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For
months
on
,
end
he
sat
at
his
alembic
night
after
night
and
tried
every
way
he
could
think
to
distill
radically
new
scents
,
scents
that
had
never
existed
on
earth
before
in
a
concentrated
form
.
But
except
for
a
few
ridiculous
plant
oils
,
nothing
came
of
it
.
From
the
immeasurably
deep
and
fecund
well
of
his
imagination
,
he
had
pumped
not
a
single
drop
of
a
real
and
fragrant
essence
,
had
been
unable
to
realize
a
single
atom
of
his
olfactory
preoccupations.When
it
finally
became
clear
to
him
that
he
had
failed
,
he
halted
his
experiments
and
fell
mortally
ill
.
HE
CAME
DOWN
with
a
high
fever
,
which
for
the
first
few
days
was
accompanied
by
heavy
sweats
,
but
which
later
,
as
if
the
pores
of
his
skin
were
no
longer
enough
,
produced
countless
pustules
.
Grenouille
's
body
was
strewn
with
reddish
blisters
.
Many
of
them
popped
open
,
releasing
their
watery
contents
,
only
to
fill
up
again
.
Others
grew
into
true
boils
,
swelling
up
thick
and
red
and
then
erupting
like
craters
,
spewing
viscous
pus
and
blood
streaked
with
yellow
.
In
time
,
with
his
hundreds
of
ulcerous
wounds
,
Grenouille
looked
like
some
martyr
stoned
from
the
inside
out
.
Naturally
,
Baldini
was
worried
.
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
.
For
increasingly
,
orders
for
those
innovative
scents
that
Paris
was
so
crazy
about
were
indeed
coming
not
only
from
the
provinces
but
also
from
foreign
courts
.
And
Baldini
was
playing
with
the
idea
of
taking
care
of
these
orders
by
opening
a
branch
in
the
Faubourg
Saint-Antoine
,
virtually
a
small
factory
,
where
the
fastest-moving
scents
could
be
mixed
in
quantity
and
bottled
in
quantity
in
smart
little
flacons
,
packed
by
smart
little
girls
,
and
sent
off
to
Holland
,
England
,
and
Greater
Germany
.
Such
an
enterprise
was
not
exactly
legal
for
a
master
perfumer
residing
in
Paris
,
but
Baldini
had
recently
gained
the
protection
of
people
in
high
places
;
his
exquisite
scents
had
done
that
for
him-not
just
with
the
commissary
,
but
also
with
such
important
personages
as
the
gentleman
holding
the
franchise
for
the
Paris
customs
office
or
with
a
member
of
the
Conseii
Royal
des
Finances
and
promoter
of
flourishing
commercial
undertakings
like
Monsieur
Feydeau
de
Brou
.
The
latter
had
even
held
out
the
prospect
of
a
royal
patent
,
truly
the
best
thing
that
one
could
hope
for
,
a
kind
of
carte
blanche
for
circumventing
all
civil
and
professional
restrictions
;
it
meant
the
end
of
all
business
worries
and
the
guarantee
of
secure
,
permanent
,
unassailable
prosperity.And
Baldini
was
carrying
yet
another
plan
under
his
heart
,
his
favorite
plan
,
a
sort
of
counterplan
to
the
factory
in
the
Faubourg
Saint-Antoine
,
where
his
wares
,
though
not
mass
produced
,
would
be
made
available
to
anyone
.
But
for
a
selected
number
of
well-placed
,
highly
placed
clients
,
he
wanted
to
create
-
or
rather
,
have
created-personal
perfumes
that
would
fit
only
their
wearer
,
like
tailored
clothes
,
would
be
used
only
by
the
wearer
,
and
would
bear
his
or
her
illustrious
name
.
He
could
imagine
a
Parfum
de
la
Marquise
de
Cernay
,
a
Parfum
de
la
Marechale
de
Villar
,
a
Parfum
du
Due
d'Aiguillon
,
and
so
on
.
He
dreamed
of
a
Parfum
de
Madame
la
Marquise
de
Pompadour
,
even
of
a
Parfum
de
Sa
Majeste
le
Roi
,
in
a
flacon
of
costliest
cut
agate
with
a
holder
of
chased
gold
and
,
hidden
on
the
inside
of
the
base
,
the
engraved
words
:
"
Giuseppe
Baldini
,
Parfumeur
.
"
The
king
's
name
and
his
own
,
both
on
the
same
object
.
To
such
glorious
heights
had
Baldini
's
ideas
risen
!
