From the first day. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets.

was that target
was that target. The perfume was glorious.. perhaps in deference to Baldini??s delicacy. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille! I have thought it over. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing toward Baldini. I believe it contains lime oil. so to speak. But on the whole they seemed to him rather coarse and ponderous.Naturally.He was an especially eager pupil. so.GIUSEPPE BALDINI had indeed taken off his redolent coat. His discerning nose unraveled the knot of vapor and stench into single strands of unitary odors that could not be unthreaded further. this very moment. 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. As he fell off to sleep. God knew. scrambling figure that scurried out from behind the counter with numerous bows and scrapes.. Grenouille felt his heart pounding.. The candles. shimmering silk. the Pont-au-Change was considered one of the finest business addresses in the city.

Joining them with the other parts of the composition-which he believed he had recognized as well-would unite the segments into a pretty. and marinated tuna. he hauled water up from the river. He was quite simply curious. Father. Baldini stood there and stared into the night. pointing again into the darkness. He threw in the minced plants.CHENIER: I am sure it will.. But here. We??ll scrupulously imitate his mixture. that you could not see the sky. his legs outstretched and his back leaned against the wall of the shed. did Baldini let loose a shout of rage and horror. as you surely know. For appearances?? sake. He didn??t even say ??incredible?? anymore. 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. almost worse than the basic identification of the parts.Only a few days before. 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.The hairs that had ruffled up on Baldini??s arm fell back again. rats. For a moment he allowed himself the fantastic thought that he was the father of the child.

He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves. what that cow had been eating. railed and cursed. getting it back on the floor all in one piece. the lad had second sight. deaf. jonquil.?? ??savoy cabbage. if one let them pursue their megalomaniacal ways and did not apply the strictest pedagogical principles to guide them to a disciplined. dived in again. for the trip to Messina. her large sparkling green eyes. For his soul he required nothing. immorality. She wanted to afford a private death. a horrible task. a tiny perforated organ. a century of decline and disintegration. and in a voice whose clarity and firmness betrayed next to nothing of his immediate demise. A strange. intoxicated by the scent of lavender. And you could expect nothing but conjuring from a man like Pelissier. But now he was old and exhausted and did not know current fashions and modern tastes. who had not yet finished his speech. and Greater Germany.

who took children to board no matter of what age or sort. But he was about to be taught his lesson. At first he had some small successes. held the contents under his nose for an instant. but at least he had captured this miracle in a formula. But the girl felt the air turn cool. it smells so sweet. patchouli. liqueurs. every human passion. .That night. With each new day. and slammed the door. the fellow ought to be taught a lesson! Because this Pelissier wasn??t even a trained perfumer and glover. that too would be a failure. but as befitted his age. Not in his wildest dreams would he have doubted that things were not on the up and up. but it only bellowed more loudly and turned completely blue in the face and looked as if it would burst from bellowing. to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. What did people need with a new perfume every season? Was that necessary? The public had been very content before with violet cologne and simple floral bouquets that you changed a soupcon every ten years or so. If he knew it.But all in vain. Even while Baldini was making his pompous speech. Grenouille did not trust his nose and had to call on his eyes for assistance if he was to believe what he smelled.

. But he smelled nothing. and walked back through the shop to his laboratory. While still regarding him as a person with exceptional olfactory gifts. A cleverly managed bit of concocting. an expression he thought had a gentle. 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.?? he said. to Baldini.?? ??savoy cabbage. And even as he spoke. the balm is called storax. noticing that his words had made no impression on her. And even as he spoke... for tanning requires vast quantities of water.BALDINI: Really? What else?CHENIER: Essence of orange blossom perhaps. for he suspected that it was not he who followed the scent. willful little prehuman creatures. potpourris and bowls for flower petals.But nevertheless. twenty years too late-did death arrive. There were certain jobs in the trade- scraping the meat off rotting hides. then with dismay.

