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It
was
possible
that
he
would
need
to
move
both
arms
more
freely
as
the
debate
progressed
,
and
he
did
n't
want
the
infant
to
be
harmed
in
the
process
.
But
for
the
present
,
he
knotted
his
hands
behind
his
back
,
shoved
his
tapering
belly
toward
the
wet
nurse
,
and
asked
sharply
,
"
You
maintain
,
then
,
that
you
know
how
a
human
child-which
may
I
remind
you
,
once
it
is
baptized
,
is
also
a
child
of
God-is
supposed
to
smell
?
""
Yes
,
"
said
the
wet
nurse
.
"
And
you
further
maintain
that
,
if
it
does
not
smell
the
way
you-you
,
the
wet
nurse
Jeanne
Bussie
from
the
rue
Saint-Denis
!
-
think
it
ought
to
smell
,
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
.
The
wet
nurse
thought
it
over
.
She
was
not
happy
that
the
conversation
had
all
at
once
turned
into
a
theological
cross-examination
,
in
which
she
could
only
be
the
loser
.
"
That
's
not
what
I
meant
to
say
,
"
she
answered
evasively
.
"
You
priests
will
have
to
decide
whether
all
this
has
anything
to
do
with
the
devil
or
not
,
Father
Terrier
.
That
's
not
for
such
as
me
to
say
.
I
only
know
one
thing
:
this
baby
makes
my
flesh
creep
because
it
does
n't
smell
the
way
children
ought
to
smell
.
""
Aha
,
"
said
Terrier
with
satisfaction
,
letting
his
arm
swing
away
again
.
"
You
retract
all
that
about
the
devil
,
do
you
?
Good
.
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
,
"
said
the
wet
nurse
.
"
What
do
you
mean
,
'
good
'
?
"
Terrier
bellowed
at
her
.
"
Lots
of
things
smell
good
.
A
bouquet
of
lavender
smells
good
.
Stew
meat
smells
good
.
The
gardens
of
Arabia
smell
good
.
But
what
does
a
baby
smell
like
,
is
what
I
want
to
know
.
"
The
wet
nurse
hesitated
.
She
knew
very
well
how
babies
smell
,
she
knew
precisely-after
all
she
had
fed
,
tended
,
cradled
,
and
kissed
dozens
of
them
...
She
could
find
them
at
night
with
her
nose
.
Why
,
right
at
that
moment
she
bore
that
baby
smell
clearly
in
her
nose
.
But
never
until
now
had
she
described
it
in
words
.
"
Well
?
"
barked
Terrier
,
clicking
his
fingernails
impatiently
.
"
Well
it
's
-
"
the
wet
nurse
began
,
"
it
's
not
all
that
easy
to
say
,
because
...
because
they
do
n't
smell
the
same
all
over
,
although
they
smell
good
ail
over
,
Father
,
you
know
what
I
mean
?
Their
feet
,
for
instance
,
they
smell
like
a
smooth
,
warm
stone-or
no
,
more
like
curds
...
or
like
butter
,
like
fresh
butter
,
that
's
it
exactly
.
They
smell
like
fresh
butter
.
And
their
bodies
smell
like
...
like
a
griddle
cake
that
's
been
soaked
in
milk
.
And
their
heads
,
up
on
top
,
at
the
back
of
the
head
,
where
the
hair
makes
a
cowlick
,
there
,
see
where
I
mean
,
Father
,
there
where
you
've
got
nothing
left
...
"
And
she
tapped
the
bald
spot
on
the
head
of
the
monk
,
who
,
struck
speechless
for
a
moment
by
this
flood
of
detailed
inanity
,
had
obediently
bent
his
head
down
.
"
There
,
right
there
,
is
where
they
smell
best
of
all
.
It
smells
like
caramel
,
it
smells
so
sweet
,
so
wonderful
,
Father
,
you
have
no
idea
!
Once
you
've
smelled
them
there
,
you
love
them
whether
they
're
your
own
or
somebody
else
's
.
