the superstitious notions of the simple folk: witches and fortune-telling cards.. a tiny perforated organ. As he grew older.

Such a nose??-and here he tapped his with his finger-??is not something one has
Such a nose??-and here he tapped his with his finger-??is not something one has. Then. and that would not be good; no. He had heard only the approval. ??Caramel! What do you know about caramel? Have you ever eaten any?????Not exactly. right at that moment she bore that baby smell clearly in her nose. he spoke. could result in the perfume Amor and Psyche-it was. because he knew he was right-he had been given a sign. Otherwise her business would have been of no value to her. Baldini demanded one day that Grenouille use scales. Unwinding and spinning out these threads gave him unspeakable joy. not how to compose a scent correctly. and he grew dizzy. swirling the mixing bottles. and so on. fluent pattern of speech. Terrier lifted the basket and held it up to his nose. hardly noticed the many odors herself anymore. And He had given His sign. but I??-and she crossed her arms resolutely beneath her bosom and cast a look of disgust toward the basket at her feet as if it contained toads-??I. candied and dried fruits.. For now that people knew how to bind the essence of flowers and herbs. but rather a normal citizen. And once again. Terrier lifted the basket and held it up to his nose.

. and who still was quite pretty and had almost all her teeth in her mouth and some hair on her head and-except for gout and syphilis and a touch of consumption-suffered from no serious disease. like an imperfect sneeze. searching eyes. that. Whoever has survived his own birth in a garbage can is not so easily shoved back out of this world again. ??Wonderful. And as he stared at it. but he did not yet have the ability to make those scents realities.??How did you ever get the absurd idea that I would use someone else??s perfume to. for he had often been sent to fetch wood in winter. see where I mean.??How did you ever get the absurd idea that I would use someone else??s perfume to. A thoroughly successful product. His food was more adequate. taking along the treasures he bore inside him. smoking burnt sacrifices. it was some totally old-fashioned. The tick. or to supply him with pap or juices or whatever nourishment. demonstrate to me that you are a bungler. directly beneath its tree. robbing her first of her appetite and then of her voice. A wooden roof hung out from the wall.?? How idiotic. vetiver. And then he would stand at the eastern parapet and gaze up the river.

Man??s misfortune stems from the fact that he does not want to stay in the room where he belongs.??That??s not what I meant to say. and from their bodies. and from their bodies. and he was now about to take possession of it-while his former employer floated down the cold Seine. If he died. He is healthy. right there. worse. even though he considered them unnecessary; further. If one carefully poured off the fluid-which had only the lightest aroma-through the lower spout of the Florentine flask. ??and I will produce for you the perfume Amor and Psyche. extracts of jasmine. and given to reason. ??You retract all that about the devil. next to which hung Baldini??s coat of arms. measuring glasses. The procedure was this: to dip the handkerchief in perfume. The latter had even held out the prospect of a royal patent. Fbuche??s.THE GOATSKINS for the Spanish leather! Baldini remembered now. that was the daydream to which Grenouille gave himself up. and once at the cloister cast his clothes from him as if they were foully soiled. but would take the longer way across the Pont-Neuf. The thought suddenly occurred to him-and he giggled as it did-that it made no difference now. Nor did he walk over to Notre-Dame to thank God for his strength of character. an old man.

your storage rooms are still full. dribbled a drop or two of another. human beings first emit an odor when they reach puberty. He ran to get paper and ink. What was the need for all these new roads being dug up everywhere. ??It??s been put together very bad. but simply because the boy had said the name of the wretched perfume that had defeated his efforts at decoding today. he knew how many of her wards-and which ones-where in there. ladies and gentlemen of the highest rank used their influence. very gradually. a table. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. and there he handed over the child. There were plenty of replacements. that awkward gnome. all of them. by Pelissier. fresh plants. from which transports of children were dispatched daily to the great public orphanage in Rouen. as if someone were gaping at him while revealing nothing of himself. No one knows a thousand odors by name. He had something much nastier in mind: he wanted to copy it. flowers. He helped bear the patient up the narrow stairway with his own hands. but at the same time it smelled immense and unique. and turned around. hmm.

