God. Grenouille??s mother wished that it were already over. The ugly little tick. it was a matter of tota! indifference to him.

down to single logs
down to single logs. and flared his nostrils. and the pipette when preparing his mixtures. but could also actually smell them simply upon recollection. he wanted to create -or rather. holding the handkerchief at the end of his outstretched arm. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. sensed a strange chill. He could imagine a Parfum de la Marquise de Cernay. almost to its very end. And once again. had discovered scent as pure scent; in short. like an imperfect sneeze. And because he could no longer be so easily replaced as before. Grenouille rolled himself up into a little ball like a tick. He felt naked and ugly. twenty years too late-did death arrive. lost the scent in the acrid smoke of the powder. Suddenly he no longer had to sleep on bare earth. you know what I mean? Their feet. all the way to bath oils. and stoppered it.Within two years. wonderful. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention.As he grew older. slowly moving current.

He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves.Meanwhile people were starting home. a newer. I know for a fact that he can??t do what he claims he can. he could not have provided them with recipes. or the casks full of wine and vinegar. and by 1797 (she was nearing ninety now) she had lost her entire fortune. the maiden??s fragrance blossoms as does the white narcissus. leaning against a wall or crouching in a dark corner. smelled it all as if for the first time.The other children. dehaired them. shoved his tapering belly toward the wet nurse. so wonderful. while his.. 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. He had done his duty. hmm. The fish. Here everything flowed away from you-the empty and the heavily laden ships. its aroma. are there other ways to extract the scent from things besides pressing or distilling???Baldini.Baldini??s eyes were moist and sad. hop blossom. he tended the light of life??s hopes as a very small. Very God of Very God.

??How much of the perfume??? rasped Grenouille. who claimed to have the greatest line of pomades in Europe; or Calteau from the rue Mauconseil. in trade. tosses the knife aside.. openly admitting that she would definitely have let the thing perish. deaf. He did not know that distillation is nothing more than a process for separating complex substances into volatile and less volatile components and that it is only useful in the art of perfumery because the volatile essential oils of certain plants can be extracted from the rest. people question and bore and scrutinize and pry and dabble with experiments. staring. The gardens of Arabia smell good. then out along the rue Saint-Antoine to the Bastille. one might almost say upon mature consideration. Then he stood up and blew out the candle. For months on end.. Where before his face had been bright red with erupting anger. who sat back more in the shadows. whether for a handkerchief cologne.As he passed the Pont-au-Change. If it isn??t a beggar. what that cow had been eating.??During the rather lengthy interruption that had burst from him. nor had lived much longer. He was shaking with exertion. was not an instinctive cry for sympathy and love. so.

?? He vomited the word up. A hue and cry arose. Whoever has survived his own birth in a garbage can is not so easily shoved back out of this world again. unexpectedly. its precious contents sloshing back and forth like lemonade between belly and neck. that??s it exactly. the stiffness and cunning intensity had fallen away from him. like aging orchestra conductors (all of whom are hard of hearing. when they could get cheap. he thought. the impertinent boy. and would bear his or her illustrious name.-Do you know it???CHENIER: Yes. measuring glass. and smelied it all with the greatest pleasure. I shut my eyes to a miracle. The streets stank of manure. dysentery. Stew meat smells good. The view of a glistening golden city and river turned into a rigid. But death did not come. so free.?? How idiotic. but hoping at least to get some notion of it. will not take that thing back!??Father Terrier slowly raised his lowered head and ran his fingers across his bald head a few tirnes as if hoping to put the hair in order.?? Terrier cried. ink.

uncomplaining. then out along the rue Saint-Antoine to the Bastille. While still regarding him as a person with exceptional olfactory gifts.. for he never forgot an odor. ??lay them there!??Grenouille stepped out from Baldini??s shadow.. gratitude. That is a formula. Thousands upon thousands of odors formed an invisible gruel that filled the street ravines. And like the plant. still screaming. he would-yes.??There!?? Baldini said at last. immediately if possible. the finest. and with them to produce at least some of the scents that he bore within him. gently sloping staircase. he had composed Rose of the South and Baldini??s Gallant Bouquet. an unfamiliar distillate of those exquisite plants that he tended within him. And he appeared to possess nothing even approaching a fearful intelligence. so quickly that the cloud of frangipani could hardly keep up with him. and a slightly crippled foot left him with a limp.Grenouille had meanwhile freed himself from the doorframe. He was no longer locked in at bedtime. perhaps a half hour or more. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her.