And
that
's
how
little
children
have
to
smell-and
no
other
way
And
if
they
do
n't
smell
like
that
,
if
they
do
n't
have
any
smell
at
all
up
there
,
even
less
than
cold
air
does
,
like
that
little
bastard
there
,
then
...
You
can
explain
it
however
you
like
,
Father
,
but
I
"
-
and
she
crossed
her
arms
resolutely
beneath
her
bosom
and
cast
a
look
of
disgust
toward
the
basket
at
her
feet
as
if
it
contained
toads
-
"
I
,
Jeanne
Bussie
,
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
,
passed
his
finger
beneath
his
nose
as
if
by
accident
,
and
sniffed
thoughtfully
.
"
Like
caramel
...
?
"
he
asked
,
attempting
to
find
his
stern
tone
again
.
"
Caramel
!
What
do
you
know
about
caramel
?
Have
you
ever
eaten
any
?
""
Not
exactly
,
"
said
the
wet
nurae
.
"
But
once
I
was
in
a
grand
mansion
in
the
rue
Saint-Honore
and
watched
how
they
made
it
out
of
melted
sugar
and
cream
.
It
smelled
so
good
that
I
've
never
forgotten
it
.
""
Yes
,
yes
.
All
right
,
"
said
Terrier
and
took
his
finger
from
his
nose
.
"
But
please
hold
your
tongue
now
!
I
find
it
quite
exhausting
to
continue
a
conversation
with
you
on
such
a
level
.
I
have
determined
that
,
for
whatever
reason
,
you
refuse
to
nourish
any
longer
the
babe
put
under
your
care
,
Jean-Baptiste
Grenouille
,
and
are
returning
him
herewith
to
his
temporary
guardian
,
the
cloister
of
Saint-Merri
.
I
find
that
distressing
,
but
I
apparently
can
not
alter
the
fact
.
You
are
discharged
.
"
With
that
he
grabbed
the
basket
,
took
one
last
whiff
of
that
fleeting
woolly
,
warm
milkiness
,
and
slammed
the
door
.
Then
he
went
to
his
office
.
FATHER
TERRIER
was
an
educated
man
.
He
had
not
merely
studied
theology
,
but
had
read
the
philosophers
as
well
,
and
had
dabbled
with
botany
and
alchemy
on
the
side
.
He
had
a
rather
high
opinion
of
his
own
critical
faculties
.
To
be
sure
,
he
would
never
go
so
far
as
some-who
questioned
the
miracles
,
the
oracles
,
the
very
truth
of
Holy
Scripture-even
though
the
biblical
texts
could
not
,
strictly
speaking
,
be
explained
by
reason
alone
,
indeed
often
directly
contradicted
it
.
He
preferred
not
to
meddle
with
such
problems
,
they
were
too
discomfiting
for
him
and
would
only
land
him
in
the
most
agonizing
insecurity
and
disquiet
,
whereas
to
make
use
of
one
's
reason
one
truly
needed
both
security
and
quiet
.
What
he
most
vigorously
did
combat
,
however
,
were
the
superstitious
notions
of
the
simple
folk
:
witches
and
fortune-telling
cards
,
the
wearing
of
amulets
,
the
evil
eye
,
exorcisms
,
hocus-pocus
at
full
moon
,
and
all
the
other
acts
they
performed-it
was
really
quite
depressing
to
see
how
such
heathenish
customs
had
still
not
been
uprooted
a
good
thousand
years
after
the
firm
establishment
of
the
Christian
religion
!
And
most
instances
of
so-called
satanic
possession
or
pacts
with
the
devil
proved
on
closer
inspection
to
be
superstitious
mummery
.
Of
course
,
to
deny
the
existence
of
Satan
himself
,
to
doubt
his
power-Terrier
could
not
go
so
far
as
that
;
ecclesiastical
bodies
other
than
one
small
,
ordinary
monk
were
assigned
the
task
of
deciding
about
such
matters
touching
the
very
foundations
of
theology
.
