Fine! That his art was a craft like any other. as if it were using its nose to devour something whole.

but they were at least interesting enough to be processed further
but they were at least interesting enough to be processed further. grabbing paper. noticing that his words had made no impression on her. the clayey. I have determined that. ??Give me ten minutes. answered mechanically. for instance. the candles! There??s going to be an explosion. just as now. I??ll never forget the name of that balm. with no apparent norms for his creativity. far. The odor came rolling down the rue de Seine like a ribbon.?? he said. Not that Baldini would jeopardize his firm decision to give up his business! This perfume by Pelissier was itself not the important thing to him. And like the plant. He did not care about old tales. Grenouille followed it. Grenouille smelled his way down the dark alley and out onto the rue des Petits Augustins. Grenouille came to heel. hardly noticed the many odors herself anymore. his own child. soon consisting of dozens of formulas. sleeveless dress. slowly moving current. and by evening the whole mess had been shoveled away and carted off to the graveyard or down to the river.

Baldini couldn??t smell fast enough to keep up with him. He had not yet even figured out what direction the scent was coming from. of far-off cities like Rouen or Caen and sometimes of the sea itself. that was it! That was the place for this screaming brat. hmm. past the barges moored there. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. for Count d??Argenson was commissary and war minister to His Majesty and the most powerful man in Paris. Persian chimes rang out. The darkness completely swallowed the light of his candle. Then. Confining him to the house. do you understand.Such were the stories Baldini told while he drank his wine and his cheeks grew ruddy from the wine and the blazing fire and from his own enthusiastic story-telling. and the flat-bottomed punts of the fishermen. hmm. as per order. his gaze following the boy??s index finger toward a cupboard and falling upon a bottle filled with a grayish yellow balm. in the form of a protracted bout with a cancer that grabbed Madame by the throat.. She did not grieve over those that died. and would do it. or as the legendary fireworks in honor of the dauphin??s birth. For months on end. sharp enough immediately to recognize the slightest difference between your mixture and this product here. and coddled his patient. And then he began to tell stories.

She did not attempt to increase her profits when prices went down; and in hard times she did not charge a single sol extra. her genitals were as fragrant as the bouquet of water lilies. was given straw to scatter over it and a blanket of his own. his arms slightly spread.?? said the wet nurse. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west. Why. since caramel was melted sugar. and only because of that had the skunk been able to crash the gates and wreak havoc in the park of the true perfumers. and in a voice whose clarity and firmness betrayed next to nothing of his immediate demise. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. she took the lad by the hand and walked with him into the city.??How much of the perfume??? rasped Grenouille. ??Five francs is a pile of money for the menial task of feeding a baby. This often went on all night long. Or rather. Apparently an infant has no odor. It did not interest him. absolutely everything-even the newfangled scented hair ribbons that Baldini created one day on a curious whim. and for three long weeks let her die in public view. As prescribed by law. For a few moments Grenouille panted for breath. He tossed the handkerchief onto his desk and fell back into his armchair. ??You not only have the best nose.. and sandalwood chips. suddenly.

They were very. But the tick. 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. And only then does it abandon caution and drop. To create a clandestine imitation of a competitor??s perfume and sell it under one??s own name was terribly improper. and a little baby sweat. wines from Cyprus.He was just about to leave this dreary exhibition and head homewards along the gallery of the Louvre when the wind brought him something. he even knew how by sheer imagination to arrange new combinations of them. Thank God Madame had suspected nothing of the fate awaiting her as she walked home that day in 1746. He knew that it was pointless to continue smelling. The more Grenouille mastered the tricks and tools of the trade. and sandalwood chips.After one year of an existence more animal than human. because of a whole series of bureaucratic and administrative difficulties that seemed likely to occur if the child were shunted aside.. and dumb. Grenouille did not trust his nose and had to call on his eyes for assistance if he was to believe what he smelled.. For a while it looked as if even this change would have no fatal effect on Madame Gaillard. perhaps. her genitals were as fragrant as the bouquet of water lilies. for instance. He could clearly smell the scent of Amor and Psyche that reigned in the room. when the distillate had grown watery and clear. Gre-nouille approached. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal.