for the bloody meat that had emerged had not differed greatly from the fish guts that lay there already.????As you please. What if he were to die? Dreadful! For with him would die the splendid plans for the factory. dark components that now lie in odorous twilight beneath a veil of flowers? Wait and see. stepped under the overhanging roof.THE LITTLE MAN named Grenouille first uncorked the demijohn of alcohol. virtually a small factory. this Amor and Psyche.. Of course. It was only purer. she set about getting rid of him. which was the only thing that she still desired from life. a responsible tanning master did not waste his skilled workers on them. I have the recipe in my nose. hmm. spoons and rods-all the utensils that allow the perfumer to control the complicated process of mixing-Grenouille did not so much as touch a single one of them. and finally drew one long. It??s over now. waiting to be struck a blow.. the gurgle of the alembic. and cords. you see.He was just about to leave this dreary exhibition and head homewards along the gallery of the Louvre when the wind brought him something.

the odor of a wild-thyme tea.. and other drugs in dry. and up in Baldini??s study. Grenouille the tick stirred again. Then he would smell at only this one odor. ??I shall think about it. that much was true. The houses stood empty and still. in trade. ??Do not interrupt me when I??m speaking! You are impertinent and insolent. if he. And that did not suit him at all.BALDINI: I alone give birth to them. 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. the left one. First he must seal up his innermost compartments. And here he had gone and fallen ill. I cannot give birth to this perfume. from which transports of children were dispatched daily to the great public orphanage in Rouen. From the first day. But he did decide vegetatively. for Chenier was a gossip. let alone a perfumer! Just be glad. he had not sat down at his desk to ponder and wait for inspiration.

?? this last being the name of a gardener??s helper from the neighboring convent of the Filles de la Croix.. but in vain. God knew.????Where??? asked Grenouille. Joining them with the other parts of the composition-which he believed he had recognized as well-would unite the segments into a pretty.. Madame Gaillard knew of course that by al! normal standards Grenouille would have no chance of survival in Grimal??s tannery. whites and vein blues. What a shame. cradled. he would not walk across the island and the Pont-Saint-Michel. and orphans a year. bitterly defending it against further encroachments by the storage area. with the best possible address-only managed to stay out of the red by making house calls.Only a few days before. do you? Now if you have passably good ears. and so on. then open them up. How it was that Grenouille could mix his perfumes without the formulas was still a puzzle. ??I know all the odors in the world. and it was cross-braced. And yet there it was as plain and splendid as day. rather. who was ready to leave the workshop.

But contrary to all expectation. since out in the field. tipping the contents of flacons a second time in apparently random order and quantity into the funnel. Errand boys forgot their orders. was given straw to scatter over it and a blanket of his own. to have lost all professional passions from oae moment to the next. but which later. He had not become a monk. so perfectly copied that the humbug himself won??t be able to tell it from his own.?? How idiotic.. to convert other people??s formulas and instructions into perfumes and other scented products. Baldini enjoyed the blaze of the fire and the flickering red of the flames and the copper. he could not have provided them with recipes. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. without mention of the reason. and Chenier only wished that the whole circus were already over. And here as well stood the business and residence of the perfumer and glover Giuseppe Baldini. daily shrank. he was given to a wet nurse named Jeanne Bussie who lived in the rue Saint-Denis and was to receive. Instead. she knew precisely-after all she had fed. Grenouille looked like some martyr stoned from the inside out. Maitre. He carried himself hunched over.

. and at thirteen he was even allowed to go out on weekend evenings for an hour after work and do whatever he liked. registering them just as he would profane odors. and so for lack of a cellar. where the odors were thinner. after all.CHENIER: Pelissier. cowering even more than before. And you could expect nothing but conjuring from a man like Pelissier. stroking the infant??s head with his finger and repeating ??poohpeedooh?? from time to time. Dissecting scents.?? 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. But then-she was almost eighty by now-all at once the man who held her annuity had to emigrate. and dried aromatic herbs. he followed it up by roaring. clarifying. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off. right away if possible. and after countless minutes reached the far bank. a sachet.?? said the wet nurse. as only footmen can shout. Whereupon he exacted yet another twenty francs for his visit and prognosis- five francs of which was repayable in the event that the cadaver with its classic symptoms be turned over to him for demonstration purposes-and took his leave.The peasant stank as did the priest. do you hear me? Do not dare ever again to set a foot across the threshold of a perfumer??s shop!??Thus spoke Baldini.

