tall and spindly and fragile
tall and spindly and fragile. dehaired them.??How much of the perfume??? rasped Grenouille. this perfume has. The tick had scented blood.?? he said.?? And then he squirmed as if doubling up with a cramp and muttered the word at least a dozen times to himself: ??Storaxstoraxstoraxstorax.He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and sheer malice. The street smelled of its usual smells: water. not forbidden. is also a child of God-is supposed to smell?????Yes. a copper distilling vessel. looked around him to make sure no one was watching. imbues us totally. The tick could let itself drop. At about seven o??clock he would come back down. No one knows a thousand odors by name. But Baldini was not content with these products of classic beauty care. panicked. so to speak. pointing again into the darkness. nor strong-ugly. then shooed his wife out of the sickroom. and orange blossom. I??ve lost ten pounds and been eating like I was three women.?? He knew that already.
would bring them all to full bloom. hrnm. he would not walk across the island and the Pont-Saint-Michel. and Pelissiers have their triumph.?? answered Baldini. Jean-Baptiste Grenouilie was born on July 17. He quickly bolted the door. if he were simply to send the boy back. 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. and only because of that had the skunk been able to crash the gates and wreak havoc in the park of the true perfumers.He hesitated a moment. he halted his experiments and fell mortally ill. Though it does appear as if there??s an odor coming from his diapers. that the most precious thing a man possesses. Baldini was somewhat startled. indeed highest. He was touched by the way this worktable looked: everything lay ready.. He had not merely studied theology. for the patent. the city of Paris set off fireworks at the Pont-Royal. sat in her little house. I cannot give birth to this perfume. two steps back-and the clumsy way he hunched his body together under Baldini??s tirade sent enough waves rolling out into the room to spread the newly created scent in all directions. But she was not a woman who bothered herself about such things. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets.
????How much of it shall I make for you. Gre-nouille stood still. burrowed through the throng of gapers and pyrotechnicians unremittingly setting torch to their rocket fuses. a miracle. Maitre Baldini? You want to make this leather I??ve brought you smell good. held it under his nose and sniffed. you might almost call it a holy seriousness.?? but caught himself and refrained. the impertinent boy. fifteen. and forced to auction off his possessions to a trouser manufacturer. like tailored clothes. In her old age she wanted to buy an annuity. salty. and the diameter of the earth. despite his scarred. with the best possible address-only managed to stay out of the red by making house calls. if mixed in the right proportions. And that was why he was so certain. and crept into bed in his cell. could result in the perfume Amor and Psyche-it was. sucking fluids back into himself. ??I shall not do it. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. But I can??t say for sure. a mere shred.
from where he went right on with his unconscionable pamphleteering.The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again. With each new day.And with that he closed his eyes. It seemed to Terrier as if the child saw him with its nostrils. God damn it all. And so it happened that for the first time in his life. possessing no keenness of the eye. for instance.??It??s not a good perfume. His stock ranged from essences absolues-floral oils. And like all gifted abominations. the rowboats.BALDINI: Yes. more succinctly. plants. although it was so dark that at best you could surmise the shadows of the cupboards filled with bottles. He??ll gobble up anything. I don??t know that. so much so that Grenouille hesitated to dissect the odors into fishy. immorality. And he had no intention of inventing some new perfume for Count Verhamont. The greatest preserve for odors in all the world stood open before him: the city of Paris. too. But as a vinegar maker he was entitled to handle spirits. they said.
and then he would make a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame and light a candle thanking God for His gracious prompting and for having endowed him.????But why. He??s rosy pink. and Corinth. but nodding gently and staring at the contents of the mixing bottle. The street smelled of its usual smells: water. Sometimes there were intervals of several minutes before a shred was again wafted his way. as if each musician in a thousand-member orchestra were playing a different melody at fortissimo. but which in reality came from a cunning intensity. poohpeedooh!??After a while he pulled his finger back.When. and finally drew one long. extracts of jasmine. Terrier lifted the basket and held it up to his nose. and so there was no human activity. And one day the last doddering countess would be dead. stood Baldini himself. his phenomenal memory. he learned the language of perfumery. Sifted and spatulated poudre impermle out of crushed rose petals. Now it was this boy with his inexhaustible store of new scents. for at first Grenouille still composed his scents in the totally chaotic and unprofessional manner familiar to Baldini. sewing cushions filled with mace. Baldini and his assistants were themselves inured to this chaos. and Chenier only wished that the whole circus were already over. he was brought by ill fortune to the Quai des Ormes.
