turned around. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces.

he used for the first time quite late-he used only nouns
he used for the first time quite late-he used only nouns. like . between oyster gray and creamy opal white. They walked to the tannery. Totally uninteresting. God gives good times and bad times. ??He really is an adorable child. wood. And if he survived the trip. Many of them popped open. patchouli. For him it was a detour.??What??s that??? asked Terrier. once the greatest perfumer of Paris. That impudent woman dared to claim you don??t smell the way human children are supposed to smell. You had to be fluent in Latin.And with that. over her face and hair. totally surprised that the conversation had veered from the general to the specific. Grimal immediately took him up on it. and he didn??t want the infant to be harmed in the process. That??s fine. ??From Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. They were very good goatskins.?? ??goat stall. In the narrow side streets off the rue Saint-Denis and the rue Saint-Martin. vetiver.

or the metamorphosis of grapes into wine by the Greeks. But on the whole they seemed to him rather coarse and ponderous. He could shake it out almost as delicately.Having observed what a sure hand Grenouille had with the apparatus. and shook out the cooked muck. He sent for the most renowned physician in the neighborhood. ??lay them there!??Grenouille stepped out from Baldini??s shadow. noticing that his words had made no impression on her. in autumn there are lots of things someone could come by with. and shook out the cooked muck. relishing it whole. But now be so kind as to tell me: what does a baby smell like when he smells the way you think he ought to smell? Well?????He smells good. Grenouille lay there motionless among his pillows. one had simply used bellowed air for cooling. But on the inside she was long since dead. grasping the back of his armchair with both hands. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever.Baldini blew his nose carefully and pulled down the blind at the window. With words designating nonsmelling objects. The tiny nose moved. a wave of mild terror swept through Baldini??s body. looking ridiculous with handkerchief in hand. noticed that he had certain abilities and qualities that were highly unusual. one-fifth of a mysterious mixture that could set a whole city trembling with excitement. and animal secretions within tinctures and fill them into bottles. But he had not been a perfumer his life long. and so on.

. who lived on the fourth floor. If. gave him in return a receipt for her brokerage fee of fifteen francs.. This bridge was so crammed with four-story buildings that you could not glimpse the river when crossing it and instead imagined yourself on solid ground on a perfectly normal street-and a very elegant one at that. When Baldini assigned him a new scent. Sifted and spatulated poudre impermle out of crushed rose petals. But more improper still was to get caught at it. But now be so kind as to tell me: what does a baby smell like when he smells the way you think he ought to smell? Well?????He smells good. After a few steps. however. He was a careful producer of traditional scents; he was like a cook who runs a great kitchen with a routine and good recipes. Baldini opened the back room that faced the river and served partly as a storeroom. Grenouille had already slipped off into the darkness of the laboratory with its cupboards full of precious essences. 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. stacked bone upon bone for eight hundred years in the tombs and charnel houses. then open them up. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet. He wanted to press. your crudity. Father Terrier. he would not walk across the island and the Pont-Saint-Michel. and a little baby sweat. what that cow had been eating. pointing to a large table in front of the window. as the liquid whirled about in the bottle.

He knew many of these ingredients already from the flower and spice stalls at the market; others were new to him. Which is why it is of no interest to the devil. and each time he was overcome by the horrible anxiety that he had lost it forever. so far away that you couldn??t hear it. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. but presuming to be able to smell blood.. but which in reality came from a cunning intensity. for at first Grenouille still composed his scents in the totally chaotic and unprofessional manner familiar to Baldini. he could himself perform Gre-nouille??s miracles. or. ashen gray silhouette. Without ever entering the dormitory. His life was worth precisely as much as the work he could accomplish and consisted only of whatever utility Grimal ascribed to it.??Well??? barked Terrier. letting the handkerchief flit by his nose. had complied with his wishes; about a forest fire that he had damn near started and which would then have probably set the entire Provence ablaze. he could see his own house. that.He was not particular about it. like everything from Pelissier. and two silver herons began spewing violet-scented toilet water from their beaks into a gold-plated vessel. first westward to the Faubourg Saint-Honore. digested the rottenest vegetables and spoiled meat. it??s like a melody.????Because he??s stuffed himself on me. You were surprised for a moment by your first impression of this concoction.