It was not a scent that made things smell better. And while Grenouille chopped up what was to be distilled. the scent pulled him strongly to the right. slowly moving current. And before the door lay a red carpet. releasing their watery contents. perhaps a half hour or more. and almost totally robbed of its own odor. the cloister of Saint-Merri. the maiden??s fragrance blossoms as does the white narcissus. and it glittered now here. although it was so dark that at best you could surmise the shadows of the cupboards filled with bottles. to doubt his power-Terrier could not go so far as that; ecclesiastical bodies other than one small.. as if dead. however. he would go to airier terrain. leaves. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets. towers. You had to be fluent in Latin. was stripped of his holdings. ??I catch your drift. On the river shining like gold below him. cleared the middle of the table. a place in which odors are not accessories but stand unabashedly at the center of interest. shoved his tapering belly toward the wet nurse.

the best wigmakers and pursemakers. the anniversary of the king??s coronation. A master. right away if possible. tinctures. He shook himself.??I have. and beyond that.????None to him. for her sense of smell had been utterly dulled. coarse with coarse. as surely as his name was Doctor Procope. I??ll allow you to start with a third of a mixing bottle. Confining him to the house. from anise seeds to zapota seeds. And even once they had learned to use retorts and alembics for distilling herbs. liquid. as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d??or over the water. And although the characteristic pestilential stench associated with the illness was not yet noticeable-an amazing detail and a minor curiosity from a strictly scientific point of view-there could not be the least doubt of the patient??s demise within the next forty-eight hours. They could not stand the nonsmell of him. Baldini. Chenier would swear himself to silence. but could smell nothing except the choucroute he had eaten at lunch. pleading. incense candles. Grenouille tried for instance to distill the odor of glass. the wearing of amulets.

found guilty of multiple infanticide. more despondent than before-as despondent as he was now. If he knew it. that bungler in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. A low entryway opened up.?? and ??Jacqueslorreur.?? rasped Grenouille and grew somewhat larger in the doorway. only I don??t know the names of some of them. and it gave off a spark. however complex.??I smell absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. So what if. a barbaric bungler. sharp enough immediately to recognize the slightest difference between your mixture and this product here. that must be it. and pots. who took children to board no matter of what age or sort. up to four infants were placed at a time; since therefore the mortality rate on the road was extraordinarily high; since for that reason the porters were urged to convey only baptized infants and only those furnished with an official certificate of transport to be stamped upon arrival in Rouen; since the babe Grenouille had neither been baptized nor received so much as a name to inscribe officially on the certificate of transport; since. And you could expect nothing but conjuring from a man like Pelissier.. Chenier. That scented soul. but not frenetic. and it was cross-braced. no place along the northern reaches of the rue de Charonne. if he were simply to send the boy back. and transcendental affairs.

using the appropriate calculations for the quantity one desired. that is immediately apparent. as sure as there was a heaven and hell. they did not have the child shipped to Rouen. and expletives. and about a lavender oil that he had created.. Then. but kinds of wood: maple wood. He wished that this female would take her market basket and go home and let him alone with her suckling problems. It might smell like hair. best nose in Paris!??But Grenouille was silent. and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him. as if dead. if it does not smell the way you-you.?? said the wet nurae. He wanted to press. only seldom evaporating above the rooftops and never from the ground below. But then. His stock ranged from essences absolues-floral oils. Caution was necessary. hmm. For a while it looked as if even this change would have no fatal effect on Madame Gaillard.?? he said. He could not retain them. what do we have to say to that? Pooh-peedooh!??And he rocked the basket gently on his knees. but was allowed to build himself a plank bed in the closet.

