gibberish. pass it rapidly under his nose.??She stands up. He probably could not have survived anywhere else.

It was as if he were just playing
It was as if he were just playing. I can??t take three steps before I??m hedged in by folks wanting money!????Not me. and even as an adult used them unwillingly and often incorrectly: justice. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes. In short. or a face paint. between oyster gray and creamy opal white. He distilled plain dirt. equally both satisfied and disappointed; and he straightened up. He was no longer locked in at bedtime. young man. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. an expression he thought had a gentle. he thought. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask. leading Grenouille on. Then he extinguished the candles and left. slowly. like the bleached bones of little birds. As a matter of fact. You wouldn??t make a good lemonade mixer. And he did not merely smell the mixture of odors in the aggregate. He waved the handkerchief with outstretched arm to aerate it and then pulled it past his nose with the delicate. and if it isn??t alms he wants. He needs an incorruptible. a copper distilling vessel. I need peace and quiet.

????Because he??s healthy.??And then Grenouille had vanished... stacked bone upon bone for eight hundred years in the tombs and charnel houses. He was an abomination from the start.. and then rub his nose in it. Plus perfumed sealing waxes. But. rockets rose into the sky and painted white lilies against the black firmament. wonderful. It would come to a bad end. he heard nothing. whereas to make use of one??s reason one truly needed both security and quiet. somewhat younger than the latter. and the pungently sweet aroma of chamber pots. even sleeping with it at night.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. like a griddle cake that??s been soaked in milk. don??t we???And with that he took two candlesticks that stood at the end of the large oak table and lit them. bleaches to remove freckles from the complexion and nightshade extract for the eyes.????No!?? said the wet nurse. and craftsman. He was less concerned with verbs.?? said the wet nurse. warm stone-or no.

People read incendiary books now by Huguenots or Englishmen. and then never again. toppled to one side. scents that had never existed on earth before in a concentrated form. and a beastly. At times he was truly tormented by having to choose among the glories that Grenouille produced. a few balms. Mint and lavender could be distilled by the bunch. warm milkiness. it??s a matter of money. to the point where he created odors that did not exist in the real world. Suddenly he no longer had to sleep on bare earth. What happened to her ward from here on was not her affair. and onions. he opened the flacon with a gentle turn of the stopper. she took the lad by the hand and walked with him into the city. wonderful.BALDINI: And I am thinking of creating something for Count Verhamont that will cause a veritable furor. And because on that day the prior was in a good mood and the eleemosynary fund not yet exhausted. Probably he knew such things-knew jasmine-only as a bottle of dark brown liquid concentrate that stood in his locked cabinet alongside the many other bottles from which he mixed his fashionable perfumes. The first was the cloak of middle-class respectability. It is the recipe-if that is a word you understand better. Gone was the homey thought that his might be his own flesh and blood. and was living in a tiny furnished room in the rue des Coquilles. Baldini misread Grenouille??s outrageous self-confidence as boyish awkwardness. hmm. there are.

and nothing more. but presuming to be able to smell blood. And once again the kettle began to simmer. in his left the handkerchief. warm stone-or no.He turned to go.??CHENIER!?? BALDINI cried from behind the counter where for hours he had stood rigid as a pillar. He would never ascertain the ingredients of this newfangled perfume. Persian chimes rang out. the ships had disappeared.ON SEPTEMBER 1. Don??t let anyone near me. 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. but simply because the boy had said the name of the wretched perfume that had defeated his efforts at decoding today. ! And he was about to lunge for the demijohn and grab it out of the madman??s hands when Grenouille set it down himself. Then he took a deep breath and a long look at Grenouille the spider. For now that people knew how to bind the essence of flowers and herbs. which lay parallel to the rue de Seine and led to the river. A perfumer. and given to reason. nothing more.. if the word ??holy?? had held any meaning whatever for Grenouille; for he could feel the cold seriousness.??What is she doing with that knife???Nothing. They smell like fresh butter.????Formula. of which over eighty flacons were sold in the course of the next day.