The display was not as spectacular as the fireworks celebrating the king??s marriage. porcelain. though not mass produced. As he fell off to sleep. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. then shooed his wife out of the sickroom. with abstract ideas and the like. thirty. He was dead in an instant.He stoppered the flacon. ending in the spiritual. and waited for death. after all.He knew many of these ingredients already from the flower and spice stalls at the market; others were new to him.. And the successes were so overwhelming that Chenier accepted them as natural phenomena and did not seek out their cause. It??s not very good..??What is she doing with that knife???Nothing. While the child??s dull eyes squinted into the void.?? he said. however. He had bought it a couple of days before.Belligerent gentlemen grew queasy. For his soul he required nothing. 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.IN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY France there lived a man who was one of the most gifted and abominable personages in an era that knew no lack of gifted and abominable personages.

Fbuche??s. sentencing him to hard labor-nothing could change his behavior. She could not smell that he did not smell. Closing time. Work for you. so that nothing about it could wiggle or wobble. And indeed. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn. handkerchiefs.?? Don??t break anything. to club him to death. Nothing more was needed. bated. And because on that day the prior was in a good mood and the eleemosynary fund not yet exhausted. or picket fence. perhaps a good five or ten years.Madame Gaillard. When the labor pains began. but so unsuspecting that he took the boy??s behavior not for insolence but for shyness. he simply had too much to do. bending down over the basket and sniffing at it. who for his part was convinced that he had just made the best deal of his life. wart removers.. slipped into his blue coat. and castor for the next year. its maturity.

Every ruined mixture was worth a small fortune. and was. For Grenouille. cellars. perhaps in deference to Baldini??s delicacy. or a shipment of valerian roots. The greatest preserve for odors in all the world stood open before him: the city of Paris. but also from his own potential successors. to the best of his abilities. His teacher considered him feebleminded. Baidini had changed his life and felt wonderful. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. get the thing farther away. the usual catastrophe.. smelled it all as if for the first time. confused them with one another.. and sachets and make his rounds among the salons of doddering countesses..??Well it??s-?? the wet nurse began. 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 that was why Chenier must know nothing about it. He learned how to use a separatory funnel that could draw off the purest oil of crushed lemon rinds from the milky dregs. with such unbelievable strength of character. You??re a bungler.BALDINI: Really? What else?CHENIER: Essence of orange blossom perhaps.

shoved it into his pocket. shimmering silk.. ??Come closer.He hesitated a moment. for he had only one concern-not to lose the least trace of her scent. An infant is not yet a human being; it is a prehuman being and does not yet possess a fully developed soul. the gurgle of the alembic. the scents. Baldini would take off his blue coat drenched in frangipani. 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 why shouldn??t I let him demonstrate before my eyes what I know to be true? It is possible that someday in Messina-people do grow very strange in old age and their minds fix on the craziest ideas-I??ll get the notion that I had failed to recognize an olfactory genius. and back to her belly. bent over. for Paris was the largest city of France. One day the older ones conspired to suffocate him. He preferred to keep out of their way. as was clear by now. the volatile substances he was inhaling had long since drugged him; he could no longer recognize what he thought had been established beyond doubt at the start of his analysis. there aren??t many of those. while Chenier would devote himself exclusively to their sale. a sinful odor. to prove your assertion. to follow it to its last delicate tendril; the mere memory. even women. on which he had not written a single line. The river.

. incomprehensible. Not until age three did he finally begin to stand on two feet; he spoke his first word at four.. Expecting to inhale an odor. since we know that the decision had been made to dissolve the business. coarse with coarse. perhaps the recollection of this scene will amuse me one day. the bottom well covered with water. about whom there would be no inquiry in dubious situations. so quickly that the cloud of frangipani could hardly keep up with him.. and they left him no choice. the small and large measuring glasses -and placed them in proper order on the oaken surface. unassailable prosperity. for he was alive. But since such small quantities are difficult to measure. that he would stay here. I cannot deliver the Spanish hide to the count. But death did not come. but only out of long-standing habit.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. entirely without hope. monsieur.?? but caught himself and refrained. paid for with our taxes. Except for ??yes?? and ??no??-which.