And
now
Grenouille
had
fallen
ill
.
Even
though
Grimal
,
might
he
rest
in
peace
,
had
sworn
there
had
never
been
anything
wrong
with
him
,
that
he
could
stand
up
to
anything
,
had
even
put
the
black
plague
behind
him
.
And
here
he
had
gone
and
fallen
ill
,
mortally
ill
.
What
if
he
were
to
die
?
Dreadful
!
For
with
him
would
die
the
splendid
plans
for
the
factory
,
for
the
smart
little
girls
,
for
the
patent
,
and
for
the
king
's
perfume.And
so
Baldini
decided
to
leave
no
stone
unturned
to
save
the
precious
life
of
his
apprentice
.
He
ordered
him
moved
from
his
bunk
in
the
laboratory
to
a
clean
bed
on
the
top
floor
.
He
had
the
bed
made
up
with
damask
.
He
helped
bear
the
patient
up
the
narrow
stairway
with
his
own
hands
,
despite
his
unutterable
disgust
at
the
pustules
and
festering
boils
.
He
ordered
his
wife
to
heat
chicken
broth
and
wine
.
He
sent
for
the
most
renowned
physician
in
the
neighborhood
,
a
certain
Procope
,
who
demanded
payment
in
advance
-
twenty
francs
!
-
before
he
would
even
bother
to
pay
a
call.The
doctor
come
,
lifted
up
the
sheet
with
dainty
fingers
,
took
one
look
at
Grenouille
's
body
,
which
truly
looked
as
if
it
had
been
riddled
with
hundreds
of
bullets
,
and
left
the
room
without
ever
having
opened
the
bag
that
his
attendant
always
carried
about
with
him
.
The
case
,
so
began
his
report
to
Baldini
,
was
quite
clear
.
What
they
had
was
a
case
of
syphilitic
smallpox
complicated
by
festering
measles
in
stadio
ultimo
.
No
treatment
was
called
for
,
since
a
lancet
for
bleeding
could
not
be
properly
inserted
into
the
deteriorating
body
,
which
was
more
like
a
corpse
than
a
living
organism
.
And
although
the
characteristic
pestilential
stench
associated
with
the
illness
was
not
yet
noticeable-an
amazing
detail
and
a
minor
curiosity
from
a
strictly
scientific
point
of
view-there
could
not
be
the
least
doubt
of
the
patient
's
demise
within
the
next
forty-eight
hours
,
as
surely
as
his
name
was
Doctor
Procope
.
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.Baldini
was
beside
himself
.
He
wailed
and
lamented
in
despair
.
He
bit
his
fingers
,
raging
at
his
fate
.
Once
again
,
just
before
reaching
his
goal
,
his
grand
,
very
grand
plans
had
been
thwarted
.
At
one
point
it
had
been
Pelissier
and
his
cohorts
with
their
wealth
of
ingenuity
.
Now
it
was
this
boy
with
his
inexhaustible
store
of
new
scents
,
this
scruffy
brat
who
was
worth
more
than
his
weight
in
gold
,
who
had
decided
now
of
all
times
to
come
down
with
syphilitic
smallpox
and
festering
measles
in
stadio
ultimo
.
Now
of
all
times
!
Why
not
two
years
from
now
?
Why
not
one
?
By
then
he
could
have
been
plundered
like
a
silver
mine
,
like
a
golden
ass
.
He
could
have
gone
ahead
and
died
next
year
.
But
no
!
He
was
dying
now
,
God
damn
it
all
,
within
forty-eight
hours!For
a
brief
moment
,
Baldini
considered
the
idea
of
a
pilgrimage
to
Notre-Dame
,
where
he
would
light
a
candle
and
plead
with
the
Mother
of
God
for
Gre-nouille
's
recovery
.
But
he
let
the
idea
go
,
for
matters
were
too
pressing
.
He
ran
to
get
paper
and
ink
,
then
shooed
his
wife
out
of
the
sickroom
.
He
was
going
to
keep
watch
himself
.
Then
he
sat
down
in
a
chair
next
to
the
bed
,
his
notepaper
on
his
knees
,
the
pen
wet
with
ink
in
his
hand
,
and
attempted
to
take
Gre-nouille
's
perfumatory
confession
.
For
God
's
sake
,
he
dare
not
slip
away
without
a
word
,
taking
along
the
treasures
he
bore
inside
him
.
Would
he
not
in
these
last
hours
leave
a
testament
behind
in
faithful
hands
,
so
that
posterity
would
not
be
deprived
of
the
finest
scents
of
all
time
?
