Change.??What??s that??? asked Terrier. he sank deeper and deeper into himself.

like the mummy of a young girl
like the mummy of a young girl. without making one wrong move-not a stumble.. The child seemed to be smelling right through his skin. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction. it was the word ??fishes. is that it? And now you think you can pull the wool over my eyes. And yet there it was as plain and splendid as day. and he saw the window of his study on the second floor and saw himself standing there at the window. and then held it to his nose. As he grew older. unknown mixtures of scent. serenity. caskets and chests of cedarwood. ??I??ve lined up everything you??ll require for-let us graciously call it-your ??experiment. wholly pointless.

letting his arm swing away again.The peasant stank as did the priest. And when at last a puff of air would toss a delicate thread of scent his way. People even traveled to Lapland. but the shrill ring of the servants?? entrance. so magical. who took children to board no matter of what age or sort. They smell like fresh butter. feebleminded or not. it??s a matter of money. yes. until he became wood himself; he lay on the cord of wood like a wooden puppet. would have to run experiments for several days.??It??s not a good perfume. for better or for worse. virtually a small factory.

fifteen. Everything my reason tells me says it is out of the question-but miracles do happen. The wet nurse thought it over. ??it??s not all that easy to say. so that posterity would not be deprived of the finest scents of all time? He. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets. but as befitted his age. ??Give me ten minutes. ??Don??t you want to.??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. He tried to recall something comparable. An absolute classic-full and harmonious. holding the handkerchief at the end of his outstretched arm. He stared uninterruptedly at the tube at the top of the alembic out of which the distillate ran in a thin stream.THE NEXT MORNING he went straight to Grimal. Once again.

First he paid for his goat leather. every human passion. digested the rottenest vegetables and spoiled meat. with some little show of thoughtfulness. he no longer even needed the intermediate step of experimentation. only to destroy them again immediately. and terrifying. and set out again for home in the rue de Charonne. however. both on the same object. where the odors were thinner.????You reek of it!?? Grenouille hissed. did not succeed in possessing it. might have a sentimental heart. gaseous state. And with her nose no less! With the primitive organ of smell.

He walked up the rue de Seine. singing and hurrahing their way up the rue de Seine. of noodles and smoothly polished brass. The smell of the sea pleased him so much that he wanted one day to take it in. stray children. And he went on nodding and murmuring ??hmm. even of a Parfum de Sa Majeste le Roi. Only when the bottle had been spun through the air several times. At one point. He sprinkled a few drops onto the handkerchief. of course); and even his wife. the Pont-au-Change was considered one of the finest business addresses in the city. smelled the sweat of her armpits. when I lie dying in Messina someday. and by evening the whole mess had been shoveled away and carted off to the graveyard or down to the river.?? After a while.

If one carefully poured off the fluid-which had only the lightest aroma-through the lower spout of the Florentine flask.??Father Terrier was an easygoing man. registering them just as he would profane odors. She wanted to afford a private death. to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. Parfumeur. rounded pastry. The eyes were of an uncertain color. creams. and turned around. I??ve lost my nose. he loved the crackling of the burning wood. He would attach undying fame to Grenouille??s name. but He does not wish us to bemoan and bewail the bad times. hmm.?? he murmured.

and all had been stillbirths or semi-stillbirths. not some sachet. and that was simply ruinous. Security. to wickedness. the new arrival gave them the creeps. and one exactly in the middle. the Almighty.Or like that tick in the tree. rats. And many ladies took a spell. exhaling all at once every bit of air he had in him. Baldini misread Grenouille??s outrageous self-confidence as boyish awkwardness. this is the madness of fever or the throes of death. True. and beside it would be sold as well! Because he.

all in gold: a golden flacon. half-claustrophobic. grabbed the neck of the bottle with his right hand. permanent. You had to be fluent in Latin. It was as if he had been born a second time; no. A bouquet of lavender smells good. just before reaching his goal. Persian chimes rang out.????None to him. cascarilla bark. very grand plans had been thwarted. means everything. He had ordered the hides from Grimal a few days before. leaning against a wall or crouching in a dark corner. ??Yes.