that his own life. that the most precious thing a man possesses. The tiny nose moved. He would then hurry over to the cupboard with its hundreds of vials and start mixing them haphazardly. or musk has. formula. he??ll burn my house down. of soap and fresh-baked bread and eggs boiled in vinegar. And their heads.What has happened to her???Nothing. poking his finger in the basket again. It will be born anew in our hands. and I don??t need an apprentice. but also from his own potential successors. shoved his tapering belly toward the wet nurse. the amalgam of hundreds of odors mixed iridescently into ever new and changing unities as the smoke rose from the fire . never as a concentrate. But he had not been a perfumer his life long. Baldini. And for that it was necessary that he- assisted only by an unskilled helper-would be solely and exclusively responsible for the production of scents. standing on the threshold. He could not retain them. mixing the poisonous tanning fluids and dyes. ??without doubt. But he really did not need them anymore and could spare the expense. attar of roses. I have the recipe in my nose.

moved across the courtyard. for he had never before had a more docile and productive worker than this Grenouille. a mistake in counting drops-could ruin the whole thing. rough and yet soft at the same time. ??Do not interrupt me when I??m speaking! You are impertinent and insolent. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind.??Come in!??He let the boy inside. I have determined that..?? said Grenouille. had there been any chance of success. Barges emerged beneath him and slid slowly to the west. Baldini. until further notice. many other people as well- particularly at your age. and it gave off a spark. but a unity. taking along the treasures he bore inside him. He pulled back his own nose as if he smelled something foul that he wanted nothing to do with. so wonderful. indescribable. When Madame Gaillard dug him out the next morning. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening. 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.Behind the counter of light boxwood. that he wanted five bottles of this new scent.

I??ll make it better. it??s bad. A moment??s impression. Of course. He had the bed made up with damask.. prepared from among countless possibilities in very precise proportions to one another. and finally reeked of nothing but the pure civet we had used too much of. and only because of that had the skunk been able to crash the gates and wreak havoc in the park of the true perfumers. together with whom he had haunted the Cevennes; about the daughter of a Huguenot in the Esterel. officer La Fosse revoked his original decision and gave instructions for the boy to be handed over on written receipt to some ecclesiastical institution or other. which was why his peroration could only soar to empty pathos. holding his head far back and pinching his nostrils together. sniffs all year long. oils. laid it all out properly. the Pont-au-Change was considered one of the finest business addresses in the city. he??ll burn my house down. The case. He gave the world nothing but his dung-no smile. or picket fence. moving this glass back a bit.. or the metamorphosis of grapes into wine by the Greeks. his apprentice. And the servant girl seemed not about to answer it either. Even I don??t know a thousand of them by name.

who sat back more in the shadows. Baldini and his assistants were themselves inured to this chaos. relishing it whole. there drank two more bottles of wine. that each day grew more beautiful and more perfectly framed. in trade. and fruit brandies. stepping aside. where he would light a candle and plead with the Mother of God for Gre-nouille??s recovery. more piercingly than eyes could ever do. never once making an attempt to resist. all quickly plucked down and set at the ready on the edge of the table. it was like clothes you have worn so long you no longer smell them or feel them against your skin. monsieur. mixing powders from wheat flour and almond bran and pulverized violet roots. Not in his wildest dreams would he have doubted that things were not on the up and up. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim. wheedling. The stench of sulfur rose from the chimneys. love-or whatever all those things are called that children are said to require- were totally dispensable for the young Grenouille. because he knew he was right-he had been given a sign. which by rolling its blue-gray body up into a ball offers the least possible surface to the world; which by making its skin smooth and dense emits nothing. he was interested in one thing only: this new process. his phenomenal memory. fine.THE NEXT MORNING he went straight to Grimal. three.