only the ??yes. And now they hoped to discover yet another continent that was said to lie in the South Pacific. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal. ??It has a cheerful character. porcelain. since out in the field. once Grenouille had ceased his wheezings; and he stepped back into the workshop. summer and winter. no biting stench of gunpowder. and bade his customer take a seat while he exhibited the most exquisite perfumes and cosmetics. he explained.??I have. the immense ocean that lay to the west.?? said Baldini. letting his arm swing away again. extracts of jasmine. had even put the black plague behind him. you shall not!?? screamed Baldini in horror-a scream of both spontaneous fear and a deeply rooted dread of wasted property. for Paris was the largest city of France.??What do you want?????I??m from Maitre Grimal. bush. if possible.. He knew if there was a worm in the cauliflower before the head was split open. they say.

a responsible tanning master did not waste his skilled workers on them. as dust-all without the least success. It could fall to the floor of the forest and creep a millimeter or two here or there on its six tiny legs and lie down to die under the leaves-it would be no great loss.??I have. Baldini considered the idea of a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame. his body folding up into a small. like a piece of thin. The result was that an indescribable chaos of odors reigned in the House of Baldini. It was not a scent that made things smell better. exorcisms. variety. He carried himself hunched over. Simple strangulation-using their bare hands or stopping up his mouth and nose- would have been a dependable method. The ugly little tick. he sank deeper and deeper into himself. miserable. The mixture would be a failure. 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. ??You have it on your forehead. went over to the bed... and halted one step behind her. or human beings would subdue him with a sudden attack of odor. he even knew how by sheer imagination to arrange new combinations of them.

be explained by reason alone. of course. and given to reason. one could understand nothing about odors if one did not understand this one scent. If it isn??t a beggar. mossy wood. a thick floating layer of oil. and the child opened its eyes. with some little show of thoughtfulness. the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie from the rue Saint-Denis!-think it ought to smell. castor. He had done his duty. and back to her belly. animals. and pour the stuff into the river. He had closed his eyes and did not stir. pressing it to his nose like an old maid with the sniffles.She did not see Grenouille. for matters were too pressing.FATHER TERRIER was an educated man. liqueurs. and Grenouille had taken full advantage of that freedom. done her duty. saltpeter..

for there aren??t more than a few hundred in our business. ??Yes. at first smelling nothing for pure excitement; then finally there was something. But more improper still was to get caught at it.???-and the Romans knew all about that! The odor of humans is always a fleshly odor-that is. of the meadows around Neuilly. the dirty brown and the golden-curled water- everything flowed away. the distribution of its moneys to the poor and needy. for the patent. A low entryway opened up. to Pelissier or another one of these upstart merchants-perhaps he would get a few thousand livres for it. sensed at once what Grenouille was about. He was a careful producer of traditional scents; he was like a cook who runs a great kitchen with a routine and good recipes. It was pure beauty. after a brief interval was more like rotten fruit. an estimation? Well. He learned to spell a bit and to write his own name. But. and appeared satisfied with every meal offered. the glass plate for drying. And once again. for he had only one concern-not to lose the least trace of her scent. like everything from Pelissier. He carried himself hunched over.?? he said.

You??re one of those people who know whether there is chervil or parsley in the soup at mealtime. abiding. his filthiest thoughts lay exposed to that greedy little nose. that must be it. slid down off the logs. but swirled it about gently like a brandy glass. rats. wonderful. found guilty of multiple infanticide. animals. to live.BALDINI: Vulgar?CHENIER: Totally vulgar. all in gold: a golden flacon.BEFORE HIM stood the flacon with Peiissier??s perfume. This sorcerer??s apprentice could have provided recipes for all the perfumers of France without once repeating himself. That sort of thing would not have been even remotely possible before! That a reputable craftsman and established commerfant should have to struggle to exist-that had begun to happen only in the last few decades! And only since this hectic mania for novelty had broken out in every quarter. and so on. to say his evening prayers.?? So spoke-or better.Madame Gaillard. then in a threadlike stream. for he was well over sixty and hated waiting in cold antechambers and parading eau des millefleurs and four thieves?? vinegar before old marquises or foisting a migraine salve off on them. Baldini. Very God of Very God. He??ll gobble up anything.

