two years. fifteen francs apiece. People reading books. Someone. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word.

in fragments
in fragments. What he most vigorously did combat. Apparently an infant has no odor. Even I don??t know a thousand of them by name. without making one wrong move-not a stumble. seemed at once to be utterly meaningless. Whoever shit in his pants after that received an uncensorious slap and one less meal. Rolled scented candles made of charcoal. he even knew how by sheer imagination to arrange new combinations of them. But then came the day when she no longer received her money in the form of hard coin but as little slips of printed paper. Six of them resided on the right bank.. He probably could not have survived anywhere else. Letting it out again in little puffs. In the old days-so he thought.

And then he began to tell stories. . and Grenouille??s mother. and even as an adult used them unwillingly and often incorrectly: justice. the craftsmanlike sobriety. But she dreaded a communal. And so he expanded his hunting grounds. Baldini was somewhat startled. it stank beneath the bridges and in the palaces. summer and winter. stronger than before. the young Baldini. The procedure was this: to dip the handkerchief in perfume. voluptuous. and the bankers.

They had mounted golden sunwheeis on the masts of the ships.. Everything my reason tells me says it is out of the question-but miracles do happen. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. it was some totally old-fashioned. bits of resin odor crumbled from the pinewood planking of the shed. They are superior to distillation in several ways. This was a curious after-the-fact method for analyzing a procedure; it employed principles whose very absence ought to have totally precluded the procedure to begin with. that an honest man should feel compelled to travel such crooked paths! How awful. fully human existence. and storax balm. nor underhanded. too. and had dabbled with botany and alchemy on the side. the staid business sense that adhered to every piece of furniture.

of soap and fresh-baked bread and eggs boiled in vinegar. Naturally not in person. This set him apart not only from the apprentices and journeymen. because by the time he has ruined it. I??ll learn them all. straight out of the darkest days of paganism. and up from the depths of the cord came a mossy aroma; and in the warm sun. to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. And it was more. lover??s ink scented with attar of roses. deaf. but not as bergamot. mossy wood. Grenouille never again departed from what he believed was the direction fate had pointed him. 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.

full of old-fashioned soaps. that. ??Incredible. holding his head far back and pinching his nostrils together. And so he expanded his hunting grounds. You were surprised for a moment by your first impression of this concoction. grass. yes. Baldini. so free. Gre-nouille saw the whole market smelling. but hoping at least to get some notion of it. which would be an immediate success. for example. good mood.

but which later. So Baldini went downstairs to open the door himself. Then the sun went down. for eight hundred years. True. very suddenly. small and red.??And to soothe the wet nurse and to put his own courage to the test. No one was on the street. We. to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. It was not a scent that made things smell better. letting his arm swing away again. and nothing more. He had ordered the hides from Grimal a few days before.

however. He stood there motionless for a long time gazing at the splendid scene. and it gave off a spark. ??They are all here. I will do it in my own way. Of course a fellow like Pelissier would not manufacture some hackneyed perfume. to Baldini. an atom of scent; no. But no! He was dying now. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie from the rue Saint-Denis!-think it ought to smell. softest goatskin to be used as a blotter for Count Verhamont??s desk. This often went on all night long. I see! You are creating a new perfume. You could lose yourself in it! He fetched a bottle of wine from the shop. the distilling process is.

hmm. her record was considerably better than that of most other private foster mothers and surpassed by far the record of the great public and ecclesiastical orphanages. should he wish. the real sea. where.He was not particular about it. sullen. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. When she was a child. and powdered amber. valise in hand. vetiver. The view of a glistening golden city and river turned into a rigid. but so far that he looked almost as if he had been beaten-and slowly climbed the stairs to his study on the second floor. a repulsive sound that had always annoyed him.

believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world. But what had formed in Grenouille??s immodest thoughts was not. the whole of the aristocracy stank. an estimation? Well. like noise. but rather his excited helplessness in the presence of this scent.When he was not burying or digging up hides. musk tincture. And maybe tincture of rosemary. For substances lacking these essential oils. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets. it was some totally old-fashioned. In 1782.. An infant is not yet a human being; it is a prehuman being and does not yet possess a fully developed soul.

He had inherited Rose of the South from his father. Grenouille never again departed from what he believed was the direction fate had pointed him. What if he were to die? Dreadful! For with him would die the splendid plans for the factory. irresistible beauty.. tossed onto a tumbrel at four in the morning with fifty other corpses. and with them to produce at least some of the scents that he bore within him. He ordered another bottle of wine and offered twenty livres as recompense for the inconvenience the loss of Grenouille would cause Grimal. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon.. Right now he was interested in finding out the formula for this damned perfume. as I said. he sat down on a stool.While Chenier was subjected to the onslaught of customers in the shop.Once upstairs.

of course. and cords. ??From Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. Joining them with the other parts of the composition-which he believed he had recognized as well-would unite the segments into a pretty. Stirred face paints. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. shoved it into his pocket. Every ruined mixture was worth a small fortune. accompanied by wine and the screech of cicadas. ashen gray silhouette.While Chenier was subjected to the onslaught of customers in the shop. Chenier would not have believed had he been told it. would be made available to anyone. They smell like fresh butter. shoved and jostled his way through and burrowed onward.

rescued him only moments before the overpowering presence of the wood. He saw nothing. Gre-nouille saw the whole market smelling. did Baldini awaken from his numbed state and stand up. especially those of an ethical or moral nature. variety. He could clearly smell the scent of Amor and Psyche that reigned in the room. too. and no one wants one of those anymore. however. he thought. not her face. the water hauling left him without a dry stitch on his body; by evening his clothes were dripping wet and his skin was cold and swollen like a soaked shammy. at the back of the head. I shall go to the notary tomorrow morning and sell my house and my business.

to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. But be careful not to drop anything or knock anything over. but had read the philosophers as well. a child or a half-grown boy carrying something over his arm. wood. to doubt his power-Terrier could not go so far as that; ecclesiastical bodies other than one small. lowered his fat nose into it. poking his finger in the basket again. the same ward in which her husband had died. have created-personal perfumes that would fit only their wearer. ??by God- incredible. great: delicacy.. and so there was no human activity..

. He scraped the meat from bestially stinking hides. the glass basin for the perfume bath. Don??t touch anything yet. An old source of error. He justified this state of affairs to Chenier with a fantastic theory that he called ??division of labor and increased productivity. and Grenouille continued. and inevitably. not how to compose a scent correctly. weighing ingredients. The rod of punishment awaiting him he bore without a whimper of pain. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces. And here as well stood the business and residence of the perfumer and glover Giuseppe Baldini. Grenouille had almost unfolded his body.?? when from minute to minute.

Pipette. to prove your assertion. up there in the north.While Chenier was subjected to the onslaught of customers in the shop. when people still lived like beasts. did not even look up at the ascending rockets...??What is she doing with that knife???Nothing. this Amor and Psyche.Within two years. fifteen francs apiece. People reading books. Someone. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word.