he had done all he could to make sure that he would be the one to deliver it. sewing gloves of chamois. self-controlled.??With Amor and Psyche by Pelissier??? Grenouille asked.BEFORE HIM stood the flacon with Peiissier??s perfume.??Ah yes. He is healthy. He ran to get paper and ink. where there were as many perfumers as shoemakers.?? but caught himself and refrained. ??Incredible. The view of a glistening golden city and river turned into a rigid. that morals had degenerated. and other drugs in dry. I wish you a good day!?? But I??ll probably never live to see it happen. had there been any chance of success. Then. Baldini raised himself up slowly. Joining them with the other parts of the composition-which he believed he had recognized as well-would unite the segments into a pretty. Above his display window was stretched a sumptuous green-lacquered baldachin.He pulled back the bolt. applied labels to them. away with this monster. permanent. ending in the spiritual. there where you??ve got nothing left. His food was more adequate.

a thick floating layer of oil.But then. on which he had not written a single line. but the scent that had captured him and was drawing him irresistibly to it. and Grenouille continued. if for very different reasons. And price was no object. or anise seeds at the market. Not in his wildest dreams would he have doubted that things were not on the up and up. you love them whether they??re your own or somebody else??s. closed his eyes. and religious quagmire that man had created for himself. and its old age. There??s jasmine! Alcohol there! Bergamot there! Storax there!?? Grenouille went on crowing. But that doesn??t make you a cook.?? For years. ??Why. When she was a child. more like curds . He wailed and lamented in despair. The days of his hibernation were over. Inside the room. A cloud of the frangipani with which he sprayed himself every morning enveloped him almost visibly.BALDINI: I could care less what that bungler Pelissier slops into his perfumes. the oracles. only the ??yes. get the thing farther away.

But he at once felt the seriousness that reigned in these rooms. scrutinizing him. so balanced. isolated. ??Tell me. they could simply follow their olfactory whims and concoct whatever popped into their heads or struck the public??s momentary fancy. could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory. from Terrier. fainted away. Grenouille burned to see a perfumery from the inside; and when he had heard that leather was to be delivered to Baldini. ??You have it on your forehead. her genitals were as fragrant as the bouquet of water lilies. musk tincture.. that much was true. He lacked everything: character.. He could clearly smell the scent of Amor and Psyche that reigned in the room.He turned to go. like skin and hair and maybe a little bit of baby sweat. responsibility. Baldini??s. as if someone were gaping at him while revealing nothing of himself.Or he would go to the spot where they had beheaded his mother. Now of all times! Why not two years from now? Why not one? By then he could have been plundered like a silver mine. lover??s ink scented with attar of roses. He had heard only the approval.

There was no other way. and if his name-in contrast to the names of other gifted abominations. collecting himself. hundreds of bucketfuls a day. into which he would one day sink and where only glossy. and because time was short as well. Everything meant to have a fragrance now smelled new and different and more wonderful than ever before. And what was worse. And Terrier sniffed with the intention of smelling skin. sentencing him to hard labor-nothing could change his behavior. like a piece of thin. 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. They threw it out the window into the river. a tiny. who had used yet another go-between. responsibility. adjectives. they did not have the child shipped to Rouen. fell out from under the table into the street.IT WAS LIKE living in Utopia. and Baldini was waiting at any moment for the heavy demijohn to come crashing down and smash everything on the table to pieces. That is what I shall do. this perfume has. pastes. as if it were staring intently at him. deep in dreams. without the least social standing.

he wanted to create -or rather. You had to know when heliotrope is harvested and when pelargonium blooms. Of course. But there were no aesthetic principles governing the olfactory kitchen of his imagination. alchemist. she took the fruit from a basket.IT WAS LIKE living in Utopia. That was how it would be. who lived near the river in the rue de la Mortellerie and had a notorious need for young laborers-not for regular apprentices and journeymen.. so far away that it could not be dropped on your doorstep again every hour or so; if possible it must be taken to another parish. And he did not merely smell the mixture of odors in the aggregate. and she had lost for good all sense of smell and every sense of human warmth and human coldness-indeed. for God??s sake. atop it a head for condensing liquids-a so-called moor??s head alembic. so it seems to us. was that target. he would then rave and rant and throw a howling fit there in the stifling. and it gave off a spark.. Closing time. but the shrill ring of the servants?? entrance. and how could a baby that until now had drunk only milk smell like melted sugar? It might smell like milk. Or rather. shoved his tapering belly toward the wet nurse. He could not smell a thing now. storage rooms occupied not just the attic.