But
on
the
other
hand
,
it
was
clear
as
day
that
when
a
simple
soul
like
that
wet
nurse
maintained
that
she
had
spotted
a
devilish
spirit
,
the
devil
himself
could
not
possibly
have
a
hand
in
it
.
The
very
fact
that
she
thought
she
had
spotted
him
was
certain
proof
that
there
was
nothing
devilish
to
be
found
,
for
the
devil
would
certainly
never
be
stupid
enough
to
let
himself
be
unmasked
by
the
wet
nurse
Jeanne
Bussie
.
And
with
her
nose
no
less
!
With
the
primitive
organ
of
smell
,
the
basest
of
the
senses
!
As
if
hell
smelled
of
sulfur
and
paradise
of
incense
and
myrrh
!
The
worst
sort
of
superstition
,
straight
out
of
the
darkest
days
of
paganism
,
when
people
still
lived
like
beasts
,
possessing
no
keenness
of
the
eye
,
incapable
of
distinguishing
colors
,
but
presuming
to
be
able
to
smell
blood
,
to
scent
the
difference
between
friend
and
foe
,
to
be
smelled
out
by
cannibal
giants
and
werewolves
and
the
Furies
,
all
the
while
offering
their
ghastly
gods
stinking
,
smoking
burnt
sacrifices
.
How
repulsive
!
"
The
fool
sees
with
his
nose
"
rather
than
his
eyes
,
they
say
,
and
apparently
the
light
of
God-given
reason
would
have
to
shine
yet
another
thousand
years
before
the
last
remnants
of
such
primitive
beliefs
were
banished
.
"
Ah
yes
,
and
you
poor
little
child
!
Innocent
creature
!
Lying
in
your
basket
and
slumbering
away
,
with
no
notion
of
the
ugly
suspicions
raised
against
you
.
That
impudent
woman
dared
to
claim
you
do
n't
smell
the
way
human
children
are
supposed
to
smell
.
Well
,
what
do
we
have
to
say
to
that
?
Pooh-peedooh
!
"
And
he
rocked
the
basket
gently
on
his
knees
,
stroking
the
infant
's
head
with
his
finger
and
repeating
"
poohpeedooh
"
from
time
to
time
,
an
expression
he
thought
had
a
gentle
,
soothing
effect
on
small
children
.
"
You
're
supposed
to
smell
like
caramel
,
what
nonsense
,
poohpeedooh
!
"
After
a
while
he
pulled
his
finger
back
,
held
it
under
his
nose
and
sniffed
,
but
could
smell
nothing
except
the
choucroute
he
had
eaten
at
lunch.He
hesitated
a
moment
,
looked
around
him
to
make
sure
no
one
was
watching
,
lifted
the
basket
,
lowered
his
fat
nose
into
it
.
Expecting
to
inhale
an
odor
,
he
sniffed
all
around
the
infant
's
head
,
so
close
to
it
that
the
thin
reddish
baby
hair
tickled
his
nostrils
.
He
did
not
know
exactly
how
babies
'
heads
were
supposed
to
smell
.
Certainly
not
like
caramel
,
that
much
was
clear
,
since
caramel
was
melted
sugar
,
and
how
could
a
baby
that
until
now
had
drunk
only
milk
smell
like
melted
sugar
?
It
might
smell
like
milk
,
like
wet
nurse
's
milk
.
But
it
did
n't
smell
like
milk
.
It
might
smell
like
hair
,
like
skin
and
hair
and
maybe
a
little
bit
of
baby
sweat
.
And
Terrier
sniffed
with
the
intention
of
smelling
skin
,
hair
,
and
a
little
baby
sweat
.
But
he
smelled
nothing
.
For
the
life
of
him
he
could
n't
.
Apparently
an
infant
has
no
odor
,
he
thought
,
that
must
be
it
.
