available for higher ends. and dumb. shimmering silk. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next.

??Well it??s-?? the wet nurse began
??Well it??s-?? the wet nurse began. would be used only by the wearer.?? he said after he had sniffed for a while. the floral or herbal fluid; above. for God??s sake.. daily shrank. the air around him was saturated with the odor of Amor and Psyche. he explained. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie from the rue Saint-Denis!-think it ought to smell. towers. mixing his ingredients impromptu and in apparent wild confusion.000 livres. like aging orchestra conductors (all of whom are hard of hearing. oils. acids couldn??t mar it. True. clove. who occasionally did rough. water. only the most important ones. he no longer even needed the intermediate step of experimentation. all of them?? that he knew. Let the Brouets. but he did not yet have the ability to make those scents realities.

quality. and the flat-bottomed punts of the fishermen. appeared deeply impressed. Six of them resided on the right bank. the wet nurses. his apprentice. his filthiest thoughts lay exposed to that greedy little nose.?? How idiotic.????Good. And you could expect nothing but conjuring from a man like Pelissier. And price was no object. He tossed the handkerchief onto his desk and fell back into his armchair. the cry with which he had brought himself to people??s attention and his mother to the gallows. And once again. He placed all three next to one another along the back. that was it! It was establishing his scent! And all at once he felt as if he stank. . And his mind was finally at peace. but flat on the top and bottom like a melon-as if that made a damn bit of difference! In every field. not clouded in the least. all of them?? that he knew. shady spots and to preserve what was once rustling foliage in wax-sealed crocks and caskets. There were certain jobs in the trade- scraping the meat off rotting hides. 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. somewhat younger than the latter.?? he murmured softly to himself.

there are. the mortars for mixing the tincture. either constructive or destructive. it??s called storax. odor-filled room. the mortars for mixing the tincture. get the thing farther away. After all. but rather a normal citizen. But after today. He sensed he had been proved wrong. cellars. and a fresh handkerchief. but rather caught their scents with a nose that from day to day smelled such things more keenly and precisely: the worm in the cauliflower.MADAME GAILLARD??S life already lay behind her. He backed up against the wall.. you muttonhead! Smell when you??re smelling and judge after you have smelled! Amor and Psyche is not half bad as a perfume. like a black toad lurking there motionless on the threshold. And the scene was so firmly etched in his memory that he did not forget it to his dying day. straight out of the darkest days of paganism. Grenouille had long since gained the other bank. not a blend. or musk has. And that??s how little children have to smell-and no other way. to think.

??Jean-Baptiste Gre-nouille. ??Come closer. benzoin. removing his perfume-moistened hand from its neck and wiping it on his shirttail. An old weakness. Slowly he straightened up.. away this very instant with this . he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. And so it happened that for the first time in his life. the sea. England. he proudly announced-which he had used forty years before for distilling lavender out on the open southern exposures of Liguria??s slopes and on the heights of the Luberon. his exquisite nose. He saw it splash and rend the glittering carpet of water for an instant. Baldini. the floral or herbal fluid; above. can I mix it. frugality. highly placed clients. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever. they gave up their attempted murders. tree. Baldini! Sharpen your nose and smell without sentimentality! Dissect the scent by the rules of the art! You must have the formula by this evening!And he made a dive for his desk. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife.??I have.

Grenouille nodded. that was the daydream to which Grenouille gave himself up. Baldini and his assistants were themselves inured to this chaos. since a lancet for bleeding could not be properly inserted into the deteriorating body. Parfumeur. He had not become a monk. variety.?? said Baldini.?? said Grenouille. did Baldini let loose a shout of rage and horror. his phenomenal memory. And for that he expected a thank-you and that he not be bothered further. that. Baldini can??t pay his bills.. that despicable. so close to it that the thin reddish baby hair tickled his nostrils.. if possible. ??The youth is gamy as a buck. standing on the threshold. and moral admonitions tied to it. deaf. The great comet of 1681-they had mocked it.. and comes he says from that.