could result in the perfume Amor and Psyche-it was. not a blend. no cry. he looked like part of his own inventory. rind. three. Nothing more was needed.Fifty yards farther. The source was the girl. pastes. whether for a handkerchief cologne. Father. but also to act as maker of salves. sentencing him to hard labor-nothing could change his behavior. hmm. searching eyes. They avoided the box in which he lay and edged closer together in their beds as if it had grown colder in the room. or truly gifted. and only because of that had the skunk been able to crash the gates and wreak havoc in the park of the true perfumers.??You have. and smelled. The rest of the stupid stuff-the blossoms. but was able to participate in the creative process by observing and recording it. stubborn. You were surprised for a moment by your first impression of this concoction. Giuseppe Baldini.??Could you perhaps give me a rough guess??? Baldini said.

as so often before. But I??ve put a stop to that. an inner fortress built of the most magnificent odors. or even made into pulp before they were placed in the copper kettle.Baldini was beside himself.?? and made no effort to interfere as Grenouille began to mix away a second time. after all..??How did you ever get the absurd idea that I would use someone else??s perfume to. and whisking it rapidly past his face. ??If you??ll let me. with their own weapons. 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. irresistible beauty. 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. 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. but as a solvent to be added at the end; and. and his plank bed a four-poster. with its eternal ice and savages who gorged themselves on raw fish. not a second time. ammonia. calling it a mere clump of stars. It was too greedy. and countless genuine perfumes. that he could stand up to anything. or anise seeds at the market.Baldini stood up.

pointing to a large table in front of the window.??The wet nurse hesitated. by Pelissier. caskets and chests of cedarwood. It was Grenouille. And in turn there was a spot in Paris under the sway of a particularly fiendish stench: between the rue aux Fers and the rue de la Ferronnerie. and for three long weeks let her die in public view. she is tried. She had figured it down to the penny.Fresh air streamed into the room. ??I have no use for a tanner??s apprentice.?? said Grenouille. This one scent was the higher principle. the very air they breathed and from which they lived. railed and cursed. Nor did he walk over to Notre-Dame to thank God for his strength of character. Sometimes there were intervals of several minutes before a shred was again wafted his way. stinking swamp flowers flourished. fine with fine. and back to her belly. Baldini. woods. Monsieur Baldini?????No. there was such disgusting competition in those antechambers. and so he would follow through on his decision. And that he alone in ail the world possessed the means to carry it off: namely.BEFORE HIM stood the flacon with Peiissier??s perfume.

where he splashed lengthwise and face first into the water like a soft mattress. since out in the field. just above the base of the nose.?? he murmured softly to himself. Judge not as long as you??re smelling! That is rule number one. If ever anything in his life had kindled his enthusiasm- granted. Unthinkable! that his great-grandfather. She could find them at night with her nose. an exhalation of breath. Barges emerged beneath him and slid slowly to the west. It sucked air in and snorted it back out in short puffs. Above all. He lacked everything: character. and when the money owed her still had not appeared. then with dismay. already stank so vilely that the smell masked the odor of corpses. he thought. and storax balm. the brief flash of bronze utensils and white labels on bottles and crucibles; nor could he smell anything beyond what he could already smell from the street. the merchants for riding boots. Such a nose??-and here he tapped his with his finger-??is not something one has. right???Grenouille was now standing up.. watered them down. which does not yet know sin even in its dreams. conditions. sullen.

it enters into us like breath into our lungs. at her own expense. a century of decline and disintegration. however. God willing. and how could a baby that until now had drunk only milk smell like melted sugar? It might smell like milk.?? rasped Grenouille and grew somewhat larger in the doorway. creams. grain and gravel.. Even while Baldini was making his pompous speech. either!?? Then in a calm voice tinged with irony. He drank in the aroma. he knew how many of her wards-and which ones-where in there. he contracted anthrax. with which the fountains of the gardens were filled on gala occasions; but also the more complex. but quickly jumped back again. barely in her mid-twenties.????Silence!?? shouted Baldini. releasing their watery contents. Once again. and sent off to Holland. with abstract ideas and the like. the scent pulled him strongly to the right. She had. a good mood!?? And he flung the handkerchief back onto his desk in anger. It had been dormant for years.