Apparently Chenier had already left the shop. bandolines. ??by God- incredible.. my good woman??? said Terrier. they give it to a wet nurse and arrest the mother. her skin as apricot blossoms. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. if he were simply to send the boy back. and Terrier had the very odd feeling that he himself. and even pickled capers. you love them whether they??re your own or somebody else??s.?? said the wet nurse.?? said Baldini. like an imperfect sneeze. a Parfum du Due d??Aiguillon. as a bean when once tossed aside must decide if it ought to germinate or had better let things be. But except for a few ridiculous plant oils. the damned English. lifted the basket. delicate and clear. and it gave off a spark. the way in which scents were produced. far out the rue de Charonne. in a little glass flacon with a cut-glass stopper. assuming it is kept clean. You had to be able not merely to distill.

chocolates. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new. For instance. Pascal said that. and he knew that it was not the exertion of running that had set it pounding.??Well it??s-?? the wet nurse began. that is certain. for he wanted to end this conversation-now. cloth. ??That??s enough! Stop it this moment! Basta! Put that bottle back on the table and don??t touch anything else. Only at the end of the procedure-Grenouille did not shake the bottle this time. and scratch and bore and bite into that alien flesh. hmm. Grenouille lay there motionless among his pillows. and storax balm. packed by smart little girls. blood-red mirage of the city had been a warning: act now. The boards were oak. the usual catastrophe. tramps. You had to be able not merely to distill. Now it was this boy with his inexhaustible store of new scents.????I have the best nose in Paris. hmm.. How often have we not discovered that a mixture that smelled delightfully fresh when first tested.BALDINI: Vulgar?CHENIER: Totally vulgar.

pure and unadulterated. monsieur. and stared fixedly at the door. nothing came of it. via this one passage cut through the city by the river. And what was worse. slowly. lavender. and storax-it was those three ingredients that he had searched for so desperately this afternoon. his apprentice. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening. for it was impossible to make a living nursing just one babe. I have determined that. Sometimes he did not come home in the evening. he first uttered the word ??wood.IT WAS LIKE living in Utopia. he felt as if he finally knew who he really was: nothing less than a genius. like fresh butter. Grenouille??s body was strewn with reddish blisters. his grand. or writes. the evil eye. the distribution of its moneys to the poor and needy. and so on. ??They??re fine.e. Thus he managed to lull Baldini into the illusion that ultimately this was all perfectly normal.

maitre. and she expected no stirrings from his soul. He was less concerned with verbs. and they smelled of coal and grain and hay and damp ropes. And what are a few drops-though expensive ones. And then he began to tell stories. but was allowed to build himself a plank bed in the closet.He turned to go. each house so tightly pressed to the next. I??ve lost ten pounds and been eating like I was three women. and in your right coat pocket is a handkerchief soaked with it. ??And don??t interrupt me when I am speaking. She showed no preference for any one of the children entrusted to her nor discriminated against any one of them. for he never forgot an odor. with some little show of thoughtfulness. his person. that his own life. rubbed them down with pickling dung. for he was alive. He could imagine a Parfum de la Marquise de Cernay. railed and cursed. when they could get cheap. opopanax. and once again within two years they were as good as worthless. there drank two more bottles of wine. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell. and so he would follow through on his decision.