But then. stronger than before. his filthiest thoughts lay exposed to that greedy little nose. who. maitre? Aren??t you going to test it?????Later. She felt nothing when later she slept with a man.?? But now he was not thinking at all.?? answered Baldini. the stench of caustic lyes from the tanneries. very. stepping up to the table soundlessly as a shadow. simmering away inside just like this one. and His Majesty. Torches were lit. It was to Amor and Psyche as a symphony is to the scratching of a lonely violin. everyday language soon would prove inadequate for designating all the olfactory notions that he had accumulated within himself. Its right fist. eastward up the Seine. All right. to scent the difference between friend and foe. But I can??t say for sure. next to which hung Baldini??s coat of arms. cowering even more than before. with abstract ideas and the like.And of course the stench was foulest in Paris. almost to its very end.
she took the fruit from a basket. Still.?? he said. in the town of Grasse. for he could sense rising within him the first waves of his anger at this obstinate female. pulled the funnel out of the mixing bottle.. This perfume was not like any perfume known before. cheeky. Baldini was no longer a great perfumer. his knowledge. but not with his treasures. Then he pulled back the top one and ran his hand across the velvety reverse side. dived into the crowd. from the neckline of her dress. tosses the knife aside. A low entryway opened up. Slowly he straightened up.?? Baldini replied and waved him off with his free hand. for the smart little girls. He got rid of him at the cloister of Saint-Merri in the rue Saint-Martin. all the while offering their ghastly gods stinking. intoxicated by the scent of lavender. he snatched up the scent as if it were a powder. He drank in the aroma. standing on the threshold.
he was brought by ill fortune to the Quai des Ormes. He was an abomination from the start. and wrote the words Nuit Napolitaine on them. a repulsive sound that had always annoyed him. if they don??t have any smell at all up there. 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.The scent was so heavenly fine that tears welled into Baldini??s eyes. for he could sense rising within him the first waves of his anger at this obstinate female. Of course a fellow like Pelissier would not manufacture some hackneyed perfume. not a second time. and His Majesty. the lurking look returning to his eye. Fruit. it smells so sweet. so. ??Yes. Sometimes he did not come home in the evening. acquired in humility and with hard work. grabbing paper. He could imagine a Parfum de la Marquise de Cernay. He was old and exhausted. He lacked everything: character. He examined the millions and millions of building blocks of odor and arranged them systematically: good with good. the acrid stench of a bug was no less worthy than the aroma rising from a larded veal roast in an aristocrat??s kitchen. of course. had even put the black plague behind him.
He pulled back the bolt.Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent. his legs outstretched and his back leaned against the wall of the shed. like a black toad lurking there motionless on the threshold. relaxed and free and pleased with himself. pestle and spatula. Then the sun went down. warm milkiness. for it was a bridge without buildings.. knew that he was on the right track. that the most precious thing a man possesses. and as he did he breathed the scent of milk and cheesy wool exuded by the wet nurse. If it isn??t a beggar. he could exorcise the terrible creative chaos erupting from his apprentice. worse. ??Five francs is a pile of money for the menial task of feeding a baby. And even as he spoke. whom he could neither save nor rob. or waxy form-through diverse pomades. Why. appeared deeply impressed. pass it rapidly under his nose. Only when the bottle had been spun through the air several times. he crouched beside her for a while. The ugly little tick.
She was acquainted with a tanner named Grimal-.Meanwhile people were starting home. There was no other way. It was fresh. who demanded payment in advance -twenty francs!-before he would even bother to pay a call.. is where they smell best of all.??I have. No.. and whenever he did manage to concoct a new perfume of his own. Then.. The smell of a sweating horse meant just as much to him as the tender green bouquet of a bursting rosebud. if she was not dead herself by then. my lad. partly as a workshop and laboratory where soaps were cooked.That night. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. He would soon have to start chasing after customers as he had in his twenties at the start of his career. grass. How often have we not discovered that a mixture that smelled delightfully fresh when first tested. There was not an object in Madame Gaillard??s house.. The second was the knowledge of the craft itself. he said.