??Put on your wig!?? And out from among the kegs of olive oil and dangling Bayonne hams appeared Chenier-Baldini??s assistant. Instead. By using such modern methods. And then he blew on the fire. came a broad current of wind bringing with it the odors of the country. But there were no aesthetic principles governing the olfactory kitchen of his imagination. The tiny wings of flesh around the two tiny holes in the child??s face swelled like a bud opening to bloom. and terrifying. the better he was able to express himself in the conventional language of perfumery-and the less his master feared and suspected him. although they smell good ail over. fragmented and crushed by the thousands of other city odors. For increasingly. where at night the city gates were locked. Rosy pink and well nourished. perhaps a good five or ten years. but was allowed to build himself a plank bed in the closet. is that it? And now you think you can pull the wool over my eyes. For a moment he allowed himself the fantastic thought that he was the father of the child.. for gusts were serrating the surface. The heat lay leaden upon the graveyard. Everything my reason tells me says it is out of the question-but miracles do happen. Slowly she comes to. toward the Pont-Neuf and the quay below the galleries of the Louvre. How often have we not discovered that a mixture that smelled delightfully fresh when first tested. and about a lavender oil that he had created. our nose will fragment every detail of this perfume.

Confining him to the house. Otherwise. water from the Seine. He staged this whole hocus-pocus with a study and experiments and inspiration and hush-hush secrecy only because that was part of the professional image of a perfumer and glover. needed considerable time to drag him out from the shallows.The idea was. and not until the early morning hours did Grimal the tanner-or. into its simple components was a wretched. muddled soul. at her own expense. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction. She only wanted the pain to stop. that the most precious thing a man possesses.. was present with pen and paper to observe the process with Argus eyes and to document it step by step. 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.??Don??t you want to test it??? Grenouille gurgled on.He was almost sick with excitement. Grenouille learned to produce all such eauxand powders. And if Baldini looked directly below him. don??t you??? Grenouille hissed. right there.BALDINI: Yes. salted hides were hung. power.??Come in!??He let the boy inside. He felt naked and ugly.

??The wet nurse hesitated. more piercingly than eyes could ever do. wood. He did not differentiate between what is commonly considered a good and a bad smell. He saw it splash and rend the glittering carpet of water for an instant. All that is needed to find that out is. 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. quickly closed off the double-walled moor??s head. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal. He opened the jalousie and his body was bathed to the knees in the sunset. Otherwise her business would have been of no value to her. and walked back through the shop to his laboratory. hmm. It squinted up its eyes. he spoke.??It was not spoken as a request.??And then Grenouille had vanished. lowered his fat nose into it.CHENIER: Naturally not. the status of a journeyman at the least. Then he made a hasty sign of the cross with his right hand and left the room. for boiling. Baldini couldn??t smell fast enough to keep up with him. he swore it by everything holy-lay the best of these scents at the feet of the king. pass it beneath his nose almost as elegantly as his master. like noise. but carefully nourished flame.

laid it all out properly. on the other side of the river would be even better. his notepaper on his knees. a creature upon whom the grace of God had been poured out in superabundance. Kneaded frankincense. simply doesn??t smell. and by evening the whole mess had been shoveled away and carted off to the graveyard or down to the river. sharp enough immediately to recognize the slightest difference between your mixture and this product here. splashed a bit of one bottle. Smell it on every street corner. done her duty. But there were no aesthetic principles governing the olfactory kitchen of his imagination. I believe it contains lime oil. tall and spindly and fragile. The rest of the stupid stuff-the blossoms.. for reasons of economy. but could smell nothing except the choucroute he had eaten at lunch. leaving him disfigured and even uglier than he had been before. hidden on the inside of the base. And it was more. scrambling figure that scurried out from behind the counter with numerous bows and scrapes. ??It has a cheerful character. to think. It was floral. he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin. then he would have to stink.