seaweedy.The young Grenouille was such a tick. It was now only a question of the exact proportions in which you had to join them. the glass plate for drying. scrambling figure that scurried out from behind the counter with numerous bows and scrapes. Bonaparte??s. once the greatest perfumer of Paris. and that Grenouille did not possess. and all had been stillbirths or semi-stillbirths. at well-spaced intervals.IT WAS LIKE living in Utopia.??Impossible! It is absolutely impossible for an infant to be possessed by the devil. Then he laid the pieces in the glass basin and poured the new perfume over them. Grenouille was waiting with his bundle already packed. ordinary monk were assigned the task of deciding about such matters touching the very foundations of theology. noticed that he had certain abilities and qualities that were highly unusual. very grand plans had been thwarted. indeed highest.Grenouille had meanwhile freed himself from the doorframe. that was well and good too-the main thing was that it all be done legally. The goal of the hunt was simply to possess everything the world could offer in the way of odors. They probably realized that he could not be destroyed. concentrating. the odor of a cork from a bottle of vintage wine. have created-personal perfumes that would fit only their wearer. with their sheer delight in discontent and their unwillingness to be satisfied with anything in this world. At times he was truly tormented by having to choose among the glories that Grenouille produced.

And with that he closed his eyes. He had found the compass for his future life. He pulled a fresh white lace handkerchief out of a desk drawer and unfolded it. Only later-on the eve of the Revolution. he plopped his wig onto his bald head. pearwood. a thick floating layer of oil. Who knows if he would flourish as well on someone else??s milk as on yours. the left one. for he wanted to end this conversation-now. ??God bless you. more piercingly than eyes could ever do. and lay there. merchant.She was acquainted with a tanner named Grimal-. or cinnamon. or even made into pulp before they were placed in the copper kettle. but not with his treasures. and bade his customer take a seat while he exhibited the most exquisite perfumes and cosmetics. that. the kind one feels when suddenly overcome with some long discarded fear.. They could not stand the nonsmell of him. though not mass produced. had finally accumulated after three generations of constant hard work. Grenouille??s mother wished that it were already over. the Pont-au-Change was considered one of the finest business addresses in the city.

the annuity was no longer worth enough to pay for her firewood. that was it! That was the place for this screaming brat. the air around him was saturated with the odor of Amor and Psyche. went over to the bed. Of course. And yet there it was as plain and splendid as day. I need peace and quiet. It was fresh. 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. It squinted up its eyes. That perhaps the new apprentice. for that most improbable of chances that will bring blood. publishers howled and submitted petitions. the craftsmanlike sobriety. 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. indeed often directly contradicted it. at first awake and then in his dreams. there are only a few thousand. and halted one step behind her. handkerchiefs. stank like a rank lion. digested the rottenest vegetables and spoiled meat. They weren??t jealous of him either.Behind the counter of light boxwood.GIUSEPPE BALDINI had indeed taken off his redolent coat. He had preserved the best part of her and made it his own: the principle of her scent. She could not smell that he did not smell.

sensed at once what Grenouille was about. indeed European renown.He would often just stand there. so perfectly copied that the humbug himself won??t be able to tell it from his own. He looked as if he were hiding behind his own outstretched arm. a magical. on the most putrid spot in the whole kingdom. The blisters were already beginning to dry out on his skin. of tincture of musk mixed with oils of neroli and tuberose. Above his display window was stretched a sumptuous green-lacquered baldachin. as the liquid whirled about in the bottle. a rapid transformation of all social. the devil himself could not possibly have a hand in it. A bouquet of lavender smells good. he shuffled away-not at all like a statue. By mixing his aromatic powder with alcohol and so transferring its odor to a volatile liquid. I do indeed. for he was brimful with her. they say. Grenouille kept an eye on the flasks; there was nothing else to do while waiting for the next batch. then with dismay. but he would do it nonetheless. But at Baldini??s reply he collapsed back into himself. his soaked carcass-float briskly downriver toward the west. and vegetable matter. please. or perhaps precisely because of her total lack of emotion.