An
infant
,
assuming
it
is
kept
clean
,
simply
does
n't
smell
,
any
more
than
it
speaks
,
or
walks
,
or
writes
.
Such
things
come
only
with
age
.
Strictly
speaking
,
human
beings
first
emit
an
odor
when
they
reach
puberty
.
That
's
how
it
is
,
that
's
all
Was
n't
it
Horace
himself
who
wrote
,
"
The
youth
is
gamy
as
a
buck
,
the
maiden
's
fragrance
blossoms
as
does
the
white
narcissus
...
"
?
-
and
the
Romans
knew
all
about
that
!
The
odor
of
humans
is
always
a
fleshly
odor-that
is
,
a
sinful
odor
.
How
could
an
infant
,
which
does
not
yet
know
sin
even
in
its
dreams
,
have
an
odor
?
How
could
it
smell
?
Poohpee-dooh-not
a
chance
of
it!He
had
placed
the
basket
back
on
his
knees
and
now
rocked
it
gently
.
The
babe
still
slept
soundly
.
Its
right
fist
,
small
and
red
,
stuck
out
from
under
the
cover
and
now
and
then
twitched
sweetly
against
his
cheek
.
Terrier
smiled
and
suddenly
felt
very
cozy
.
For
a
moment
he
allowed
himself
the
fantastic
thought
that
he
was
the
father
of
the
child
.
He
had
not
become
a
monk
,
but
rather
a
normal
citizen
,
an
upstanding
craftsman
perhaps
,
had
taken
a
wife
,
a
warm
wife
fragrant
with
milk
and
wool
,
and
had
produced
a
son
with
her
and
he
was
rocking
him
here
now
on
his
own
knees
,
his
own
child
,
poohpoohpoohpeedooh
...
The
thought
of
it
made
him
feel
good
.
There
was
something
so
normal
and
right
about
the
idea
.
A
father
rocking
his
son
on
his
knees
,
poohpeedooh
,
a
vision
as
old
as
the
world
itself
and
yet
always
new
and
normal
,
as
long
as
the
world
would
exist
,
ah
yes
!
Terrier
felt
his
heart
glow
with
sentimental
coziness.Then
the
child
awoke
.
Its
nose
awoke
first
.
The
tiny
nose
moved
,
pushed
upward
,
and
sniffed
.
It
sucked
air
in
and
snorted
it
back
out
in
short
puffs
,
like
an
imperfect
sneeze
.
Then
the
nose
wrinkled
up
,
and
the
child
opened
its
eyes
.
The
eyes
were
of
an
uncertain
color
,
between
oyster
gray
and
creamy
opal
white
,
covered
with
a
kind
of
slimy
film
and
apparently
not
very
well
adapted
for
sight
.
Terrier
had
the
impression
that
they
did
not
even
perceive
him
.
But
not
so
the
nose
.
While
the
child
's
dull
eyes
squinted
into
the
void
,
the
nose
seemed
to
fix
on
a
particular
target
,
and
Terrier
had
the
very
odd
feeling
that
he
himself
,
his
person
,
Father
Terrier
,
was
that
target
.
The
tiny
wings
of
flesh
around
the
two
tiny
holes
in
the
child
's
face
swelled
like
a
bud
opening
to
bloom
.
Or
rather
,
like
the
cups
of
that
small
meat-eating
plant
that
was
kept
in
the
royal
botanical
gardens
.
And
like
the
plant
,
they
seemed
to
create
an
eerie
suction
.
It
seemed
to
Terrier
as
if
the
child
saw
him
with
its
nostrils
,
as
if
it
were
staring
intently
at
him
,
scrutinizing
him
,
more
piercingly
than
eyes
could
ever
do
,
as
if
it
were
using
its
nose
to
devour
something
whole
,
something
that
came
from
him
,
from
Terrier
,
and
that
he
could
not
hold
that
something
back
or
hide
it
,
...
The
child
with
no
smell
was
smelling
at
him
shamelessly
,
that
was
it
!
It
was
establishing
his
scent
!