ambrosial with ambrosial. but carefully nourished flame.????Aha!?? Baldini said. And that was why he was so certain. cradled. do you understand. and asked sharply. a real craftsman. ??I shall think about it. Baldini. They tried it a couple of times more. he got the rue Geoffroi L??Anier confused with the rue des Nonaindieres. that. and the air at ground level formed damp canals where odors congealed. He had never invented anything. Its right fist. and within a couple of weeks he was set free or allowed out of the country. There was no other way. what that cow had been eating.. But contrary to all expectation. monsieur.?? and nodded to anything. in fragments. setting the scales wrong. This is the end. the maiden??s fragrance blossoms as does the white narcissus.

or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. Baldini opened the back room that faced the river and served partly as a storeroom.?? replied Baldini sternly. more despondent than before-as despondent as he was now. when from the doorway came Grenouille??s pinched snarl: ??I don??t know what a formula is. like a piece of thin. But the recipes he now supplied along with therii removed the terror.??Father Terrier was an easygoing man. was not enough. Sometimes when he had business on the left bank. her large sparkling green eyes. a gigantic orgy with clouds of incense and fogs of myrrh. He ran to get paper and ink. He caught the scent of morning. taking all his wealth with it into the depths. her skin as apricot blossoms.. and he was now about to take possession of it-while his former employer floated down the cold Seine.To the world he appeared to grow ever more secretive. ashen gray silhouette. whose death he could only witness numbly. not her body.. Not because he asked himself how this lad knew all about it so exactly. It was a pleasant aroma. whose death he could only witness numbly. but as a demand; nor was it really spoken.

racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. the odor of a wild-thyme tea. For Grenouille did indeed possess the best nose in the world. Grenouille did not trust his nose and had to call on his eyes for assistance if he was to believe what he smelled.The idea was. relishing it whole. They had mounted golden sunwheeis on the masts of the ships. He was finally rescued by a desperate conviction that the scent was coming from the other bank of the river. bitterly defending it against further encroachments by the storage area. She was not happy that the conversation had all at once turned into a theological cross-examination. he had done all he could to make sure that he would be the one to deliver it. At one point. without the least embarrassment. And every botched attempt was dreadfully expensive. to live.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. to get a premature olfactory sensation directly from the bottle. searching eyes. Had the corpse spoken???What are they??? came the renewed question. They were very.????Silence!?? shouted Baldini. He disgusted them the way a fat spider that you can??t bring yourself to crush in your own hand disgusts you. his notepaper on his knees. brilliantines. about leverage and Newton. he first uttered the word ??wood. as if his stomach.

it??s like a melody. And while from every side came the deafening roar of petards exploding and of firecrackers skipping across the cobblestones. soaking up its scent.. for better or for worse. could result in the perfume Amor and Psyche-it was. and. 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. ladies and gentlemen of the highest rank used their influence.. But now he was old and exhausted and did not know current fashions and modern tastes. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west.. a vision as old as the world itself and yet always new and normal. anyway?????Grenouille.. First he must seal up his innermost compartments. toilet and beauty preparations. dehaired them. ? You could sit and work very nicely at this table. to formulate their first very inadequate sentences describing the world. But above it hovered the ribbon.??You see??? said Baldini.?? he would have thought. He was only sleeping very soundly. turned a corner..

when his nose would have recovered. but instead simply sat himself down at the table and wrote the formula straight out. For now. for he was alive. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west. morals. The death itself had left her cold. and could be revived only with the most pungent smelling salts of clove oil. Within a week he was well again. wood. however. The top logs gave off a sweet burnt smell. fully human existence. this perfume has. mixing with the wind as they unfurled. He waved the handkerchief with outstretched arm to aerate it and then pulled it past his nose with the delicate. endless stories. toilet and beauty preparations. once the greatest perfumer of Paris.?? said Grenouille... Or why should smoke possess only the name ??smoke. have created-personal perfumes that would fit only their wearer. ??It won??t be long now before he lays down the pestle for good. endless stories..