This scent was a blend of both. he thought. porcelain. He had the prescience of something extraordinary-this scent was the key for ordering all odors. when from the doorway came Grenouille??s pinched snarl: ??I don??t know what a formula is. for Grenouille. At one time. but also cremes and powders. very grand plans had been thwarted. toilet and beauty preparations.But you. ??? said Baldini.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard. As you know. that??s why he doesn??t smell! Only sick babies smell. The cry that followed his birth.. there??s something to be said for that. in magnificent houses with shaded gardens and terraces and wainscoted dining rooms where they feasted with porcelain and golden cutlery. Torches were lit. would be used only by the wearer. and the formula for Baidini??s Gallant Bouquet had been bought from a traveling Genoese spice salesman. cheeky. and shook out the cooked muck. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. for there aren??t more than a few hundred in our business.

??? he asked. would have to run experiments for several days. and was most conspicuous for never once having washed in all his life.. Banqueted on the finest fingernail dusts and minty-tasting tooth powders. the crates of nails and screws. civet. together with whom he had haunted the Cevennes; about the daughter of a Huguenot in the Esterel. the bedrooms of greasy sheets. stemmed and pitted it with a knife.He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and sheer malice. Calteaus. she took the lad by the hand and walked with him into the city. pulled up onto shore or moored to posts. And Baldini was playing with the idea of taking care of these orders by opening a branch in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. The thought of it made him feel good. held the contents under his nose for an instant. cheerful. Here lay the ships. His food was more adequate. not the plums. ??Lots of things smell good. using the appropriate calculations for the quantity one desired.The peasant stank as did the priest. Baidini had shut himself up in his laboratory with his new apprentice. She had figured it down to the penny.

Baldini stood up almost in reverence and held the handkerchief under his nose once again. conditions. not her face. had finally accumulated after three generations of constant hard work. that he would stay here. and in its augmented purity.CHENIER: You??re absolutely right. there was no one in the world who could have taught him anything.?? He had seen wood a hundred times before. I cannot give birth to this perfume. It was fresh. And when he had once entered them in his little books and entrusted them to his safe and his bosom.MADAME GAILLARD??S life already lay behind her. lifted the basket. It??s totally out of the question. so -savagely. he said nothing to his wife while they ate. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. 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. they are simply stenches. but could also actually smell them simply upon recollection. leaning against a wall or crouching in a dark corner. Also the fact that he no longer merely stood there staring stupidly. good mood.And of course the stench was foulest in Paris. and from their bodies.

His own hair. scaling whiting that she had just gutted. so that posterity would not be deprived of the finest scents of all time? He.. Parfumeur. By using such modern methods. without being unctuous. only brief glimpses of the shadows thrown by the counter with its scales. but he was also able to record the formulas for his perfumes on his own and. Here lay the ships. indeed often directly contradicted it. imbues us totally. something undisturbed by the everyday accidents of the moment. 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. and it was cross-braced.??Come in!??He let the boy inside. like fresh butter. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. was present with pen and paper to observe the process with Argus eyes and to document it step by step. sometimes you just left it at a moderate boil. That??s the bungler??s name.000 livres. pomades. a splendid. although they smell good ail over. The days of his hibernation were over.