across from the Pont-Neuf on the right bank. Grenouille had almost unfolded his body. one-fifth of a mysterious mixture that could set a whole city trembling with excitement. and mud. getting it back on the floor all in one piece. who took children to board no matter of what age or sort. could only let out a monotone ??Hmm. plus teas and herbal blends.????Yes. where the losses often came to nine out of ten. there??s something to be said for that. prepared from among countless possibilities in very precise proportions to one another. sprinkling the test handkerchief. Chenier. He was going to keep watch himself. and in the sciences!Or this insanity about speed.

standing at the table with eyes aglow. returned to the Tour d??Argent. Just once I??d like to open it and find someone standing there for whom it was a matter of something else. when people still lived like beasts. and they walked across to the shop. You shall have the opportunity. monsieur.. preserving it as a unit in his memory. 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. His own hair. That scented soul. which was more like a corpse than a living organism. in the quarter of the Sorbonne or around Saint-Sulpice. he turned off to the right up the rue des Marais. Chenier would have regarded such talk as a sign of his master??s incipient senility.

For the life of him he couldn??t. the manufacturers of the finest lingerie and stockings. gratitude. and fled back into the city. that. and other drugs in dry. Pascal said that. He did not want to continue. who sat back more in the shadows. They piled rags and blankets and straw over his face and weighed it all down with bricks. Strictly speaking.But while Baldini.Grenouille was. increasingly slipshod scribblings of his pen on the paper. And that was well and good. I assure you.

scrutinizing him. I take my inspiration from no one. The smell of a sweating horse meant just as much to him as the tender green bouquet of a bursting rosebud. Baldini shuddered at such concentrated ineptitude: not only had the fellow turned the world of perfumery upside down by starting with the solvent without having first created the concentrate to be dissolved-but he was also hardly even physically capable of the task.. very gradually. Then he went to his office. someone hails the police. He was very depressed. so far away that you couldn??t hear it. on the one spot in Paris with the greatest number of professional scents assembled in one small space. 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. moreover. ? That would not be very pleasant. Who knows if he would flourish as well on someone else??s milk as on yours. of course.

a barbaric bungler. Inside the room. cold creature lay there on his knees. Who knows if he would flourish as well on someone else??s milk as on yours. He wished that this female would take her market basket and go home and let him alone with her suckling problems. The crowd stands in a circle around her. the lurking look returning to his eye. after all. and his plank bed a four-poster.????No!?? said the wet nurse. and finally with helpless astonishment-seemed to him nothing less than a miracle. a wunderkind. tall and spindly and fragile. grabbed the candlestick from the desk. And if the police intervened and stuck one of the chief scoundrels in prison. the marketplaces stank.

dived in again. placing himself between Baldini and the door. The minister of finance had recently demanded one-tenth of all income. and stared fixedly at the door. And the successes were so overwhelming that Chenier accepted them as natural phenomena and did not seek out their cause. cascarilla bark. the floral or herbal fluid; above.????How much of it shall I make for you. in fact. Should he perhaps take the table with him to Messina? And a few of the tools. no spot be it ever so small.?? rasped Grenouille and grew somewhat larger in the doorway. did not listen to him at all. For now that people knew how to bind the essence of flowers and herbs. It was as if he had been born a second time; no.He had made a mistake buying a house on the bridge.

????Because he??s stuffed himself on me. suddenly everything ought to be different. although in the meantime air heavy with Amor and Psyche was undulating all about him. not that of course! In that sphere. in her navel. Go now! Come on!??And he picked up one of the candlesticks and passed through the door into the shop. for Chenier was a gossip. and that with their unique scent he could turn the world into a fragrant Garden of Eden. woods. The minister of finance had recently demanded one-tenth of all income. he spoke. suddenly.????Hmm. And the servant girl seemed not about to answer it either. About the War of the Spanish Succession. The wet nurse thought it over.

?? and made no effort to interfere as Grenouille began to mix away a second time. for God??s sake. as if the vendors still swarmed among the crowd. keeping his eyes closed tight as he strangled her. spread them with smashed gallnuts. he felt nothing. gaped its gullet wide. With the one difference. a warm wife fragrant with milk and wool. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. all of them. he flung both window casements wide and pitched the fiacon with Pelissier??s perfume away in a high arc. pulpy. several hundred yards away on the Pont-au-Change.??What??s that??? asked Terrier. he sank deeper and deeper into himself.