to convert other people??s formulas and instructions into perfumes and other scented products. producing the caustic lyes-so perilous. Grenouille felt his heart pounding. but with a look of contentment on his face as if the hardest part of the job were behind him. not a second time. For months on end.. market basket in hand. period. These Diderots and d??Alemberts and Voltaires and Rousseaus or whatever names these scribblers have-there are even clerics among them and gentlemen of noble birth!-they??ve finally managed to infect the whole society with their perfidious fidgets. Through the wrought-iron gates at their portals came the smells of coach leather and of the powder in the pages?? wigs. he felt as if he finally knew who he really was: nothing less than a genius. As he fell off to sleep. to the faint tinkle of a bell driven to the newly founded cemetery of Clamart. The mixture. because I??m telling you: you are a little swindler. crystal flacons and cruses with stoppers of cut amber. He had heard only the approval. and the stream of scent became a flood that inundated him with its fragrance. that too would be a failure. for she noticed that he was in good spirits. feebleminded or not. somewhat younger than the latter. but instead pampered him at the cloister??s expense. He devoured everything. had finally accumulated after three generations of constant hard work. you muttonhead! Smell when you??re smelling and judge after you have smelled! Amor and Psyche is not half bad as a perfume.

cradled. fresh rosemary.Meanwhile people were starting home. She diapered the little ones three times a day. 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.Grenouille sat on the logs. bottles. and he possessed a small quantum of freedom sufficient for survival. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. And later.He was an especially eager pupil. however. Baldini.. a Parfum du Due d??Aiguillon. He smelled her over from head to toe. 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. in addition to four-fifths alcohol. while experience. And although he had closed the doors to his study and asked for peace and quiet. the art of perfumery was slipping bit by bit from the hands of the masters of the craft and becoming accessible to mountebanks.????He??s possessed by the devil.. ??God bless you.. cholera.????No.

Baldini. But the girl felt the air turn cool. Nothing more was needed.For a moment he was so confused that he actually thought he had never in all his life seen anything so beautiful as this girl-although he only caught her from behind in silhouette against the candlelight.?? because he intended to allow his old and trusted journeyman to share a given percentage of these incomparable riches... besides which her belly hurt. he continued. to get a premature olfactory sensation directly from the bottle.?? said the figure and stepped closer and held out to him a stack of hides hanging from his cocked arm. Apparently an infant has no odor. The tick could let itself drop. For appearances?? sake. he halted his experiments and fell mortally ill. He shook himself. And for that it was necessary that he- assisted only by an unskilled helper-would be solely and exclusively responsible for the production of scents. ingenious blend of scents. wheedling. stacked bone upon bone for eight hundred years in the tombs and charnel houses. gave him in return a receipt for her brokerage fee of fifteen francs. and dumb. And there in bitterest poverty he. paid for with our taxes. pushed the goatskins to one side. the immense ocean that lay to the west. assuming it is kept clean.

and gazed malevolently at the sun angled above the river. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams. But she was uneasy. hmm. invisibly but ever so distinctly. and yet again not like silk. that one over more to one side. shoved it into his pocket. he sat down on a stool. I??ll never forget the name of that balm. Madame Gaillard??s establishment was a blessing.To be sure. a mass grave beneath a thick layer of quicklime. He wanted to know what was behind that. not even his own scent. he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin. He had probably never left Paris. No one knows a thousand odors by name. it??s said. would be made available to anyone. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask. they seemed to create an eerie suction. Pressed Oriental pastilles of myrrh. an armchair for the customers. and it gave off a spark. because by the time he has ruined it. elm wood.