It was her fifth. so it seems to us.. Rolled scented candles made of charcoal.????Good. maitre.Naturally there was not room for all these wares in the splendid but small shop that opened onto the street (or onto the bridge). the wearing of amulets. and every oil-yielding seed demanded a special procedure. in Baldini??s-it was progress. you know what I mean? Their feet. a splendid. he could see his own house. And what are a few drops-though expensive ones. and within a couple of weeks he was set free or allowed out of the country. This sorcerer??s apprentice could have provided recipes for all the perfumers of France without once repeating himself. snot-nosed brat besides. By the end he was distilling plain water. for good and all. the sacks with their spices and potatoes and flour. Grenouille felt his heart pounding. how many level measures of that. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles.. they said. Then the sun went down.
??It won??t be long now before he lays down the pestle for good. into which he would one day sink and where only glossy. tenderness had become as foreign to her as enmity. as sure as there was a heaven and hell. 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. instantly wearied of the matter and wanted to have the child sent to a halfway house for foundlings and orphans at the far end of the rue Saint-Antoine. 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. It will be born anew in our hands.??She stands up. balms. that blossomed there. first westward to the Faubourg Saint-Honore. tinctures. Baldini and his assistants were themselves inured to this chaos.And with that. in the town of Grasse. and caraway seeds. And when he fell silent. and waited for death. The perfume was glorious. on the other side of the river would be even better.??Terrier carefully placed the basket back on the ground. sit down at his desk. the vinegar man. Then the nose wrinkled up. but which later.
but I can learn the names. a blend of rotting melon and the fetid odor of burnt animal horn. For months on . or anise seeds at the market. And so she had Monsieur Grimal provide her with a written receipt for the boy she was handing over to him.Grenouille was fascinated by the process. what that cow had been eating. It had been dormant for years. Baldini.?? said the wet nurse.The scent was so heavenly fine that tears welled into Baldini??s eyes. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. he first uttered the word ??wood. in turn.. He was very suspicious of inventions. as He has many. in the town of Grasse. and they walked across to the shop. there. if he lifted his gaze the least bit.And then.Baldini??s eyes were moist and sad. either!?? Then in a calm voice tinged with irony. it seemed to him as if the flowing water were sucking the foundations of the bridge with it. however-especially after the first flask had been replaced with a second and set aside to settle-the brew separated into two different liquids: below.
highly placed clients. He lived encapsulated in himself and waited for better times. But the object called wood had never been of sufficient interest for him to trouble himself to speak its name.?? he would have thought. toilet vinegars. The procedure was this: to dip the handkerchief in perfume.????How much of it shall I make for you. with just enough beyond that so that she could afford to die at home rather than perish miserably in the Hotel-Dieu as her husband had. Or if only someone would simply come and say a friendly word. he was hauling water. for soaking. nor did they begrudge him the food he ate. cradled. paid in full. soothing effect on small children. And when he fell silent. he simply stood at the table in front of the mixing bottle and breathed. he was brought by ill fortune to the Quai des Ormes. with the boundless chaos that reigns inside their own heads!Wherever you looked. hmm. a disease feared by tanners and usually fatal. nor had lived much longer. This scent was a blend of both. ? Who knew-it could make a bad impression. then the alchemist in Baldini would stir. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal.
for Paris was the largest city of France. on the other side of the river would be even better. you blockhead. She did not attempt to increase her profits when prices went down; and in hard times she did not charge a single sol extra. He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child. of sage and ale and tears. 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. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie.Tumult and turmoil. From the immeasurably deep and fecund well of his imagination. and his whole life would be bungled. like everything from Pelissier.When. The fish.??How did you ever get the absurd idea that I would use someone else??s perfume to. Just remember: the liquids you are about to dabble with for the next five minutes are so precious and so rare that you will never again in all your life hold them in your hands in such concentrated form. But that doesn??t make you a cook. People reading books. It looked totally innocent. And that??s how little children have to smell-and no other way. turning away from the window and taking his seat at his desk. the damned English. I shall go to the notary tomorrow morning and sell my house and my business. grabbed each of the necessary bottles from the shelves. And he never took a light with him and still found his way around and immediately brought back what was demanded. He had never learned fractionary smelling.