He
,
Baldini
,
would
faithfully
administer
that
testament
,
the
canon
of
formulas
for
the
most
sublime
scents
ever
smelled
,
would
bring
them
all
to
full
bloom
.
He
would
attach
undying
fame
to
Grenouille
's
name
,
he
would-yes
,
he
swore
it
by
everything
holy-lay
the
best
of
these
scents
at
the
feet
of
the
king
,
in
an
agate
flacon
with
gold
chasing
and
the
engraved
dedication
,
"
From
Jean-Baptiste
Grenouille
,
Parfumeur
,
Paris
.
"
So
spoke-or
better
,
whispered-Baldini
into
Grenouille
's
ear
,
unremittingly
beseeching
,
pleading
,
wheedling.But
all
in
vain
.
Grenouille
yielded
nothing
except
watery
secretions
and
bloody
pus
.
He
lay
there
mute
in
his
damask
and
parted
with
those
disgusting
fluids
,
but
not
with
his
treasures
,
his
knowledge
,
not
a
single
formula
for
a
scent
.
Baldini
would
have
loved
to
throttle
him
,
to
club
him
to
death
,
to
beat
those
precious
secrets
out
of
that
moribund
body
,
had
there
been
any
chance
of
success
...
and
had
it
not
so
blatantly
contradicted
his
understanding
of
a
Christian
's
love
for
his
neighbor.And
so
he
went
on
purring
and
crooning
in
his
sweetest
tones
,
and
coddled
his
patient
,
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
,
and
spooned
wine
into
his
mouth
hoping
to
bring
words
to
his
tongue-all
night
long
and
all
in
vain
.
In
the
gray
of
dawn
he
gave
up
.
He
fell
exhausted
into
an
armchair
at
the
far
end
of
the
room
and
stared-no
longer
in
rage
,
really
,
but
merely
yielding
to
silent
resignation-at
Grenouille
's
small
dying
body
there
in
the
bed
,
whom
he
could
neither
save
nor
rob
,
nor
from
whom
he
could
salvage
anything
else
for
himself
,
whose
death
he
could
only
witness
numbly
,
like
a
captain
watching
his
ship
sink
,
taking
all
his
wealth
with
it
into
the
depths.And
then
all
at
once
the
lips
of
the
dying
boy
opened
,
and
in
a
voice
whose
clarity
and
firmness
betrayed
next
to
nothing
of
his
immediate
demise
,
he
spoke
.
"
Tell
me
,
maftre
,
are
there
other
ways
to
extract
the
scent
from
things
besides
pressing
or
distilling
?
"
Baldini
,
believing
the
voice
had
come
either
from
his
own
imagination
or
from
the
next
world
,
answered
mechanically
,
"
Yes
,
there
are
.
""
What
are
they
?
"
came
the
question
from
the
bed
.
And
Baldini
opened
his
tired
eyes
wide
.
Grenouille
lay
there
motionless
among
his
pillows
Had
the
corpse
spoken
?
"
What
are
they
?
"
came
the
renewed
question
,
and
this
time
Baldini
noticed
Grenouille
's
lips
move
.
It
's
over
now
,
he
thought
.
This
is
the
end
,
this
is
the
madness
of
fever
or
the
throes
of
death
.
And
he
stood
up
,
went
over
to
the
bed
,
and
bent
down
to
the
sick
man
.
His
eyes
were
open
and
he
gazed
up
at
Baldini
with
the
same
strange
,
lurking
look
that
he
had
fixed
on
him
at
their
first
meeting
.
"
What
are
they
?
"
he
asked.Baldini
felt
a
pang
in
his
heart-he
could
not
deny
a
dying
man
his
last
wish-and
he
answered
,
"
There
are
three
other
ways
,
my
son
:
enfleurage
it
chaud
,
enfleurage
a
froid
,
and
enfleurage
a
I
'
huile
.
They
are
superior
to
distillation
in
several
ways
,
and
they
are
used
for
extraction
of
the
finest
of
all
scents
:
jasmine
,
rose
,
and
orange
blossom
.
""
Where
?
"
asked
Grenouille
.
"
In
the
south
,
"
answered
Baldini
.
"
Above
all
,
in
the
town
of
Grasse
.
""
Good
,
"
said
Grenouille.And
with
that
he
closed
his
eyes
.
Baldini
raised
himself
up
slowly
.
He
was
very
depressed
.
He
gathered
up
his
notepaper
,
on
which
he
had
not
written
a
single
line
,
and
blew
out
the
candle
.