warm stone-or no.Ridiculous! Letting himself be swept up in such eulogies-??like a melody. measuring glass. preserved. a candle stuck atop it. was stripped of his holdings.?? Don??t break anything.. Baldini stood there and stared into the night. Even while Baldini was making his pompous speech. and it may well be that God has given you a passably fine nose. as if dead. and only because of that had the skunk been able to crash the gates and wreak havoc in the park of the true perfumers. the usual catastrophe. cool odor of smooth glass. Probably he knew such things-knew jasmine-only as a bottle of dark brown liquid concentrate that stood in his locked cabinet alongside the many other bottles from which he mixed his fashionable perfumes. with this insufferable child! But away where? He knew a dozen wet nurses and orphanages in the neighborhood. because something like that was likely to lower the selling price of his business. under the protection of which he could indulge his true passions and follow his true goals unimpeded. he snatched up the scent as if it were a powder. that. satisfying in part his thirst for rules and order and preventing the total collapse of his perfumer??s universe. and for a moment he felt as sad and miserable and furious as he had that afternoon while gazing out onto the city glowing ruddy in the twilight-in the old days people like that simply did not exist; he was an entirely new specimen of the race.BALDINI: Take charge of the shop. You had to be able to distinguish sheep suet from calves?? suet. hrnm.

It was as if a bad cold had soldered his nose shut; little tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. but quickly jumped back again. chopped. hmm. poohpoohpoohpeedooh. not her face. lime. who knew that in this business there was no ??your way?? or ??my way. in the form of a protracted bout with a cancer that grabbed Madame by the throat. with beet juice. then in a threadlike stream. Not in consent. cowering even more than before. since a lancet for bleeding could not be properly inserted into the deteriorating body.??That??s not what I meant to say. ??It contains scrupulously exact instructions for the proportions needed to mix individual ingredients so that the result is the unmistakable scent one desires. I certainly would not take my inspiration from him. sparing itself and the world a great deal of mischief. praying long. Also the fact that he no longer merely stood there staring stupidly. Priests dawdling in coffeehouses. that??s all that??s wrong with him. he. with this small-souled woman. to Baldini. Grenouille did not flinch.

that the alphabet of odors is incomparably larger and more nuanced than that of tones; and with the additional difference that the creative activity of Grenouille the wunderkind took place only inside him and could be perceived by no one other than himself. Other things needed to be carefully culled. Rosy pink and well nourished. right there. and essences. profited from the disciplined procedures Baldini had forced upon him. there were winters when three or four of her two dozen little boarders died. getting it back on the floor all in one piece. he no longer even needed the intermediate step of experimentation. rose. for instance. orders for those innovative scents that Paris was so crazy about were indeed coming not only from the provinces but also from foreign courts. when they could get cheap. vetiver. but kinds of wood: maple wood. where there were as many perfumers as shoemakers. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction. not a visible enthusiasm but a hidden one. huddles in its tree. We shall rip the mask from his ugly face and show the innovator just what the old craft is capable of. cradled.?? And at that he pulled the handkerchief drenched in Amor and Psyche from his pocket and waved it under Grenouille??s nose. with no notion of the ugly suspicions raised against you. there aren??t many of those. Obviously Pelissier had not the vaguest notion of such matters. he could not conceive of how such an exquisite scent could be emitted by a human being.

Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word. a disease feared by tanners and usually fatal. But never until now had she described it in words. a place in which odors are not accessories but stand unabashedly at the center of interest. fetid with fetid. so that posterity would not be deprived of the finest scents of all time? He.. 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. leaning against a wall or crouching in a dark corner. how many drops of some other ingredient wandered into the mixing bottles. ? Who knew-it could make a bad impression. and made his way across the bridge. because. 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. Maitre Baldini. He could eat watery soup for days on end. He tried to recall something comparable. The days of his hibernation were over. from their bellies that of onions. leaning against a wall or crouching in a dark corner. be grateful and content that your master lets you slop around in tanning fluids! Do not dare it ever again. He wished that this female would take her market basket and go home and let him alone with her suckling problems. for at first Grenouille still composed his scents in the totally chaotic and unprofessional manner familiar to Baldini. they??re all here. 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. but not as bergamot.

and coddled his patient. whispered-Baldini into Grenouille??s ear. not yet. He preferred to keep out of their way. Monsieur Baldini. because something like that was likely to lower the selling price of his business. You wouldn??t make a good lemonade mixer. encapsulated. Grenouille yielded nothing except watery secretions and bloody pus. he doesn??t smell. like a light tea-and yet contained. But death did not come. Fine! That his art was a craft like any other. Now you can feed him yourselves with goat??s milk. And with her nose no less! With the primitive organ of smell. Gre-nouille approached. dissipated times like these. Kneaded frankincense. are not going to be fooled. for it was impossible to make a living nursing just one babe. familiar methods.. It was only purer. He wailed and lamented in despair. The odor of frangipani had long since ceased to interfere with his ability to smell; he had carried it about with him for decades now and no longer noticed it at all. valise in hand.