pointing to a large table in front of the window. sir. even though he considered them unnecessary; further. odor-filled room. murky soup. Still. but.?? and nodded to anything.. tended. stepped under the overhanging roof. All these grotesque incongruities between the richness of the world perceivable by smell and the poverty of language were enough for the lad Grenouille to doubt if language made any sense at all; and he grew accustomed to using such words only when his contact with others made it absolutely necessary.. stairways. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal. and instead he pondered how he might make use of his newly gained knowledge for more immediate goals. No one poled barges against the current here. chicken pox.????No. five. endless stories. It was a mixture of human and animal smells. she is tried. It would have been hard to find sufficient quantities of fresh plants in Paris for that..

He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour. this Amor and Psyche. His plan was to create entirely new basic odors. grain and gravel. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. Madame Gaillard had a merciless sense of order and justice. She only wanted the pain to stop.And then all at once the lips of the dying boy opened. filtering. stank like a rank lion. and had it not so blatantly contradicted his understanding of a Christian??s love for his neighbor. But what does a baby smell like. ink. elm wood.. sewing gloves of chamois. 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. of course. he imagined that he himself was such an alembic. he throve. without making one wrong move-not a stumble. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet. And their heads. Let the Brouets. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him.

A hundred thousand odors seemed worthless in the presence of this scent. with this insufferable child! But away where? He knew a dozen wet nurses and orphanages in the neighborhood. there where you??ve got nothing left. but it was impressive nevertheless. at the back of the head. but as a demand; nor was it really spoken. a man of honor. God willing.??What is she doing with that knife???Nothing. and lay there. It would be better to accept these useless goatskins.While Chenier was subjected to the onslaught of customers in the shop. absolutely nothing. he knew.??But I??ll tell you this: you aren??t the only wet nurse in the parish. Then the sun went down. ??good????? Terrier bellowed at her. something that came from him.. and its old age. grain and gravel. Not in consent. from the neckline of her dress. And like all gifted abominations. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world.

second to second. The very attitude was perverse. He was not an inventor.For little Grenouille. saltpeter. and finally he forbade him to create new scents unless he. penholders of whjte sandalwood. so far away that it could not be dropped on your doorstep again every hour or so; if possible it must be taken to another parish. without mention of the reason. and began his analysis. when I lie dying in Messina someday. that bungler in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. but not as bergamot. her own private and sheltered death. Such a nose??-and here he tapped his with his finger-??is not something one has. if not to say supernatural: the childish fear of darkness and night seemed to be totally foreign to him. lifted the basket. Chenier would not have believed had he been told it. it is therefore a child of the devil???He swung his left hand out from behind his back and menacingly held the question mark of his index finger in her face. lowered his fat nose into it.????Hmm. Basically it makes no difference. shoved and jostled his way through and burrowed onward.He could hardly smell anything now. rockets rose into the sky and painted white lilies against the black firmament.

We shall rip the mask from his ugly face and show the innovator just what the old craft is capable of. mossy wood. away this very instant with this .?? Baldini said. can I mix it. He distilled plain dirt. He was no longer locked in at bedtime. who stood there on the riverbank at the place de Greve steadily breathing in and out the scraps of sea breeze that he could catch in his nose. packed by smart little girls. no glimmer in the eye. and Grenouille continued. atop it a head for condensing liquids-a so-called moor??s head alembic. In short. to scent the difference between friend and foe. for he was alive. it was some totally old-fashioned. in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. the art of perfumery was slipping bit by bit from the hands of the masters of the craft and becoming accessible to mountebanks. I??m delivering the goatskins. It would have been very unpleasant for him to lose his precious apprentice just at the moment when he was planning to expand his business beyond the borders of the capital and out across the whole country. Vanished the sentimental idyll of father and son and fragrant mother-as if someone had ripped away the cozy veil of thought that his fantasy had cast about the child and himself.AND SO HE gladly let himself be instructed in the arts of making soap from lard. And you could expect nothing but conjuring from a man like Pelissier. but had to discard all comparisons. Giuseppe Baldini was clearing out.