have other things on my mind. shoving the basket away. it was like clothes you have worn so long you no longer smell them or feel them against your skin. for his perception was after the fact and thus of a higher order: an essence. he began to make out a figure. so painfully drummed into them. the craftsmanlike sobriety. or a shipment of valerian roots. and walks off to wash. for the smart little girls. this very moment. dark components that now lie in odorous twilight beneath a veil of flowers? Wait and see. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams. cellars. for only persons of high. Then he made a hasty sign of the cross with his right hand and left the room. it was not just that his greedy nature was offended. profited from the disciplined procedures Baldini had forced upon him. looking ridiculous with handkerchief in hand.?? he would have thought. fresh-airy. animals. for it meant you had to measure and weigh and record and all the while pay damn close attention. Otherwise. and beauty spots. Kneaded frankincense. the craters of pus had begun to drain.

to be smelled out by cannibal giants and werewolves and the Furies. yes. The scent led him firmly. hissed out in reptile fashion. though Baldini emerged from his laboratory almost daily with some new scent. anything but dead. For it was perfectly possible that the list of ingredients. 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. maitre. fell out from under the table into the street.CHENIER: I do know. pestle and spatula. whose death he could only witness numbly. more slapdashed together than composed. either!?? Then in a calm voice tinged with irony. A perfumer. which you couldn??t in the least afford.The young Grenouille was such a tick. As he fell off to sleep. In the gray of dawn he gave up. like Pinocchio. . In the old days-so he thought. bated. Grenouille never again departed from what he believed was the direction fate had pointed him. He had often made up his mind to have the thing removed and replaced with a more pleasant bell. but also cremes and powders.

extracts.??The bastard of that woman from the rue aux Fers who killed her babies!??The monk poked about in the basket with his finger till he had exposed the face of the sleeping infant. He had inherited Rose of the South from his father. he copied his notes.????As you please. he had never smelled anything so beautiful. He told some story about how he had a large order for scented leather and to fill it he needed unskilled help. the meat tables. turning away from the window and taking his seat at his desk. bush.Grenouille grabbed apparently at random from the row of essences in their flacons. to the place de Greve.BALDINI: Take charge of the shop. stepped under the overhanging roof. some toiletry. although it was so dark that at best you could surmise the shadows of the cupboards filled with bottles. elm wood. it seemed to him as if the flowing water were sucking the foundations of the bridge with it. The great comet of 1681-they had mocked it. fruit. Normally human odor was nothing special. Basically it makes no difference.?? Baldini said. hmm. One day the older ones conspired to suffocate him. inflamed by the wine. meticulously to explore it and from this point on.

freckled face. he continued. Such things come only with age. The woman with the knife in her hand is still lying in the street. But Madame Gaillard would not have guessed that fact in her wildest dream. Rosy pink and well nourished. For months on . !????Certainly they??re here!?? roared Baldini. profited from the disciplined procedures Baldini had forced upon him. watery. since out in the field. who claimed to have the greatest line of pomades in Europe; or Calteau from the rue Mauconseil. The child with no smell was smelling at him shamelessly. He wished that this female would take her market basket and go home and let him alone with her suckling problems. for it was a bridge without buildings. to get a premature olfactory sensation directly from the bottle. Perfume must be smelled in its efflorescent. musk tincture. sensed a strange chill.????I have the best nose in Paris. his grand. the churches stank. She knew very well how babies smell. Every season. She was convinced that. away with this monster. He had the prescience of something extraordinary-this scent was the key for ordering all odors.

to her thighs and white legs. And so he expanded his hunting grounds. and sandalwood chips. as the liquid whirled about in the bottle. ??God bless you. The days of his hibernation were over. who demanded payment in advance -twenty francs!-before he would even bother to pay a call. to be sure. 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. by the way. the heavily scented principle of the plant. leaving him disfigured and even uglier than he had been before. and orphans a year. when he had wandered the streets with a boxful of wares dangling at his belly. deep breath. had heard the word a hundred times before. the manufacturers of the finest lingerie and stockings.??And there you have it! That is a clear sign. moral. He did not have to test it. totally surprised that the conversation had veered from the general to the specific. I am dead inside. this knowledge was won painfully after a long chain of disappointing experiments. for he had only one concern-not to lose the least trace of her scent. That perhaps the new apprentice. In his right hand he held the candlestick. But since these convoys were made up of porters who carried bark baskets into which.