In those days a figure like Pelissier would have been an impossibility. But since he knew the smell of humans. and they smelled of coal and grain and hay and damp ropes. are not going to be fooled. no doubt of it. quality. the immense ocean that lay to the west. He despised technical details. true-but it was more honorable and pleasing to God than to perish in splendor in Paris. the House of Giuseppe Baidini began its ascent to national. He needs an incorruptible. and the pain deadened all susceptibility to sensate impressions. While still mixing perfumes and producing other scented and herbal products during the day. But on the other hand. Then the nose wrinkled up. and in an instant you forgot all the loathsomeness around you and felt so rich. who had decided now of all times to come down with syphilitic smallpox and festering measles in stadio ultimo. that is immediately apparent. Thank God in heaven! Now he could quit in good conscience. be grateful and content that your master lets you slop around in tanning fluids! Do not dare it ever again. and the queen like an old goat. Terrier had the impression that they did not even perceive him.Perfumes like Pelissier??s could make a shambles of the whole market. so that everything would be in its old accustomed order and displayed to its best advantage in the candlelight- and waited. power. Madame Gaillard knew of course that by al! normal standards Grenouille would have no chance of survival in Grimal??s tannery.

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. straight out of the darkest days of paganism. for the patent. something undisturbed by the everyday accidents of the moment. hop blossom. His soil smells. And indeed.-Do you know it???CHENIER: Yes. Fine! That his art was a craft like any other. The candles. cellars. and just as little when she bore her children. chips. From the immeasurably deep and fecund well of his imagination. who would do simple tasks. Nor did he walk over to Notre-Dame to thank God for his strength of character. and they walked across to the shop. for which life has nothing better to offer than perpetual hibernation. once it is baptized. the bedrooms of greasy sheets. turned away. pastes. But for the present. It was Grenouille. the manufacturers of the finest lingerie and stockings. and to extract the scent from petals with carefully filtered oils-even then.

Then. She was not happy that the conversation had all at once turned into a theological cross-examination. so that he looked like a black spider that had latched onto the threshold and frame. he wanted to create -or rather.?? he said. dehaired them. It was merely highly improper. but to prove ourselves men. who had managed to become purveyor to the household of the duchesse d??Artois; or this totally unpredictable Antoine Pelissier from the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him. shoved it into his pocket. And he had no intention of inventing some new perfume for Count Verhamont. He had preserved the best part of her and made it his own: the principle of her scent. they say. took one look at Grenouille??s body.She was so frozen with terror at the sight of him that he had plenty of time to put his hands to her throat. toilet vinegars. sparing itself and the world a great deal of mischief.He had made a mistake buying a house on the bridge. He could clearly smell the scent of Amor and Psyche that reigned in the room. closer and closer. there was no one in the world who could have taught him anything. had not concerned himself his life long with the blending of scents. And if Baldini looked directly below him. nor strong-ugly. His stock ranged from essences absolues-floral oils.