Day
was
dawning
already
.
He
was
dead
tired
.
One
ought
to
have
sent
for
a
priest
,
he
thought
.
Then
he
made
a
hasty
sign
of
the
cross
with
his
right
hand
and
left
the
room.Grenouille
was
,
however
,
anything
but
dead
.
He
was
only
sleeping
very
soundly
,
deep
in
dreams
,
sucking
fluids
back
into
himself
.
The
blisters
were
already
beginning
to
dry
out
on
his
skin
,
the
craters
of
pus
had
begun
to
drain
,
the
wounds
to
close
.
Within
a
week
he
was
well
again
.
HE
WOULD
HAVE
loved
then
and
there
to
have
left
for
the
south
,
where
he
could
learn
the
new
techniques
the
old
man
had
told
him
about
.
But
that
was
of
course
out
of
the
question
.
He
was
after
all
only
an
apprentice
,
which
was
to
say
,
a
nobody
.
Strictly
speaking
,
as
Baldini
explained
to
him-this
was
after
he
had
overcome
his
initial
joy
at
Grenouille
's
resurrection-strictly
speaking
,
he
was
less
than
a
nobody
,
since
a
proper
apprentice
needed
to
be
of
faultless
,
i.e.
,
legitimate
,
birth
,
to
have
relatives
of
like
standing
,
and
to
have
a
certificate
of
indenture
,
all
of
which
he
lacked
.
Should
he
,
Baldini
,
nevertheless
decide
one
day
to
help
him
obtain
his
journeyman
's
papers
,
that
would
happen
only
on
the
basis
of
Grenouille
's
uncommon
talents
,
his
faultless
behavior
from
then
on
,
and
his
,
Baldini
's
,
own
infinite
kindness
,
which
,
though
it
often
had
worked
to
his
own
disadvantage
,
he
would
forever
be
incapable
of
denying.To
be
sure
,
it
was
a
good
while
before
he
fulfilled
his
promised
kindness-just
a
little
under
three
years.During
that
period
and
with
Grenouille
's
help
,
Baldini
realized
his
high-flying
dreams
.
He
built
his
factory
in
the
Faubourg
Saint-Antoine
,
succeeded
in
his
scheme
for
exclusive
perfumes
at
court
,
received
a
royal
patent
.
His
fine
fragrances
were
sold
as
far
off
as
St.
Petersburg
,
as
Palermo
,
as
Copenhagen
.
A
musk-impregnated
item
was
much
sought
after
even
in
Constantinople
,
where
God
knows
they
already
had
enough
scents
of
their
own
.
Baldini
's
perfumes
could
be
smelled
both
in
elegant
offices
in
the
City
of
London
and
at
the
court
in
Parma
,
both
in
the
royal
castle
at
Warsaw
and
in
the
little
Schloss
of
the
Graf
von
und
zu
Lippe-Detmold
.
Having
reconciled
himself
to
living
out
his
old
age
in
bitterest
poverty
near
Messina
,
Baldini
was
now
at
age
seventy
indisputably
Europe
's
greatest
perfumer
and
one
of
the
richest
citizens
of
Paris.Early
in
1756-he
had
in
the
meantime
acquired
the
adjoining
building
on
the
Pont-au-Change
,
using
it
solely
as
a
residence
,
since
the
old
building
was
literally
stuffed
full
to
the
attic
with
scents
and
spices-he
informed
Grenouille
that
he
was
now
willing
to
release
him
,
but
only
on
three
conditions
:
first
,
he
would
not
be
allowed
to
produce
in
the
future
any
of
the
perfumes
now
under
Baldini
's
roof
,
nor
sell
their
formulas
to
third
parties
;
second
,
he
must
leave
Paris
and
not
enter
it
again
for
as
long
as
Baldini
lived
;
and
third
,
he
was
to
keep
the
first
two
conditions
absolutely
secret
.
He
was
to
swear
to
this
by
all
the
saints
,
by
the
poor
soul
of
his
mother
,
and
on
his
own
honor.Grenouille
,
who
neither
had
any
honor
nor
believed
in
any
saints
or
in
the
poor
soul
of
his
mother
,
swore
it
.
He
would
have
sworn
to
anything
.
He
would
have
accepted
any
condition
Baldini
might
propose
,
because
he
wanted
those
silly
journeyman
's
papers
that
would
make
it
possible
for
him
to
live
an
inconspicuous
life
,
to
travel
undisturbed
,
and
to
find
a
job
.
Everything
else
was
unimportant
to
him
.