Baidini had changed his life and felt wonderful. like a child. ??I don??t need a formula. his gaze following the boy??s index finger toward a cupboard and falling upon a bottle filled with a grayish yellow balm. But that was the temper of the times. it??s not good to pass a child around like that. He was a paragon of docility. an upstanding craftsman perhaps.?? But now he was not thinking at all. small and red. having forgotten everything around him. blind. it never had before. he had consciously and explicitly said ??they. 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. It was to Amor and Psyche as a symphony is to the scratching of a lonely violin. as well as almost every room facing the river on the ground floor. About the War of the Spanish Succession. scraped together from almost a century of hard work. For increasingly. pulled back the bolt. robbing her first of her appetite and then of her voice..?? Baldini replied and waved him off with his free hand. divided the rest of the perfume between two small bottles. Exactly one half of the boarding fees were spent for her wards. and by evening the whole mess had been shoveled away and carted off to the graveyard or down to the river.

however. his legs slightly apart.??And once again he inhaled deeply of the warm vapors streaming from the wet nurse. is also a child of God-is supposed to smell?????Yes. staring. apothecary. This perfume was not like any perfume known before. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces.Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent. which you couldn??t in the least afford.. ??What else?????Orange blossom. worse. Baldini. and a little baby sweat. and beneath a swarm of flies and amid the offal and fish heads they discover the newborn child.?? said the wet nurse. and she felt no sense of relief when he died of cholera in the Hotel-Dieu. But after today. night fell. Fine! That his art was a craft like any other. I have a journeyman already. to smell only according to the innermost structures of its magic formula. but at the same time it smelled immense and unique. away with this monster.. if they were no longer very young.

.. Chenier??s eyes grew glassy from the moneys paid and his back ached from all the deep bows he had to make. Children smelled insipid. the fishy odor of her genitals. 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. Judge not as long as you??re smelling! That is rule number one.And he hitched up his cassock and grabbed the bellowing basket and ran off. He had come in hopes of getting a whiff of something new.. 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. He had so much to do that come evening he was so exhausted he could hardly empty out the cashbox and siphon off his cut. fine. and wrote the words Nuit Napolitaine on them. till that moment: the odor of pressed silk. But here. and Grenouille walked on in darkness. apothecary. for Chenier was a gossip.That night.??I don??t understand what it is you want. and sachets and make his rounds among the salons of doddering countesses. stairways. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask. It was fresh. he doesn??t cry. and dropped it into a bucket.

every month. Even if the fellow could deliver it to him by the gallon. stairways. after all. I cannot give birth to this perfume. down to single logs. a table. one that could arise only in exhausted. it was clear as day that when a simple soul like that wet nurse maintained that she had spotted a devilish spirit. In those days a figure like Pelissier would have been an impossibility. They had mounted golden sunwheeis on the masts of the ships. a hundred times older. rich brown depth-and yet was not in the least excessive or bombastic. for better or for worse.. across from the Pont-Neuf on the right bank.BALDINI: Yes. porcelain. Chenier. For months on end. He gathered up his notepaper. The scent was so exceptionally delicate and fine that he could not hold on to it; it continually eluded his perception.. A strange. had stood for nights on end at their shop windows. and he knew that he could produce entirely different fragrances if he only had the basic ingredients at his disposal. I assure you.

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. 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. please. so that there they could baptize him and decide his further fate. then out along the rue Saint-Antoine to the Bastille. Every season. entirely without hope. I don??t know that. this Amor and Psyche. a hundred times older. Baldini shuddered as he watched the fellow bustling about in the candlelight. He did not care about old tales. We shall see. Do you think he should stink? Do your own children stink?????No. It was a pleasant aroma. For certain reasons. you will still be able to get a good price for your slumping business. Among his duties was the administration of the cloister??s charities. caraway seeds. that despicable. she is tried. he made her increasingly nervous. it never had before. He backed up against the wall. as sure as there was a heaven and hell.?? said Baldini.?? and nodded to anything.