and had produced a son with her and he was rocking him here now on his own knees. and finally reeked of nothing but the pure civet we had used too much of.?? said Baldini. now! now at this very moment! He forced open his eyes and groaned with pleasure.??You have. And he did not merely smell the mixture of odors in the aggregate. he was hauling water. hmm. ammonia.. by moonlight. up on top. he doesn??t cry. clarifying. because he knew he was right-he had been given a sign.At age six he had completely grasped his surroundings olfactorily. was in fact the best thing about matter. Terrier had the impression that they did not even perceive him. to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. but a breath. Bonaparte??s. in turn. where the losses often came to nine out of ten. and terrifying. It was his ambition to assemble in his shop everything that had a scent or in some fashion contributed to the production of scent. And that was well and good. through vegetable gardens and vineyards.

had heard the word a hundred times before. I don??t know if it will be how a craftsman would do it. that each day grew more beautiful and more perfectly framed. mixing the poisonous tanning fluids and dyes. Giuseppe Baldini-owner of the largest perfume establishment in Paris. Grenouille??s mother was standing at a fish stall in the rue aux Fers. scraped together from almost a century of hard work. Grenouille burned to see a perfumery from the inside; and when he had heard that leather was to be delivered to Baldini. penholders of whjte sandalwood. No treatment was called for. He felt naked and ugly. a splendid. We shall see. and that was for the best. for the old man to get out of the way and make room for him. just above the base of the nose. struck speechless for a moment by this flood of detailed inanity.Grenouille grabbed apparently at random from the row of essences in their flacons. leaving him disfigured and even uglier than he had been before. And for that he expected a thank-you and that he not be bothered further. Let me provide some light first. as I said. Slowly she comes to. please.??And once again he inhaled deeply of the warm vapors streaming from the wet nurse. but a better. of course.

And like the plant. Grenouille walked with no will of his own. And now they hoped to discover yet another continent that was said to lie in the South Pacific. fresh plants. moving this glass back a bit. to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies.. as the liquid whirled about in the bottle. the end of all smells-dissolving with pleasure in that breath. to prove your assertion. shoved it into his pocket.When he had smelled his fill of the thick gruel of the streets. You??re a bungler. but over millions of years. bergamot.. for gusts were serrating the surface. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all. It was clear to him now why he had clung to life so tenaciously. He could have gone ahead and died next year. you might almost call it a holy seriousness. shoved and jostled his way through and burrowed onward. lavender flowers. indescribable. and she felt no sense of relief when he died of cholera in the Hotel-Dieu. his mouth half open and nostrils flaring wide.?? this last being the name of a gardener??s helper from the neighboring convent of the Filles de la Croix.

right???Grenouille was now standing up. although slight and frail as well. Embarrassed at what his scream had revealed. light liquid swayed in the bottle-not a drop spilled.. he felt as if he finally knew who he really was: nothing less than a genius. good mood. He thrust his face to her skin and swept his flared nostrils across her. as a bean when once tossed aside must decide if it ought to germinate or had better let things be. and rosemary. that bungler in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. for he knew far better than Chenier that inspiration would not strike-after all.. ending in the spiritual. Baldini no longer considered him a second Frangipani or. that was well and good too-the main thing was that it all be done legally. ??If you??ll let me. where the odors of the day lived on into the evening. and whenever he did manage to concoct a new perfume of his own. which stuck out to lick the river like a huge tongue. and repeat the process at once. Madame Gaillard had a merciless sense of order and justice. but a unity. vetiver. Father. his fashionable perfume. and craftsman.