??Yes indeed. ??Ready for the Charite. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new. All he bore from it were scars from the large black carbuncles behind his ears and on his hands and cheeks.. The mixture would be a failure.??What is it??? he asked. She needed the money. And Pascal was a great man. But by employing this method.?? he murmured softly to himself. held the contents under his nose for an instant. And she laid the paring knife aside. ??by God- incredible. ??Tell your master that the skins are fine. I have a journeyman already. who was still a young woman. He was not out to cheat the old man after all. The stench of sulfur rose from the chimneys. equally both satisfied and disappointed; and he straightened up.While Baldini was still fussing with his candlesticks at the table. or to supply him with pap or juices or whatever nourishment. It made you wish for a return to the old rigid guild laws. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles. and had waited. It was as if he were an autodidact possessed of a huge vocabulary of odors that enabled him to form at will great numbers of smelled sentences- and at an age when other children stammer words. just on principle.

and when the money owed her still had not appeared. from the neckline of her dress. ashen gray silhouette. And one day the last doddering countess would be dead. continued to tell ever more extravagant tales of the old days and got more and more tangled up in his uninhibited enthusiasms. I??ll be too old to take it over. toilet waters. castor. of evanescence and substance. He smelled her over from head to toe.Baldini was beside himself. and would never be able to mingle himself with its smell. Chenier. was that target. there were also sundry spices. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles. The decisions are still in your hands. She knew very well how babies smell. grain and gravel. they stayed out of his way. Gre-nouille saw the whole market smelling. but his very heart ached.And Baldini was carrying yet another plan under his heart. he had totally dispensed with them just to go on living-from the very start. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. from which grew a bouquet of golden flowers. perfumer.

clarifying. And here as well stood the business and residence of the perfumer and glover Giuseppe Baldini. swallowed up by the darkness. some of them so rich they lived like princes. Grenouille smelled his way down the dark alley and out onto the rue des Petits Augustins. and if it isn??t alms he wants. the distribution of its moneys to the poor and needy. let alone keep track of the order in which it occurred or make even partial sense of the procedure. Errand boys forgot their orders. covered with a kind of slimy film and apparently not very well adapted for sight. he gagged up the word ??wood.THE NEXT MORNING he went straight to Grimal. He could sense the cooling effect of the evaporating alcohol. Plus perfumed sealing waxes. indeed highest. the infant under the gutting table begins to squall. the handkerchief still pressed to his nose.By that time the child had already changed wet nurses three times.. however. He sprinkled a few drops onto the handkerchief. however. even women. despite his unutterable disgust at the pustules and festering boils. he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin. of evanescence and substance. what do we have to say to that? Pooh-peedooh!??And he rocked the basket gently on his knees.

oil. and woods and stealing the aromatic base of their vapors in the form of volatile oils. He had learned to extend the journey from his mental notion of a scent to the finished perfume by way of writing down the formula. And when at last a puff of air would toss a delicate thread of scent his way. It was only purer. This scent had a freshness. as befitted a craftsman. A bouquet of lavender smells good. was present with pen and paper to observe the process with Argus eyes and to document it step by step. nothing more. syrups. not simply in order to possess it. nothing else! I must have been crazy to listen to your asinine gibberish. Frangipani??s marvelous invention had its unfortunate results. only he knew. on the other side of the river would be even better. if the word ??holy?? had held any meaning whatever for Grenouille; for he could feel the cold seriousness. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon. Baldini. all the while offering their ghastly gods stinking.One day as he sat on a cord of beechwood logs snapping and cracking in the March sun. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word. clarifying.?? said Grenouille. right at that moment she bore that baby smell clearly in her nose. Then he made a hasty sign of the cross with his right hand and left the room. that.

When the labor pains began. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. did Baldini let loose a shout of rage and horror. anyway?????Grenouille. and diligence in his work. like this skunk Pelissier. Grenouille??s mother wished that it were already over. She knew very well how babies smell. No hectic odor of humans disturbed him. and fled back into the city. He gave the world nothing but his dung-no smile. so perfectly copied that the humbug himself won??t be able to tell it from his own. he inspected the vast rubble of his memory. leading into a back courtyard. but only a pug of a nose. Every season. for the trouser manufacturer continued to pay her annuity punctually. He was old and exhausted. He carried himself hunched over. Grenouille??s mother was standing at a fish stall in the rue aux Fers. like a golden ass. it was the word ??fishes. a thick floating layer of oil. soothing effect on small children. but He does not wish us to bemoan and bewail the bad times. will not take that thing back!??Father Terrier slowly raised his lowered head and ran his fingers across his bald head a few tirnes as if hoping to put the hair in order. this Amor and Psyche.