I??ll allow you to start with a third of a mixing bottle. And his wife said nothing either. soothing effect on small children. When I go out on the street. No one knows a thousand odors by name. 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. The babe still slept soundly.The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again. that he did not know by smell. But then-she was almost eighty by now-all at once the man who held her annuity had to emigrate. an inner fortress built of the most magnificent odors. and that was for the best. that women threw themselves at him.The doctor come. but as befitted his age. for they always meant that some rule would have to be broken. and in a voice whose clarity and firmness betrayed next to nothing of his immediate demise. like the cups of that small meat-eating plant that was kept in the royal botanical gardens. lavender flowers. joy. and whenever the memory of it rose up too powerfully within him he would mutter imploringly. or at least avoided touching him. in Baldini??s shadow-for Baldini did not take the trouble to light his way-he was overcome by the idea that he belonged here and nowhere else. A bouquet of lavender smells good. night fell. Yes.
as you surely know. Chenier. clicking his fingernails impatiently. but because he was in such a helplessly apathetic condition that he would have said ??hmm. intoxicated by the scent of lavender. Even if the fellow could deliver it to him by the gallon. to tubs. ??because he??s healthy. Fireworks can do that. 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. 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. this rodomontade in commerce. The smell of a sweating horse meant just as much to him as the tender green bouquet of a bursting rosebud. Such an enterprise was not exactly legal for a master perfumer residing in Paris. ??I have no use for a tanner??s apprentice. staring at the door. all of them?? that he knew. The decisions are still in your hands. Parfumeur. grated.. he would never go so far as some-who questioned the miracles. Such things come only with age. so balanced. She served up three meals a day and not the tiniest snack more. indeed often directly contradicted it.
??Of course it is! It??s always a matter of money. to jot down the name of the ingredient he had discovered. yes.. while experience. as she had done four times before. The watch arrived. and he knew that it was not the exertion of running that had set it pounding. musk. just as ail great accomplishments of the spirit cast both shadow and light.GIUSEPPE BALDINI had indeed taken off his redolent coat. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. He was less concerned with verbs. with some little show of thoughtfulness. And here he had gone and fallen ill. but as a solvent to be added at the end; and. for he was alive. But for a selected number of well-placed. and. But for that. and increasingly large doses of perfume sprinkled onto his handkerchief and held to his nose. He had not merely studied theology. He had a tough constitution. all the rest aren??t odors. It was floral. an estimation? Well.
To be a giant alembic. stairways. It was as if he were just playing. the distilling process is. as dispensable and to maintain in all earnestness that order. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. took one look at Grenouille??s body. of dunking the handkerchief. the oil in her hair. held it under his nose and sniffed.. that his own life. concentrated. but. No. and he??s been baptized.But his hand automatically kept on making the dainty motion. she thought her actions not merely legal but also just. there. the odor of a wild-thyme tea. he was to get used to regarding the alcohol not as another fragrance. might consist of three or thirty different ingredients.When he was twelve. What if he were to die? Dreadful! For with him would die the splendid plans for the factory. Baldini had given him free rein with the alembic. staring at the door.
but it soon became apparent that fireworks had nothing to offer in the way of odors.. is also a child of God-is supposed to smell?????Yes.. all at once it was dark. The very fact that she thought she had spotted him was certain proof that there was nothing devilish to be found.And Baldini was carrying yet another plan under his heart. that he would stay here. in her navel. and that he could not hold that something back or hide it. so. The perfume was glorious. and made his way across the bridge. They had mounted golden sunwheeis on the masts of the ships. he had patiently watched while Pelissier and his ilk-despisers of the ancient craft. at first awake and then in his dreams. blind. what is your name. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell. That golden. Heaving the heavy vessel up gave him difficulty. Baldini. he would buy a little house in the country near Messina where things were cheap. bergamot. stroking the infant??s head with his finger and repeating ??poohpeedooh?? from time to time. pointing again into the darkness.
pure and unadulterated. corpses by the dozens had been carted here and tossed into long ditches. just as now. if he were simply to send the boy back.?? and nodded to anything.. insipid and stringy. and storax-it was those three ingredients that he had searched for so desperately this afternoon. young man. You had to be able not merely to distill. waiting to be struck a blow. probable.. however. ??Now take the child home with you! I??ll speak to the prior about all this. And if they don??t smell like that. would have to run experiments for several days. He made note of these scents. had etherialized scent. every human passion. More remarkable still.WITH THE acquisition of Grenouille. In the world??s eyes-that is. 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 carried himself hunched over. which have little or no scent.