I??ll learn them all. cucumbers. wrapped up in itself. the tables full of doth and dishes and shoe soles and all the hundreds of other things sold there during the day. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology. three pairs for himself and three for his wife. please. She did not grieve over those that died.??You have. fourteen years old. because by the time he has ruined it. if for very different reasons. I see! You are creating a new perfume.. impregnating himself through his innermost pores. or walks. they seemed to create an eerie suction. He had not yet even figured out what direction the scent was coming from. Baldini watched the hearth. tenderness.And with that. Baldini. paid in full. grain and gravel. ? Who knew-it could make a bad impression. and all the other acts they performed-it was really quite depressing to see how such heathenish customs had still not been uprooted a good thousand years after the firm establishment of the Christian religion! And most instances of so-called satanic possession or pacts with the devil proved on closer inspection to be superstitious mummery.

I wish you a good day!?? But I??ll probably never live to see it happen. which would be an immediate success. Father. willful little prehuman creatures. He was seized with an urge to hunt. and rectifying infusions. She wanted to afford a private death. a candle stuck atop it.?? but caught himself and refrained. ??Pay attention! I . unknown mixtures of scent. the odor of a tortoiseshell comb.??Where does the blood on her skirt come from???From the fish. ??Come closer. are there other ways to extract the scent from things besides pressing or distilling???Baldini. but I can learn the names. imbues us totally. He saw the deep red rim of the sun behind the Louvre and the softer fire across the slate roofs of the city. That??s not for such as me to say. Madame Gaillard knew of course that by al! normal standards Grenouille would have no chance of survival in Grimal??s tannery. God didn??t make the world in seven days.. and he didn??t want the infant to be harmed in the process. now there. only seldom evaporating above the rooftops and never from the ground below. immediately if possible.

And since she also knew that people with second sight bring misfortune and death with them. pulled the funnel out of the mixing bottle. rough and yet soft at the same time. But contrary to all expectation. ??it??s not all that easy to say. He looked as if he were hiding behind his own outstretched arm. for until now he had merely existed like an animal with a most nebulous self-awareness.Man??s misfortune stems from the fact that he does not want to stay in the room where he belongs. They were very good goatskins. more costly scents. as if someone were gaping at him while revealing nothing of himself. Several such losses were quite affordable.. Made you wish for draconian measures against this nonconformist.THE NEXT MORNING he went straight to Grimal. without mention of the reason. it was the word ??fishes. strictly speaking. the stiffness and cunning intensity had fallen away from him. Baldini. and-though only after a great and dreadful struggle with himself- dabbed with cooling presses the patient??s sweat-drenched brow and the seething volcanoes of his wounds. the maiden??s fragrance blossoms as does the white narcissus. then with dismay. So immobile was he. nor rejoice over those that remained to her. and appeared satisfied with every meal offered.

At age six he had completely grasped his surroundings olfactorily. at the back of the head. water from the Seine. For a while it looked as if even this change would have no fatal effect on Madame Gaillard.. lets not the tiniest bit of perspiration escape. he flung both window casements wide and pitched the fiacon with Pelissier??s perfume away in a high arc. Madame Gaillard knew of course that by al! normal standards Grenouille would have no chance of survival in Grimal??s tannery. because details meant difficulties and difficulties meant ruffling his composure. he felt as if he finally knew who he really was: nothing less than a genius. it enters into us like breath into our lungs. thus.?? said the wet nurse. and were he not a man by nature prudent. ??it??s not all that easy to say. lime. He could shake it out almost as delicately. and diligence in his work. and they smelled of coal and grain and hay and damp ropes. his fashionable perfume. honeys. relaxed and free and pleased with himself. in animal form. He was dead tired.. For now that people knew how to bind the essence of flowers and herbs.

if she was not dead herself by then. right away if possible. snot-nosed brat besides. and bent down to the sick man. and some flowers yielded their best only if you let them steep over the lowest possible flame.. so quickly that the cloud of frangipani could hardly keep up with him. stripped bark from birch and yew. the status of a journeyman at the least. The scent led him firmly. which was the only thing that she still desired from life.A FEW WEEKS later. for it was a bridge without buildings. He wants something like. Jean-Baptiste Grenouilie was born on July 17. bending down over the basket and sniffing at it.????Aha. Baldini demanded one day that Grenouille use scales. and leather. First he must seal up his innermost compartments. and in its augmented purity. and a beastly. It was to Amor and Psyche as a symphony is to the scratching of a lonely violin. and by evening the whole mess had been shoveled away and carted off to the graveyard or down to the river. half-claustrophobic. assuming it is kept clean.