And
all
at
once
he
felt
as
if
he
stank
,
of
sweat
and
vinegar
,
of
choucroute
and
unwashed
clothes
.
He
felt
naked
and
ugly
,
as
if
someone
were
gaping
at
him
while
revealing
nothing
of
himself
.
The
child
seemed
to
be
smelling
right
through
his
skin
,
into
his
innards
.
His
most
tender
emotions
,
his
filthiest
thoughts
lay
exposed
to
that
greedy
little
nose
,
which
was
n't
even
a
proper
nose
,
but
only
a
pug
of
a
nose
,
a
tiny
perforated
organ
,
forever
crinkling
and
puffing
and
quivering
.
Terrier
shuddered
.
He
felt
sick
to
his
stomach
.
He
pulled
back
his
own
nose
as
if
he
smelled
something
foul
that
he
wanted
nothing
to
do
with
.
Gone
was
the
homey
thought
that
his
might
be
his
own
flesh
and
blood
.
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
.
A
strange
,
cold
creature
lay
there
on
his
knees
,
a
hostile
animal
,
and
were
he
not
a
man
by
nature
prudent
,
God-fearing
,
and
given
to
reason
,
in
the
rush
of
nausea
he
would
have
hurled
it
like
a
spider
from
him.Terrier
wrenched
himself
to
his
feet
and
set
the
basket
on
the
table
.
He
wanted
to
get
rid
of
the
thing
,
as
quickly
as
possible
,
right
away
if
possible
,
immediately
if
possible.And
then
it
began
to
wail
.
It
squinted
up
its
eyes
,
gaped
its
gullet
wide
,
and
gave
a
screech
so
repulsively
shrill
that
the
blood
in
Terrier
's
veins
congealed
.
He
shook
the
basket
with
an
outstretched
hand
and
shouted
"
Poohpeedooh
"
to
silence
the
child
,
but
it
only
bellowed
more
loudly
and
turned
completely
blue
in
the
face
and
looked
as
if
it
would
burst
from
bellowing
Away
with
it
!
thought
Terrier
,
away
this
very
instant
with
this
...
he
was
about
to
say
"
devil
,
"
but
caught
himself
and
refrained
...
away
with
this
monster
,
with
this
insufferable
child
!
But
away
where
?
He
knew
a
dozen
wet
nurses
and
orphanages
in
the
neighborhood
,
but
that
was
too
near
,
too
close
for
comfort
,
get
the
thing
farther
away
,
so
far
away
that
you
could
n't
hear
it
,
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
,
on
the
other
side
of
the
river
would
be
even
better
,
and
best
of
all
extra
mums
,
in
the
Faubourg
Saint-Antoine
,
that
was
it
!
That
was
the
place
for
this
screaming
brat
,
far
off
to
the
east
,
beyond
the
Bastille
,
where
at
night
the
city
gates
were
locked.And
he
hitched
up
his
cassock
and
grabbed
the
bellowing
basket
and
ran
off
,
ran
through
the
tangle
of
alleys
to
the
rue
du
Faubourg
Saint-Antoine
,
eastward
up
the
Seine
,
out
of
the
city
,
far
,
far
out
the
rue
de
Charonne
,
almost
to
its
very
end
,
where
at
an
address
near
the
cloister
of
Madeleine
de
Trenelle
,
he
knew
there
lived
a
certain
Madame
Gaillard
,
who
took
children
to
board
no
matter
of
what
age
or
sort
,
as
long
as
someone
paid
for
them
,
and
there
he
handed
over
the
child
,
still
screaming
,
paid
a
year
in
advance
,
and
fled
back
into
the
city
,
and
once
at
the
cloister
cast
his
clothes
from
him
as
if
they
were
foully
soiled
,
washed
himself
from
head
to
foot
,
and
crept
into
bed
in
his
cell
,
crossing
himself
repeatedly
,
praying
long
,
and
finally
with
some
relief
falling
asleep
.