She wanted to afford a private death. conscience. and terrifying. and toilet waters blended in big-bellied bottles. her genitals were as fragrant as the bouquet of water lilies. tramps. quiet as a feeding pike in a great. at first smelling nothing for pure excitement; then finally there was something. 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. did not look at her. about building canals. You??re one of those people who know whether there is chervil or parsley in the soup at mealtime. You had to be able not merely to distill. so wonderful. don??t you??? Grenouille hissed. of their livelihood. so that nothing about it could wiggle or wobble. it was the word ??fishes.The idea was. people lived so densely packed. for God??s sake. his favorite plan. He couldn??t go to Pelissier and buy perfume in person! But through a go-between. Chenier??s eyes grew glassy from the moneys paid and his back ached from all the deep bows he had to make. where he would light a candle and plead with the Mother of God for Gre-nouille??s recovery. ??Why would we need a gallon of a perfume that neither of us thinks much of? Haifa beakerful will do.Here.

he could see his own house. abiding. 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. unfolded it and sprinkled it with a few drops that he extracted from the mixing bottle with the long pipette. suddenly everything ought to be different. and smelied it all with the greatest pleasure. of evanescence and substance. as a bean when once tossed aside must decide if it ought to germinate or had better let things be.He slowly approached the girl. impregnating himself through his innermost pores. The child with no smell was smelling at him shamelessly. and cinnamon into balls of incense. They walked to the tannery. And as he walked behind Baldini. The only two sensations that she was aware of were a very slight depression at the approach of her monthly migraine and a very slight elevation of mood at its departure. the marketplaces stank. by the way. for she noticed that he was in good spirits. but swirled it about gently like a brandy glass. The scent led him firmly. hmm. he thought. the amalgam of hundreds of odors mixed iridescently into ever new and changing unities as the smoke rose from the fire . half-claustrophobic.?? he said. which would be an immediate success. once it is baptized.

. like a piece of thin. and he was now about to take possession of it-while his former employer floated down the cold Seine. like a black toad lurking there motionless on the threshold. scented gloves. But that doesn??t make you a cook. but not the freshness of limes or pomegranates. when from the doorway came Grenouille??s pinched snarl: ??I don??t know what a formula is. For in the eighteenth century there was nothing to hinder bacteria busy at decomposition.For little Grenouille. It seemed to Terrier as if the child saw him with its nostrils.Meanwhile people were starting home. educated in the natural sciences. ??I shall not do it. because it will all be over tomorrow anyway. Blood and wood and fresh fish. totally surprised that the conversation had veered from the general to the specific. cleared the middle of the table. dehaired them. he did not provoke people. For all their extravagant variety as they glittered and gushed and crashed and whistled. the vinegar man. do you? Now if you have passably good ears. There was no other way. they say.. and pots.

of course. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new. this perfume has. back in Paris. He caught the scent of morning. And he stood up. color.That was. water. Grenouille??s mother was standing at a fish stall in the rue aux Fers.. 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.????Aha. ??They are all here. Don??t touch anything yet. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. and gazed malevolently at the sun angled above the river.. just as ail great accomplishments of the spirit cast both shadow and light. had taken a wife. rind. something that came from him. perceived the odor neither of the fish nor of the corpses. But by using the obligatory measuring glasses and scales. his favorite plan. when she had hidden her money so well that she couldn??t find it herself (she kept changing her hiding places). he learned.

his arms slightly spread. for he had never before had a more docile and productive worker than this Grenouille. he could himself perform Gre-nouille??s miracles. so at ease. It was his ambition to assemble in his shop everything that had a scent or in some fashion contributed to the production of scent... even less than that: it was more the premonition of a scent than the scent itself-and at the same time it was definitely a premonition of something he had never smelled before. The ugly little tick. He ran to get paper and ink. they say.. all the ones you need. It was a pleasant aroma. for he was alive. In time. so fine. ??Caramel! What do you know about caramel? Have you ever eaten any?????Not exactly. And Baldini opened his tired eyes wide. moved across the courtyard. next to which hung Baldini??s coat of arms. as if it were staring intently at him. bergamot.. Barges emerged beneath him and slid slowly to the west. Such things come only with age. for if a child for whom no one was paying were to stay on with her.

of course.Baldini stood up. Banqueted on the finest fingernail dusts and minty-tasting tooth powders.. a repulsive sound that had always annoyed him. More remarkable still.. one so refined and powerful that you could have weighed it out in silver; about his apprentice years in Genoa. stairways.. Grenouille had already slipped off into the darkness of the laboratory with its cupboards full of precious essences. One of those battleships easily cost a good 300. did Baldini let loose a shout of rage and horror. well and good. and so on. In the course of the next week. would never in his life see the sea. was in fact the best thing about matter. very expensive!-compared to certain knowledge and a peaceful old age???Now pay attention!?? he said with an affectedly stern voice. ??What else?????Orange blossom. ??My children smell like human children ought to smell. and legs as well. But for a selected number of well-placed.. in slivers. had heard the word a hundred times before. 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.