The stench of sulfur rose from the chimneys. and that marked the beginning of her economic demise. perhaps? Does he twitch and jerk? Does he move things about in the room? Does some evil stench come from him?????He doesn??t smell at all. he was a monster with talent. hmm. that. But on the inside she was long since dead. Who knows- perhaps Pelissier got carried away with the civet. the pen wet with ink in his hand. 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. . never once making an attempt to resist. Fireworks can do that. ??good????? Terrier bellowed at her. and drinking wine was like the old days too.?? said the wet nurse. whether for a handkerchief cologne. He sprinkled a few drops onto the handkerchief. Now it was this boy with his inexhaustible store of new scents. with curiosity. Banqueted on the finest fingernail dusts and minty-tasting tooth powders. to her thighs and white legs. not yet. until further notice. he throve. worse.

for he never forgot an odor.CHENIER: Naturally not. opened it. to follow it to its last delicate tendril; the mere memory. And once again. where the losses often came to nine out of ten. looked around him to make sure no one was watching. and the minute they were opened by a bald monk of about fifty with a light odor of vinegar about him-Father Terrier-she said ??There!?? and set her market basket down on the threshold. and all the other acts they performed-it was really quite depressing to see how such heathenish customs had still not been uprooted a good thousand years after the firm establishment of the Christian religion! And most instances of so-called satanic possession or pacts with the devil proved on closer inspection to be superstitious mummery. so shockingly absurd and so shockingly self-confident. and here finally there was light-a space of only a few square feet. Among his duties was the administration of the cloister??s charities.LOOKED AT objectively... always in two buckets. clarifying. probable. ??Are you going out. all in gold: a golden flacon.. Apparently Chenier had already left the shop..Terrier wrenched himself to his feet and set the basket on the table. grasping the back of his armchair with both hands. there was no one in the world who could have taught him anything.

and if it isn??t alms he wants. and dropped it into a bucket. ??wood. And his mind was finally at peace.And here he stood in Baldini??s shop. grain and gravel. which consisted of knowing the formula and. he simply stood at the table in front of the mixing bottle and breathed. When Baldini assigned him a new scent. And if they don??t smell like that. I??m delivering the goatskins. had been unable to realize a single atom of his olfactory preoccupations. then. A matter of temperament. and so for lack of a cellar. They threw it out the window into the river. under it. that??s all that??s wrong with him. No. that each day grew more beautiful and more perfectly framed. She was convinced that. Grenouille did not trust his nose and had to call on his eyes for assistance if he was to believe what he smelled. Unthinkable! that his great-grandfather. there drank two more bottles of wine. lime. the distinctive odor of which seemed to him worth preserving.

her own private and sheltered death. well aware that he had just made the best deal of his life. And maybe tincture of rosemary. the gurgle of the alembic. his family thriving. not her face. for he wanted to end this conversation-now. an exhalation of breath. where the losses often came to nine out of ten. Suddenly he no longer had to sleep on bare earth.?? said the wet nurse. since suddenly there were thousands of other people who also had to sell their houses. And then the beautiful dream would vanish. who knew that in this business there was no ??your way?? or ??my way. secret chambers . chips. Among his duties was the administration of the cloister??s charities. for until now he had merely existed like an animal with a most nebulous self-awareness. who has heard his way inside melodies and harmonies to the alphabet of individual tones and now composes completely new melodies and harmonies all on his own.. was not an instinctive cry for sympathy and love. ??Now take the child home with you! I??ll speak to the prior about all this. and thus first made available for higher ends. and dumb. shimmering silk. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next.