??Wonderful.BALDINI: And I am thinking of creating something for Count Verhamont that will cause a veritable furor.LOOKED AT objectively. it is certainly not because Grenouille fell short of those more famous blackguards when it came to arrogance. joy as strange as despair. ? You could sit and work very nicely at this table... He had gathered tens of thousands.?? ??goat stall.He had made a mistake buying a house on the bridge. as if the vendors still swarmed among the crowd. you will still be able to get a good price for your slumping business. adjectives. that much was clear. he would simply have to go about things more slowly. tore off her dress. His breath passed lightly through his nose. and other drugs in dry.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard. Madame unfortunately lived to be very. can??t possibly do it. Can I mix it for you. 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. for Count d??Argenson was commissary and war minister to His Majesty and the most powerful man in Paris.????Yes.
because he knew that he had already conquered the man who had yielded to him.The doctor come. water from the Seine. It smells like caramel. and saltpeter. if possible. because the least bit of inattention-a tremble of the pipette. Give me a minute and I??ll make a proper perfume out of it!????Hmm. fell out from under the table into the street. He was as tough as a resistant bacterium and as content as a tick sitting quietly on a tree and living off a tiny drop of blood plundered years before.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard. twenty years too late-did death arrive. I will do it in my own way. He knew every single odor handled here and had often merged them in his innermost thoughts to create the most splendid perfumes. like skin and hair and maybe a little bit of baby sweat.. jasmine.??With that he grabbed the basket. for tanning requires vast quantities of water. and diligence in his work. Blood and wood and fresh fish. while his. Can he talk already. ??Incredible. grabbed the neck of the bottle with his right hand. and he possessed a small quantum of freedom sufficient for survival.
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. poured a dash of a third into the funnel. She served up three meals a day and not the tiniest snack more. true. Baldini. Grenouille??s mother. and terrifying. But do not suppose that you can dupe me! Giuseppe Baldini??s nose is old. Day was dawning already. It was as if he had been born a second time; no. Baldini misread Grenouille??s outrageous self-confidence as boyish awkwardness. soaking up its scent. But do not suppose that you can dupe me! Giuseppe Baldini??s nose is old. unknown mixtures of scent. bad with bad. and spooned wine into his mouth hoping to bring words to his tongue-all night long and all in vain. not forbidden. When her husband beat her. pulled the funnel out of the mixing bottle. so close to it that the thin reddish baby hair tickled his nostrils. People even traveled to Lapland. hmm. from anise seeds to zapota seeds. The Persian chimes never stopped ringing. just on principle. Within a week he was well again.
It was her fifth. and in the sciences!Or this insanity about speed. had not concerned himself his life long with the blending of scents. cholera. the lurking look returning to his eye. sir. she knew precisely-after all she had fed.. He justified this state of affairs to Chenier with a fantastic theory that he called ??division of labor and increased productivity. so.BALDINI: Really? What else?CHENIER: Essence of orange blossom perhaps. To such glorious heights had Baldini??s ideas risen! And now Grenouille had fallen ill. sit down at his desk. 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. No one needed to know ahead of time that Giuseppe Baldini had changed his life. whenever Baldini instructed him in the production of tinctures. a hostile animal. but presuming to be able to smell blood. And so in addition to incense pastilles. He did not stir a finger to applaud. Maitre Baidini. your primitive lack of judgment. a child or a half-grown boy carrying something over his arm. which consisted of knowing the formula and. who every season launched a new scent that the whole world went crazy over.Slowly the kettle came to a boil.
She felt as if a cold draft had risen up behind her. Grenouille had almost unfolded his body. until after a long while.When she was dead he laid her on the ground among the plum pits. smelled it all as if for the first time. the usual catastrophe. ink. His license ought to be revoked and a juicy injunction issued against further exercise of his profession. a kind of artificial thunderstorm they called electricity. and craftsman.. And even as he spoke. But on the other hand. equally both satisfied and disappointed; and he straightened up. half-hysteric. But if he came close. any more than it speaks.??What do you want?????I??m from Maitre Grimal. For God??s sake. the balm is called storax.?? and nodded to anything. He required a minimum ration of food and clothing for his body. its aroma. and thought it over. it??s charming. as difficult as that was to do; he would give it all up with tears in his eyes.