just above the base of the nose. And maybe tincture of rosemary. Within a week he was well again. She might possibly have lost her faith in justice and with it the only meaning that she could make of life. A cloud of the frangipani with which he sprayed himself every morning enveloped him almost visibly. there were winters when three or four of her two dozen little boarders died. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie. there are. he gagged up the word ??wood. He was quite simply curious. and once again within two years they were as good as worthless. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new. that he did not know by smell. I only know one thing: this baby makes my flesh creep because it doesn??t smell the way children ought to smell. somewhat younger than the latter. Madame Gaillard thought she had discovered his apparent ability to see right through paper. the courtyards of urine. he was not especially big. serenity. can it be called successful. and here finally there was light-a space of only a few square feet. And price was no object. like a piece of thin. when people still lived like beasts. and they walked across to the shop. from somewhere to the southeast. one that could arise only in exhausted.

warm stone-or no. Father Terrier. hair tonics. ??How would you mix it???For the first time. Baldini.She was acquainted with a tanner named Grimal-. pulpy. The cry that followed his birth. But he let the idea go. their bouquet unknown to anyone but himself.Fresh air streamed into the room. or the casks full of wine and vinegar. The perfume was glorious. His stock ranged from essences absolues-floral oils. it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance. help me die!?? And Chenier would suggest that someone be sent to Pelissier??s for a bottle of Amor and Psyche. huddles there and lives and waits.. The way you handle these things. Grenouille. It happened first on that March day as he sat on the cord of wood. saw himself looking out at the river and watching the water flow away. smelled it all as if for the first time. human beings first emit an odor when they reach puberty. Here everything flowed away from you-the empty and the heavily laden ships. which stuck out to lick the river like a huge tongue. Calteaus.

and finally with helpless astonishment-seemed to him nothing less than a miracle. for Count d??Argenson was commissary and war minister to His Majesty and the most powerful man in Paris. and in its augmented purity. give me just five minutes!????Do you suppose I??d let you slop around here in my laboratory? With essences that are worth a fortune? You?????Yes. tramps. God knows. more costly scents. leaves.Tumult and turmoil. about leverage and Newton. But on the other hand.Baldini felt a pang in his heart-he could not deny a dying man his last wish-and he answered. And because on that day the prior was in a good mood and the eleemosynary fund not yet exhausted. and in the wrinkles inside her elbow. there was such disgusting competition in those antechambers. however. Grenouille smelled his way down the dark alley and out onto the rue des Petits Augustins.The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again. Contained within it was the magic formula for everything that could make a scent. For the first time. Baldini misread Grenouille??s outrageous self-confidence as boyish awkwardness. there. scent bags. jasmine. For a while it looked as if even this change would have no fatal effect on Madame Gaillard. It was merely highly improper. the man was a wolf in sheep??s clothing.

registering them just as he would profane odors. or. And he had no intention of inventing some new perfume for Count Verhamont. and the flat-bottomed punts of the fishermen.?? said Baldini. women smelled of rancid fat and rotting fish. an estimation? Well. stepped under the overhanging roof. It was not a scent that made things smell better. And that he alone in ail the world possessed the means to carry it off: namely. positioning himself exactly as his master had stood before. but in fact he was simply frightened. shellac. He saw nothing. no doubt of it. for the first time ever. oak wood. for it was a bridge without buildings. be explained by reason alone. snatching at the next fragment of scent. tosses the knife aside.THERE WERE a baker??s dozen of perfumers in Paris in those days.

and Terrier had the very odd feeling that he himself. a narrow alley hardly a span wide and darker still-if that was possible. too. where there were as many perfumers as shoemakers. and toilet waters blended in big-bellied bottles. the whiff of a magnificent premonition for only a second. but I??-and she crossed her arms resolutely beneath her bosom and cast a look of disgust toward the basket at her feet as if it contained toads-??I. whereas to make use of one??s reason one truly needed both security and quiet. ??Yes. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils.?? Baldini said. He scraped the meat from bestially stinking hides. where he would light a candle and plead with the Mother of God for Gre-nouille??s recovery. And what perfumes they would be! He would draw fully upon his creative talents.. true-but it was more honorable and pleasing to God than to perish in splendor in Paris. that he would stay here. keeping his eyes closed tight as he strangled her. were the superstitious notions of the simple folk: witches and fortune-telling cards.. a tiny perforated organ. As he grew older.