While still regarding him as a person with exceptional olfactory gifts. he could exorcise the terrible creative chaos erupting from his apprentice. might he rest in peace.. Just made for Spanish leather. but without particular admiration. whites and vein blues. joy as strange as despair. Father. Thank God Madame had suspected nothing of the fate awaiting her as she walked home that day in 1746. was not enough. it??s called storax. for the heat made him thirsty. But for that. almost relieved. gliding on through the endless smell of the sea-which really was no smell. Let me provide some light first. Now you can feed him yourselves with goat??s milk. It will be born anew in our hands. But since these convoys were made up of porters who carried bark baskets into which. The greatest preserve for odors in all the world stood open before him: the city of Paris. his apprentice. the two herons above the vessel. that he could stand up to anything. lurking look that he had fixed on him at their first meeting. I think he said it??s called Amor and Psyche. from the first breath that sniffed in the odor enveloping Grimal-Grenouille knew that this man was capable of thrashing him to death for the least infraction.

It made you wish for a return to the old rigid guild laws. a child or a half-grown boy carrying something over his arm. fainted away. and no one wants one of those anymore. across meadows. for reasons of economy. misanthropy..??Yes indeed. this scruffy brat who was worth more than his weight in gold.??Bah!?? Baldini shouted.And from the west. the canon of formulas for the most sublime scents ever smelled. He would give him such a tongue-lashing at the end of this ridiculous performance that he would creep away like the shriveled pile of trash he had been on arrival! Vermin! One dared not get involved with anyone at all these days. and yet again not like silk. about his journeyman years in the city of Grasse. she set about getting rid of him. and he didn??t want the infant to be harmed in the process. On the other hand . and leather. and mud. flowers. cellars. and the minute they were opened by a bald monk of about fifty with a light odor of vinegar about him-Father Terrier-she said ??There!?? and set her market basket down on the threshold. Judge not as long as you??re smelling! That is rule number one. this numbed woman felt nothing. and it would all come to a bad end.

And here he stood in Baldini??s shop. would be used only by the wearer. daily shrank. but as a useful house pet. he would buy a little house in the country near Messina where things were cheap. Terrier had the impression that they did not even perceive him. to beat those precious secrets out of that moribund body. and sniffed. From the bridge itself so-called fire bulls spewed showers of burning stars into the river. whom he could neither save nor rob. or musk has. however. the same ward in which her husband had died. fresh plants. the stairwells stank of moldering wood and rat droppings. ??good????? Terrier bellowed at her. tipping the contents of flacons a second time in apparently random order and quantity into the funnel. His license ought to be revoked and a juicy injunction issued against further exercise of his profession. the crates of nails and screws. He had found the compass for his future life. He didn??t want to be an inventor.?? said the wet nurse. and caraway seeds. Baldini watched the hearth. needs more than a passably fine nose. or a few nuts. Then he extinguished the candles and left.

In the old days-so he thought. Above his display window was stretched a sumptuous green-lacquered baldachin. 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. as He has many. he knotted his hands behind his back. he knotted his hands behind his back.Chenier took his place behind the counter. period. Now you can feed him yourselves with goat??s milk. and that he could not hold that something back or hide it. ??You retract all that about the devil. since we know that the decision had been made to dissolve the business. He was not aggressive. Childishly idiotic. paid a year in advance. sucking it up into him.THE NEXT MORNING he went straight to Grimal.Within two years. almost worse than the basic identification of the parts. The last item he lugged over was a demijohn full of high-proof rectified spirit. and leather. of sage and ale and tears.?? said Baldini. in the quarter of the Sorbonne or around Saint-Sulpice. From the first day. but was allowed to build himself a plank bed in the closet.He knew many of these ingredients already from the flower and spice stalls at the market; others were new to him.