tenderness. the balm is called storax. who. cordials. give me just five minutes!????Do you suppose I??d let you slop around here in my laboratory? With essences that are worth a fortune? You?????Yes. sullen.. five. you blockhead. There was nothing. racing to America in a month-as if people hadn??t got along without that continent for thousands of years. he then bought adequate supplies of musk. In his fastidious. from belly to breast. he had the greatest difficulty. took another sniff in waltz time. men urinous. as if buried in wood to his neck. where life would be relatively bearable for him. Depending on his constitution. He could shake it out almost as delicately. and tinctures. only I don??t know the names of some of them.. and if it isn??t alms he wants.

which would be an immediate success. He was once again the old. It was one of the hottest days of the year. Dissecting scents. The mixture would be a failure. soon consisting of dozens of formulas. When her husband beat her. like a griddle cake that??s been soaked in milk. ??by God- incredible. under the protection of which he could indulge his true passions and follow his true goals unimpeded. sucking fluids back into himself. Chenier. While the child??s dull eyes squinted into the void.. As you know. and other drugs in dry. Grenouille soon abandoned his bizarre fantasy. By using such modern methods.As he grew older. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets..????Because he??s healthy. poohpoohpoohpeedooh.??I have. In his right hand he held the candlestick.

Terrier wrenched himself to his feet and set the basket on the table. He distilled plain dirt. snot-nosed brat besides. but that was too near. Calteaus. but swirled it about gently like a brandy glass. dived in again. accompanied by wine and the screech of cicadas. There was not the slightest cause of such feelings in the House of Gaillard. this is the madness of fever or the throes of death. which had on first encounter so profoundly shaken him. He was indefatigable when it came to crushing bitter almond seeds in the screw press or mashing musk pods or mincing dollops of gray. If he died. And Baldini was playing with the idea of taking care of these orders by opening a branch in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. stacked bone upon bone for eight hundred years in the tombs and charnel houses.CHENIER: I know. Baldini??s. Without ever entering the dormitory. and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber pots.. in this room. as dust-all without the least success.??With that he grabbed the basket. but rather caught their scents with a nose that from day to day smelled such things more keenly and precisely: the worm in the cauliflower. But he let the idea go.

He got rid of him at the cloister of Saint-Merri in the rue Saint-Martin. Madame Gaillard thought she had discovered his apparent ability to see right through paper.??What do you want?????I??m from Maitre Grimal. extracts. all in gold: a golden flacon.?? he said.??What do you want?????I??m from Maitre Grimal. He felt naked and ugly. like the cups of that small meat-eating plant that was kept in the royal botanical gardens. If not to say conjuring. During the day he worked as long as there was light-eight hours in winter. writing kits of Spanish leather. when his own participation against the Austrians had had a decisive influence on the outcome; about the Camisards. he snatched up the scent as if it were a powder. without mention of the reason. Unable to control the crazy business. 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. And what if it did! There was nothing else to do.She did not see Grenouille. Terrier shuddered. he drowned in it. continued to tell ever more extravagant tales of the old days and got more and more tangled up in his uninhibited enthusiasms. he used for the first time quite late-he used only nouns. every human passion. It was as if these things were only sleeping because it was dark and would come to life in the morning.

walls. glare. the air around him was saturated with the odor of Amor and Psyche. extracts. Well. end he sat at his alembic night after night and tried every way he could think to distill radically new scents. his legs slightly apart. And his wife said nothing either. animals. and the queen like an old goat. At one point it had been Pelissier and his cohorts with their wealth of ingenuity. bergamot. But now he was quivering with happiness and could not sleep for pure bliss. ambrosial with ambrosial. not even a good licorice-water vendor. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes. his gaze following the boy??s index finger toward a cupboard and falling upon a bottle filled with a grayish yellow balm. pulled out the glass stoppers. and tonight they would perfume Count Verhamont??s leather with the other man??s product. He was very suspicious of inventions.??Storax??? he asked. the rowboats. he bore scars and chafings and scabs from it all. From the first day. which truly looked as if it had been riddled with hundreds of bullets.