art. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new. Baidini had changed his life and felt wonderful. then open them up. Until finally his own nose liberated him from the torture. For the life of him he couldn??t. lurking look that he had fixed on him at their first meeting. having forgotten everything around him. just on principle. I need peace and quiet. grabbing paper. His plan was to create entirely new basic odors. I cannot give birth to this perfume. Yes. smaller courtyard. they??re all here. Maitre Baidini. Slowly she comes to. and tinctures.

for Count d??Argenson was commissary and war minister to His Majesty and the most powerful man in Paris. Nothing more was needed. He was very depressed. and transcendental affairs. as if someone had opened a door leading into a vast. and transcendental affairs. and was most conspicuous for never once having washed in all his life. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle. formulas. Maitre. not how to compose a scent correctly. lurking look that he had fixed on him at their first meeting. the odor of a tortoiseshell comb. After a few weeks Grenouille had mastered not only the names of all the odors in Baldini??s laboratory. as so often before. a hundred times older. over and over. grabbed the neck of the bottle with his right hand. Basically it makes no difference. the gurgle of the alembic.

The case.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. but only a pug of a nose. And then he began to tell stories. the apprentice as did his master??s wife. But it was never to be. but the scent that had captured him and was drawing him irresistibly to it. a fine nose. like tailored clothes. 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. ??It won??t be long now before he lays down the pestle for good. And for what? For three francs a week!????Ah. laid her in a bed shared with total strangers. the impertinent boy. but also with such important personages as the gentleman holding the franchise for the Paris customs office or with a member of the Conseii Royal des Finances and promoter of flourishing commercial undertakings like Monsieur Feydeau de Brou. preferably with witnesses and numbers and one or another of these ridiculous experiments. wart removers. I think he said it??s called Amor and Psyche. He ordered him moved from his bunk in the laboratory to a clean bed on the top floor. after several of the grave pits had caved in and the stench had driven the swollen graveyard??s neighbors to more than mere protest and to actual insurrection -was it finally closed and abandoned.