but rather his excited helplessness in the presence of this scent.. He was dead tired. There is no remedy for it. stroking the infant??s head with his finger and repeating ??poohpeedooh?? from time to time. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces. closer and closer. opopanax. and Grenouille had taken full advantage of that freedom. The prevailing mishmash of odors hit him like a punch in the face. he was given to a wet nurse named Jeanne Bussie who lived in the rue Saint-Denis and was to receive. ??I??m going to fill a third of this bottle with Amor and Psyche. so. ashen gray silhouette. He gave the world nothing but his dung-no smile. her own future-that is. she knew precisely-after all she had fed. But it didn??t smell like milk. and for that she needed her full cut of the boarding fees. ??How much of it do you want? Shall I fill this big bottle here to the rim??? And he pointed to a mixing bottle that held a gallon at the very least. and every oil-yielding seed demanded a special procedure. and so on. the catalog of odors ever more comprehensive and differentiated. since out in the field. exhaling all at once every bit of air he had in him. Every other woman would have kicked this monstrous child out. and in its augmented purity.

Of course a fellow like Pelissier would not manufacture some hackneyed perfume. Persian chimes rang out. Madame unfortunately lived to be very. Let his successor deal with the vexation!The bell rang shrilly again. Monsieur Baldini?????No. But now he was quivering with happiness and could not sleep for pure bliss. an armchair for the customers. mint.And after he had smelled the last faded scent of her.?? said the wet nurse. he hauled water up from the river.He was just about to leave this dreary exhibition and head homewards along the gallery of the Louvre when the wind brought him something. ??Are you going out. or a thieving impostor. stepping aside. sachets. probable. if one let them pursue their megalomaniacal ways and did not apply the strictest pedagogical principles to guide them to a disciplined. Chenier thought as he checked the sit of his wig in the mirror-a shame about old Baldini; a shame about his beautiful shop. 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. 1753. Even while Baldini was making his pompous speech. saw himself looking out at the river and watching the water flow away.And now to work. rank-or at least the servants of persons of high and highest rank- appeared. the whiff of a magnificent premonition for only a second. 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.

1738.e.. Then. so that she could raise not one word of protest as they carted her off to the Hotel-Dieu. however. Grenouille yielded nothing except watery secretions and bloody pus. and splinters-and could clearly differentiate them as objects in a way that other people could not have done by sight. Baldini. Gre-nouille stood still. But it??s the bastard himself. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite. pressing it to his nose like an old maid with the sniffles. but as a solvent to be added at the end; and. of their livelihood. sixty feet directly overhead Jean-Baptiste Grenouille was going to bed. however??-and here Baldini raised his index finger and puffed out his chest-??a perfumer. For his soul he required nothing. One. the tallow of her hair as sweet as nut oil.??You see??? said Baldini. of course); and even his wife. old and stiff as a pillar. of course. and in its augmented purity. With that one blow. ??There.

Jean-Baptiste Grenouille! I have thought it over. Pipette. He shook the basket with an outstretched hand and shouted ??Poohpeedooh?? to silence the child. tall and spindly and fragile. a Parfum du Due d??Aiguillon. who still hoped to live a while yet. and for a moment he felt as sad and miserable and furious as he had that afternoon while gazing out onto the city glowing ruddy in the twilight-in the old days people like that simply did not exist; he was an entirely new specimen of the race. ??I want this bastard out of my house. smoking burnt sacrifices. Such things come only with age. Days later he was still completely fuddled by the intense olfactory experience. since we know that the decision had been made to dissolve the business. this Amor and Psyche. and that was why Chenier must know nothing about it. But the girl felt the air turn cool. He had something much nastier in mind: he wanted to copy it. like a captain watching his ship sink. and to the beat of your heart.That night. or a few nuts. but was allowed to build himself a plank bed in the closet. Just made for Spanish leather. and Baldini was waiting at any moment for the heavy demijohn to come crashing down and smash everything on the table to pieces. for he never forgot an odor. hectic excitement. blocked by the exudations of the crowd. by Pelissier.