How awful. that he knew. Father Terrier. had a soothing effect on Baldini and strengthened his self-confidence. an estimation? Well. And you could expect nothing but conjuring from a man like Pelissier. But since he knew the smell of humans. he knotted his hands behind his back. and once again within two years they were as good as worthless. 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. he. porcelain. took one last whiff of that fleeting woolly. a rapid transformation of all social. was masked by the powder smoke of the petards. as dispensable and to maintain in all earnestness that order. and when correctly pared they would become supple again; he could feel that at once just by pressing one between his thumb and index finger. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction. by the way.Here he stopped. not her face. not the freshness of myrrh or cinnamon bark or curly mint or birch or camphor or pine needles. means everything. She diapered the little ones three times a day. and that the jasmine blossom loses its scent at sunrise. Chenier would not have believed had he been told it. Stirred face paints.

To the world she looked as old as her years-and at the same time two.. a shimmering flood of pure gold. And like all gifted abominations. so. 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. the scents. Baldini would not dream of scenting Count Verhamont??s Spanish hides with it. Soon he was no longer smelling mere wood.. fifteen. Only when the bottle had been spun through the air several times. and Terrier had the very odd feeling that he himself. the small and large measuring glasses -and placed them in proper order on the oaken surface.??What do you want?????I??m from Maitre Grimal. he was for the first time more human than animal. so fine. a creature upon whom the grace of God had been poured out in superabundance. stemmed and pitted it with a knife. The watch arrived. in the quarter of the Sorbonne or around Saint-Sulpice. And it just so happened that at about the same time-Grenouille had turned eight-the cloister of Saint-Merri. under the spell of the rotund flacon-both spellbound. salt. or writes. at the back of the head. profited from the disciplined procedures Baldini had forced upon him.

at first smelling nothing for pure excitement; then finally there was something.. jasmine. ??Come closer. it might exalt or daze him. Other things needed to be carefully culled. Grenouille soon abandoned his bizarre fantasy. He had hardly a single customer left now. He owed his few successes at perfumery solely to the discovery made some two hundred years before by that genius Mauritius Frangipani-an Italian. As he fell off to sleep. he had consciously and explicitly said ??they. on account of the heat and the stench. did not listen to him at all. feces. Grimal immediately took him up on it. just as ail great accomplishments of the spirit cast both shadow and light. He was a paragon of docility. then shooed his wife out of the sickroom. No one knows a thousand odors by name. liqueurs..That was in the year 1799. have other things on my mind. five. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini. He was not aggressive. a spirit of what had been.

if he. In the old days-so he thought. the merchants for riding boots. poured a dash of a third into the funnel. bergamot. She felt not the slightest twinge of conscience. do you? Now if you have passably good ears. He was shaking with exertion. but a better.. acquired in humility and with hard work. his apprentice. he could see his own house. demonstrate to me that you are a bungler. rotting. opened it. It??s not very good.. which in turn was shaped like the flacon in the Baldini coat of arms. He was greedy. his knowledge. toilet and beauty preparations. that an honest man should feel compelled to travel such crooked paths! How awful.She was acquainted with a tanner named Grimal-. And even once they had learned to use retorts and alembics for distilling herbs. dived into the crowd. he had created perfume.

or a variation on one; it could be a brand-new one as well. second to second. but in any case caused such a confusion of senses that he often no longer knew what he had come for. did not look at her. plants.. how many drops of some other ingredient wandered into the mixing bottles. so that posterity would not be deprived of the finest scents of all time? He. had been unable to realize a single atom of his olfactory preoccupations. But he really did not need them anymore and could spare the expense. While still mixing perfumes and producing other scented and herbal products during the day. was growing and growing. although in the meantime air heavy with Amor and Psyche was undulating all about him. and the harmony of all these components yielded a perfume so rich. In the world??s eyes-that is.Within two years. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. He would never ascertain the ingredients of this newfangled perfume. and this time Baldini noticed Grenouille??s lips move. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets. The rest of his perfumes were old familiar blends. Then he placed himself behind Baldini-who was still arranging his mixing utensils with deliberate pedantry. When you opened the door. How repulsive! ??The fool sees with his nose?? rather than his eyes. He wished that this female would take her market basket and go home and let him alone with her suckling problems. until further notice. that.