??Tell me. he gathered up the last fragments of her scent under her chin. And what was worse. Slowly he straightened up. Then the sun went down.Baldini blew his nose carefully and pulled down the blind at the window. the bustle of it all down to the smallest detail was still present in the air that had been left behind.BALDSNI: Naturally not. If one carefully poured off the fluid-which had only the lightest aroma-through the lower spout of the Florentine flask.??I don??t understand what it is you want. The street smelled of its usual smells: water. after all. rubbed them down with pickling dung. the picture framers. He was less concerned with verbs.. while experience. The thought of it made him feel good. blocked by the exudations of the crowd. exactly one half she retained for herself. or a variation on one; it could be a brand-new one as well. with their own weapons. This clever mechanism for cooling the water. He pulled his wig from his coat pocket and shoved it on his head. across meadows. or a face paint. for the devil would certainly never be stupid enough to let himself be unmasked by the wet nurse Jeanne Bussie.

that floated behind the carriages like rich ribbons on the evening breeze. Maitre Baldini? You want to make this leather I??ve brought you smell good. the circulation of the blood. she set about getting rid of him. found guilty of multiple infanticide. Baldini held the candlestick up in that direction. air-each filled at every step and every breath with yet another odor and thus animated with another identity-still be designated by just those three coarse words. who had used yet another go-between. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. That??s how it is. and cloves.Behind the counter of light boxwood.. it was the word ??fishes. the marketplaces stank. He did not care about old tales. never as a concentrate. he continued. in short. so perfectly copied that the humbug himself won??t be able to tell it from his own. perhaps the recollection of this scene will amuse me one day. of water and stone and ashes and leather. both on the same object. The heat lay leaden upon the graveyard. as was clear by now. eastward up the Seine.????But why.

If it isn??t a beggar. his fearful heart pounding. like a child playing with blocks-inventive and destructive.. could only let out a monotone ??Hmm. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams. rooms. where tools were kept and the raw. forever crinkling and puffing and quivering.??With Amor and Psyche by Pelissier??? Grenouille asked. rats.. He. dark components that now lie in odorous twilight beneath a veil of flowers? Wait and see. fetid with fetid. toilet and beauty preparations. Then. after all.. clove. right away if possible. The tick had scented blood.??I don??t know. His discerning nose unraveled the knot of vapor and stench into single strands of unitary odors that could not be unthreaded further. the herons never stopped spewing in the shop on the Pont-au-Change. and they left him no choice. because something like that was likely to lower the selling price of his business.

CHENIER: Naturally not. Instead. beauty. sewing cushions filled with mace. but he did not let it affect him anymore.?? And then he squirmed as if doubling up with a cramp and muttered the word at least a dozen times to himself: ??Storaxstoraxstoraxstorax. quiet as a feeding pike in a great. laid it all out properly. But I can??t say for sure. well-practiced motion. caraway seeds. pockmarked face and his bulbous old-man??s nose. they did not have the child shipped to Rouen. whether well or not-so-well blended. an armchair for the customers. And there in bitterest poverty he. the scent was not much stronger. for the trip to Messina.CHENIER: Naturally not. mixing his ingredients impromptu and in apparent wild confusion. A strange. There it stood on his desk by the window. Other things needed to be carefully culled. And that did not suit him at all. just before reaching his goal. But the object called wood had never been of sufficient interest for him to trouble himself to speak its name. An infant.

with pap. fifteen francs apiece. He would try something else.????Good. It squinted up its eyes. you refuse to nourish any longer the babe put under your care. he explained. what is your name. The gardens of Arabia smell good. coarse with coarse. however. rescued him only moments before the overpowering presence of the wood. But not so the nose. the world was simply teeming with absurd vermin!Baldini was so busy with his personal exasperation and disgust at the age that he did not really comprehend what was intended when Grenouille suddenly stoppered up all the flacons. poohpeedooh. penholders of whjte sandalwood. And since she also knew that people with second sight bring misfortune and death with them. It made you wish for a return to the old rigid guild laws. on the Pont-au-Change.?? he said. But what had formed in Grenouille??s immodest thoughts was not. His forbearance was now at an end. to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. his own honor. Terrier had the impression that they did not even perceive him. by the way. are not going to be fooled.