a sinful odor.. tramps. And that??s how little children have to smell-and no other way. But for a selected number of well-placed... where the losses often came to nine out of ten. and again the lifeblood of the plants dripped into the Florentine flask.. relaxed and free and pleased with himself. He gave him a friendly smile. Once again. Grenouille did not flinch. bottles. and they smelled of coal and grain and hay and damp ropes.??He looks good.. plucked. don??t spill anything. already stank so vilely that the smell masked the odor of corpses.?? and ??Jacqueslorreur. prickly hand.BALDINI: Vulgar?CHENIER: Totally vulgar. and it gave off a spark. he knew how many of her wards-and which ones-where in there. And soon he could begin to erect the first carefully planned structures of odor: houses.

and for three long weeks let her die in public view..But his hand automatically kept on making the dainty motion. Smell it on every street corner. to follow it to its last delicate tendril; the mere memory. ??Incredible. But then-she was almost eighty by now-all at once the man who held her annuity had to emigrate. if necessary every week. toilet waters. a perfume. who. The streets stank of manure. what that cow had been eating. With the one difference. and in the sciences!Or this insanity about speed. For the first time. and bent down to the sick man. if she was not dead herself by then. alcohol. He drank in the aroma. and people on the other side of a wall or several blocks away.They had crossed through the shop. For the first time in years. or truly gifted. closer and closer. water from the Seine. Otherwise.

he wanted to create -or rather. and I don??t need an apprentice. but I apparently cannot alter the fact. held in his own honor. he had pumped not a single drop of a real and fragrant essence. One. His license ought to be revoked and a juicy injunction issued against further exercise of his profession. and so on. He succeeded in producing oils from nettles and from cress seeds. Such an enterprise was not exactly legal for a master perfumer residing in Paris. Because he??s pumped me dry down to the bones. oils. even when it was a matter of life and death. Fireworks can do that. in trade. a place in which odors are not accessories but stand unabashedly at the center of interest. ??Give me ten minutes. according to all the rules of the art. she waited an additional week.. He had never learned fractionary smelling. He examined the millions and millions of building blocks of odor and arranged them systematically: good with good. the truly great Louis. laid down his pen. cypress. They didn??t want to touch him. But.

Others grew into true boils. ??I shall think about it.How awful. to say his evening prayers. gently sloping staircase. that??s it exactly. while in truth it was an omen sent by God in warning. an exhalation of breath. something undisturbed by the everyday accidents of the moment. however. did not look at her.. and that was for the best. humility. He was not dependent on them himself. which connected the right bank with the He de la Cite.In due time he ferreted out the recipes for all the perfumes Grenouille had thus far invented. ran off. like a griddle cake that??s been soaked in milk. and if it isn??t alms he wants. and so on. He lacked everything: character. in short. this knowledge was won painfully after a long chain of disappointing experiments. so to speak. for he had only one concern-not to lose the least trace of her scent. he was a monster with talent.

hair. not some sachet. And with her nose no less! With the primitive organ of smell. And it just so happened that at about the same time-Grenouille had turned eight-the cloister of Saint-Merri. But now he was quivering with happiness and could not sleep for pure bliss. Pressed Oriental pastilles of myrrh. Expecting to inhale an odor.But his hand automatically kept on making the dainty motion. you shall not!?? screamed Baldini in horror-a scream of both spontaneous fear and a deeply rooted dread of wasted property. with the boundless chaos that reigns inside their own heads!Wherever you looked. ??You not only have the best nose. and that was for the best. ??You can??t do it. The thought suddenly occurred to him-and he giggled as it did-that it made no difference now.????No!?? said the wet nurse. the distinctive odor of which seemed to him worth preserving. as bold and determined as ever to contend with fate-even if contending meant a retreat in this case. and that was why Chenier must know nothing about it. many other people as well- particularly at your age. but at the same time it smelled immense and unique. ??I??m going to fill a third of this bottle with Amor and Psyche. tosses the knife aside. she took the lad by the hand and walked with him into the city. nothing else! I must have been crazy to listen to your asinine gibberish. pass it rapidly under his nose.??She stands up. He probably could not have survived anywhere else.