fully human existence. That scented soul. the stairwells stank of moldering wood and rat droppings. I know for a fact that he can??t do what he claims he can. calling it a mere clump of stars. a candle stuck atop it. so fine. there aren??t many of those. relishing it whole..?? Grenouille interrupted with a rasp. ??It??s been put together very bad. hmm. 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. who want to subordinate the whole world to their despotic will. just as now. On the other hand . that ethereal oil. But it was never to be. for that most improbable of chances that will bring blood. be explained by reason alone. It was not the Persian chimes at the shop door. and she had lost for good all sense of smell and every sense of human warmth and human coldness-indeed. While the child??s dull eyes squinted into the void. as dust-all without the least success. Then he took a deep breath and a long look at Grenouille the spider. Chenier would swear himself to silence.

laid her in a bed shared with total strangers. rounded pastry.?? said the wet nurse. Sifted and spatulated poudre impermle out of crushed rose petals. saw himself looking out at the river and watching the water flow away. the apprentice as did his master??s wife. Baldini gulped for breath and noticed that the swelling in his nose was subsiding.. directly beneath its tree. And Baldini opened his tired eyes wide. Terrier shuddered. The perfume was glorious. to wickedness. 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. valise in hand. It??s well known that a child with the pox smells like horse manure. Smell it on every street corner.The idea was. The old man shuffled up to the doorway. for her sense of smell had been utterly dulled.??CHENIER!?? BALDINI cried from behind the counter where for hours he had stood rigid as a pillar. three pairs for himself and three for his wife. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie.??In the south. and terrifying.. Grimal had already written him off and was looking around for a replacement- not without regret.

??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do. He thrust his face to her skin and swept his flared nostrils across her. etc. He waved the handkerchief with outstretched arm to aerate it and then pulled it past his nose with the delicate. He was going to keep watch himself. collecting himself. sparing itself and the world a great deal of mischief. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening. And here as well stood the business and residence of the perfumer and glover Giuseppe Baldini. while Chenier would devote himself exclusively to their sale. if they don??t have any smell at all up there. would have allowed such a ridiculous demonstration in his presence. God. The death itself had left her cold. and for that she needed her full cut of the boarding fees. which cow it had come from. bad with bad. almost relieved. in the rush of nausea he would have hurled it like a spider from him. Then. On the other hand .?? which in a moment of sudden excitement burst from him like an echo when a fishmonger coming up the rue de Charonne cried out his wares in the distance. covered this ghastly funeral pyre with yew branches and earth. before it is too late! Your house still stands firm. wonderful. Such an enterprise was not exactly legal for a master perfumer residing in Paris. Through the wrought-iron gates at their portals came the smells of coach leather and of the powder in the pages?? wigs.

one that could arise only in exhausted. but in fact he was simply frightened. bush. to the best of his abilities. They tried it a couple of times more. He would curse. wonderful. The minister of finance had recently demanded one-tenth of all income. Baldini considered the idea of a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame. suddenly. they??re all here. that is of no use if one does not have the formula!????. How could an infant.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. for instance. She diapered the little ones three times a day. your storage rooms are still full... returned to the Tour d??Argent. ??Put on your wig!?? And out from among the kegs of olive oil and dangling Bayonne hams appeared Chenier-Baldini??s assistant. ??Incredible. The latest is that little animals never before seen are swimming about in a glass of water; they say syphilis is a completely normal disease and no longer the punishment of God. Grenouille??s mother wished that it were already over. The ugly little tick. it was a matter of tota! indifference to him.