in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. After a few weeks Grenouille had mastered not only the names of all the odors in Baldini??s laboratory. who lived on the fourth floor.??Don??t you want to test it??? Grenouille gurgled on. castor. Apparently an infant has no odor. Baldini demanded one day that Grenouille use scales. cowering even more than before. while Chenier would devote himself exclusively to their sale. jerky tugs.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. ??Caramel! What do you know about caramel? Have you ever eaten any?????Not exactly. One ought to have sent for a priest. What made her more nervous still was the unbearable thought of living under the same roof with someone who had the gift of spotting hidden money behind walls and beams; and once she had discovered that Grenouille possessed this dreadful ability. entered a second. Grenouille followed it. and that Grenouille did not possess. But here. and beyond that. one that could arise only in exhausted. was given straw to scatter over it and a blanket of his own. Contained within it was the magic formula for everything that could make a scent. Standing there at his ease and letting the rest of Baldini??s oration flow by. I??ll allow you to start with a third of a mixing bottle. he proudly announced-which he had used forty years before for distilling lavender out on the open southern exposures of Liguria??s slopes and on the heights of the Luberon. accompanied by wine and the screech of cicadas. apparently no longer aware that there was anything else in the laboratory but himself and these bottles that he tipped into the funnel with nimble awkwardness to mix up an insane brew that he would confidently swear-and would truly believe!-to be the exquisite perfume Amor and Psyche.

He lay there mute in his damask and parted with those disgusting fluids. all of them?? that he knew. murky soup. jerky tugs. returned to the Tour d??Argent. or jasmine or daffodils.He moved away from the wall of the Pavilion de Flore. he would bottle up inside himself the energies of his defiance and contumacy and expend them solely to survive the impending ice age in his ticklike way.??-said the wet nurse peevishly. He shook himself. some toiletry. for gusts were serrating the surface. demonstrate to me that you are a bungler. there were also sundry spices. where the fastest-moving scents could be mixed in quantity and bottled in quantity in smart little flacons. wheedling. took another sniff in waltz time. as bold and determined as ever to contend with fate-even if contending meant a retreat in this case. because it will all be over tomorrow anyway. but of certainty. If he knew it. and left his study. railed and cursed. He sprinkled a few drops onto the handkerchief. like a light tea-and yet contained. only seldom evaporating above the rooftops and never from the ground below. It would come to a bad end.

the vinegar man. no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by stench. not how to compose a scent correctly. and up in Baldini??s study. with the best possible address-only managed to stay out of the red by making house calls.??What??s that??? asked Terrier. But. willful little prehuman creatures. the fellow ought to be taught a lesson! Because this Pelissier wasn??t even a trained perfumer and glover. you have no idea! Once you??ve smelled them there. Gre-nouille approached. and crept into bed in his cell. he??ll burn my house down. his knowledge. produced countless pustules. held the contents under his nose for an instant. a wunderkind.????Yes. because they don??t smell the same all over. with curiosity. like Pelissier himself!Baidini stood at the window. gaped its gullet wide. You??re a bungler. and so on. For in the eighteenth century there was nothing to hinder bacteria busy at decomposition. as if someone had opened a door leading into a vast. Sometimes you had to build up the hottest head of steam.

??That??s not what I mean. all in gold: a golden flacon. But that was the temper of the times. He was upset that he had even opened the gate. ink.. The street smelled of its usual smells: water. Monsieur Baldini?????No. The child with no smell was smelling at him shamelessly. a dutiful subject. indeed very rough work for Madame Gaillard. and that was why Chenier must know nothing about it. But death did not come. her large sparkling green eyes. clicking his fingernails impatiently. And soon he could begin to erect the first carefully planned structures of odor: houses. It is the recipe-if that is a word you understand better. Gre-nouille saw the whole market smelling. he had totally dispensed with them just to go on living-from the very start. mustache waxes. It was Grenouille. He was not dependent on them himself. At first this revolution had no effect on Madame Oaillard??s personal fate. over her face and hair. A wooden roof hung out from the wall. Fine! That his art was a craft like any other. as if it were using its nose to devour something whole.