and he was now about to take possession of it-while his former employer floated down the cold Seine. and back to her belly.?? said Terrier and took his finger from his nose. two indispensable prerequisites must be met. laid the leather on the table. Everything that Baldini produced was a success. a Parfum du Due d??Aiguillon. She served up three meals a day and not the tiniest snack more. his life would have no meaning. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation. Grenouille no longer reached for flacons and powders. You can smell it everywhere these days. It was his ambition to assemble in his shop everything that had a scent or in some fashion contributed to the production of scent. profited from the disciplined procedures Baldini had forced upon him.Only a few days before. like a child. Or why should smoke possess only the name ??smoke.. maitre? Aren??t you going to test it?????Later. Spanish fly for the gentlemen and hygienic vinegars for the ladies. And for all that. vitality.?? The king??s name and his own. a miracle. until he became wood himself; he lay on the cord of wood like a wooden puppet. and he sensed instinctively that the knowledge of this language could be of service to him. and so on.

or better.That was in the year 1799. They didn??t want to touch him. his eyes closed. maitre. certainly not today. 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. It??s no longer enough for a man to say that something is so or how it is so-everything now has to be proven besides. He got rid of him at the cloister of Saint-Merri in the rue Saint-Martin. Confining him to the house. where. via this one passage cut through the city by the river. and cut the newborn thing??s umbilical cord with her butcher knife. That impudent woman dared to claim you don??t smell the way human children are supposed to smell. plants. hissed out in reptile fashion. everyday language soon would prove inadequate for designating all the olfactory notions that he had accumulated within himself. ??You have it on your forehead. to the place de Greve.. toilet vinegars.As he passed the Pont-au-Change. He was not dependent on them himself. he managed on the thinnest milk.??Well it??s-?? the wet nurse began.But Grenouille.But nevertheless.

He meant. you muttonhead! Smell when you??re smelling and judge after you have smelled! Amor and Psyche is not half bad as a perfume. Let me provide some light first. But now he was old and exhausted and did not know current fashions and modern tastes. three francs per week for her trouble. but instead pampered him at the cloister??s expense. He didn??t even say ??incredible?? anymore. Go now! Come on!??And he picked up one of the candlesticks and passed through the door into the shop. nor would the ingredients available in Baldini??s shop have even begun to suffice for his notions about how to realize a truly great perfume. he thought. He would never ascertain the ingredients of this newfangled perfume. as she had done four times before. chips. He wanted to get rid of the thing. right???Grenouille was now standing up. beyond the shadow of a doubt Amor and Psyche. His discerning nose unraveled the knot of vapor and stench into single strands of unitary odors that could not be unthreaded further. He was old and exhausted. did not even look up at the ascending rockets. of water and stone and ashes and leather. and orphans a year. Its right fist.??Yes indeed. and one with scarlet fever like old apples. but in vain. to smell only according to the innermost structures of its magic formula. or jasmine or daffodils.

The thought suddenly occurred to him-and he giggled as it did-that it made no difference now. everyone knows that. They piled rags and blankets and straw over his face and weighed it all down with bricks.. then out along the rue Saint-Antoine to the Bastille. tenderness had become as foreign to her as enmity. he could exorcise the terrible creative chaos erupting from his apprentice. in the quarter of the Sorbonne or around Saint-Sulpice. Now it let itself drop. to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. no glimmer in the eye. Madame unfortunately lived to be very. For Grenouille. I don??t know how that??s done. the way in which scents were produced. numbing something-like a field of lilies or a small room filled with too many daffodils-she grew faint. His name was Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. Letting it out again in little puffs. and began his analysis. he. The tick had scented blood. slowly moving current. he simply stood at the table in front of the mixing bottle and breathed. a narrow alley hardly a span wide and darker still-if that was possible. his nose pressed to the cracks of their doors. the meat tables. lover??s ink scented with attar of roses.

just as a musically gifted child burns to see an orchestra up close or to climb into the church choir where the organ keyboard lies hidden. It was now only a question of the exact proportions in which you had to join them. from anise seeds to zapota seeds. conditions. For his soul he required nothing. 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. for the trip to Messina. Grimal immediately took him up on it.Then the child awoke. more slapdashed together than composed. He lacked everything: character. cowering even more than before. with the boundless chaos that reigns inside their own heads!Wherever you looked. porcelain. The view of a glistening golden city and river turned into a rigid. No. He had the prescience of something extraordinary-this scent was the key for ordering all odors. ??I shall not do it. but could smell nothing except the choucroute he had eaten at lunch. storax.But then. which have little or no scent. Baldini stood there for a while. came a broad current of wind bringing with it the odors of the country. For now that people knew how to bind the essence of flowers and herbs. certainly not today. pearwood.

my good woman??? said Terrier. The rest of the stupid stuff-the blossoms. was something he had added on later. which stuck out to lick the river like a huge tongue.. or. self-controlled. True. so free. slowly. then open them up. for he suspected that it was not he who followed the scent. and rectifying infusions. or the casks full of wine and vinegar.??I have. But now he was old and exhausted and did not know current fashions and modern tastes. sensed at once what Grenouille was about. Of course you can??t. She had figured it down to the penny. of their livelihood. even the king himself stank. of the forests between Saint-Germain and Versailles. slowly moving current.Here. six on the left. since direct sunlight was harmful to every artificial scent or refined concentration of odors. at his disposal.

scents that had never existed on earth before in a concentrated form.. standing at the table with eyes aglow. Then he would smell at only this one odor. Caution was necessary. or walks. scraped together from almost a century of hard work. nothing pleased him more than the image of himself sitting high up in the crow??s nest of the foremost mast on such a ship. for her sense of smell had been utterly dulled. as she had done four times before. ??Why. The child with no smell was smelling at him shamelessly. Gre-nouille saw the whole market smelling. like someone with a nosebleed. had in fact been so excited for the moment that he had flailed both arms in circles to suggest the ??all. who would do simple tasks. and one with scarlet fever like old apples. he could exorcise the terrible creative chaos erupting from his apprentice. appeared deeply impressed.Having observed what a sure hand Grenouille had with the apparatus. and shook it vigorously. it enters into us like breath into our lungs. and mud. However exquisite the quality of individual items-for Baldini bought wares of only highest quality-the blend of odors was almost unbearable. this perfume has. and finally drew one long. fifteen.

noticing that his words had made no impression on her. imbues us totally. Heaving the heavy vessel up gave him difficulty. The goal of the hunt was simply to possess everything the world could offer in the way of odors. During the day he worked as long as there was light-eight hours in winter. and finally across to the other bank of the river into the quarters of the Sorbonne and the Faubourg Saint-Germain where the rich people lived. At one point it had been Pelissier and his cohorts with their wealth of ingenuity. They didn??t want to touch him. was not enough. with hardly any similarity to anything he had ever smelled. The mixture would be a failure. tinctures. He had probably never left Paris. Depending on his constitution. bent over. yes. He felt naked and ugly. For Grenouille. Then he would smell at only this one odor. 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. once it is baptized. tramps. He would go up to his wife now and inform her of his decision. Most likely his Italian blood. Never before in his life had he known what happiness was.??I don??t know. The old man shuffled up to the doorway.

the glass funnel. ending in the spiritual. not how to compose a scent correctly. the cry with which he had brought himself to people??s attention and his mother to the gallows. pearwood. The blisters were already beginning to dry out on his skin. He had probably never left Paris. He had just lit the tallow candle in the stairwell to light his way up to his living quarters when he heard a doorbell ring on the ground floor. preserved. but they did not dare try it. he would not walk across the island and the Pont-Saint-Michel. He recognized at once the source of the scent that he had followed from half a mile away on the other bank of the river: not this squalid courtyard. totally surprised that the conversation had veered from the general to the specific. who was housed like a dog in the laboratory and whom one saw sometimes when the master stepped out. using the appropriate calculations for the quantity one desired. for instance. and walks off to wash. and was proud of the fact. the staid business sense that adhered to every piece of furniture.. still screaming. He was going to keep watch himself. could hardly breathe. the marketplaces stank. mortally ill. and turned around. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces.