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Just
as
with
maceration
,
after
only
a
brief
time
he
had
likewise
surpassed
his
tutor
Druot
in
the
art
of
cold
perfumery-and
had
made
this
clear
to
him
in
the
approved
,
discreet
,
and
groveling
fashion
.
Druot
gladly
left
it
to
him
to
go
to
the
slaughterhouse
and
buy
the
most
suitable
fats
,
to
purify
and
render
them
,
to
filter
them
and
adjust
their
proportions-a
terribly
difficult
task
that
Druot
himself
was
always
skittish
about
performing
,
since
an
adulterated
or
rancid
fat
,
or
one
that
smelled
too
much
of
pig
,
sheep
,
or
cow
,
could
ruin
the
most
expensive
pomade
.
He
let
Gre-nouille
decide
how
to
arrange
the
oiled
plates
in
the
impregnating
room
,
when
to
rotate
the
blossoms
,
and
whether
the
pomade
was
sufficiently
impregnated
.
Druot
soon
let
Grenouille
make
all
the
delicate
decisions
that
he
,
just
as
Baldini
before
him
,
could
only
approximate
with
rules
of
thumb
,
but
which
Grenouille
made
by
employing
the
wisdom
of
his
nose
--
something
Druot
,
of
course
,
did
not
suspect
.
"
He
's
got
a
fine
touch
,
"
said
Druot
.
"
He
's
got
a
good
feel
for
things
.
"
And
sometimes
he
also
thought
:
Really
and
truly
,
he
is
more
talented
than
me
,
a
hundred
times
a
better
perfumer
.
And
all
the
while
he
considered
him
to
be
a
total
nitwit
,
because
Grenouille-or
so
he
believed-did
not
cash
in
at
all
on
his
talent
,
whereas
he
,
Druot
,
even
with
his
more
modest
gifts
,
would
soon
become
a
master
perfumer
.
And
Grenouilie
encouraged
him
in
this
opinion
,
displaying
doltish
drudgery
and
not
a
hint
of
ambition
,
acting
as
if
he
comprehended
nothing
of
his
own
genius
and
were
merely
executing
the
orders
of
the
more
experienced
Druot
,
without
whom
he
would
be
a
cipher
.
After
their
fashion
,
they
got
along
quite
well.Then
came
autumn
and
winter
.
Things
were
quieter
in
the
workshop
.
The
floral
scents
lay
captive
in
their
crocks
and
flacons
in
the
cellar
,
and
if
Madame
did
not
wish
some
pomade
or
other
to
be
washed
or
for
a
sack
of
dried
spices
to
be
distilled
,
there
was
not
all
that
much
to
do
.
There
were
still
the
olives
,
a
couple
of
basketfuls
every
week
.
They
pressed
the
virgin
oil
from
them
and
put
what
was
left
through
the
oil
mill.And
wine
,
some
of
which
Grenouille
distilled
to
rectified
spirit.Druot
made
himself
more
and
more
scarce
.
He
did
his
duty
in
Madame
's
bed
,
and
when
he
did
appear
,
stinking
of
sweat
and
semen
,
it
was
only
to
head
off
at
once
for
the
Quatre
Dauphins
.
Nor
did
Madame
come
downstairs
often
.
She
was
busy
with
her
investments
and
with
converting
her
wardrobe
for
the
period
that
would
follow
her
year
of
mourning
.
For
days
,
Grenouille
might
often
see
no
one
except
the
maid
who
fixed
his
midday
soup
and
his
evening
bread
and
olives
.
He
hardly
went
out
at
all
.
He
took
part
in
corporate
life-in
the
regular
meetings
and
processions
of
the
journeymen-only
just
often
enough
as
to
be
conspicuous
neither
by
his
absence
nor
by
his
presence
.
He
had
no
friends
or
close
acquaintances
,
but
took
careful
pains
not
to
be
considered
arrogant
or
a
misfit
He
left
it
to
the
other
journeymen
to
find
his
society
dull
and
unprofitable
.
He
was
a
master
in
the
art
of
spreading
boredom
and
playing
the
clumsy
fool-though
never
so
egregiously
that
people
might
enjoy
making
fun
of
him
or
use
him
as
the
butt
of
some
crude
practical
joke
inside
the
guild
.
He
succeeded
in
being
considered
totally
uninteresting
.
People
left
him
alone
.
And
that
was
all
he
wanted
.
HE
SPENT
HIS
time
in
the
workshop
.
He
explained
to
Druot
that
he
was
trying
to
invent
a
formula
for
a
new
cologne
.
In
reality
,
however
,
he
was
experimenting
with
scents
of
a
very
different
sort
.
Although
he
had
used
it
very
sparingly
,
the
perfume
that
he
had
mixed
in
Montpellier
was
slowly
running
out
.
He
created
a
new
one
.
But
this
time
he
was
not
content
simply
to
imitate
basic
human
odor
by
hastily
tossing
together
some
ingredients
;
he
made
it
a
matter
of
pride
to
acquire
a
personal
odor
,
or
better
yet
,
a
number
of
personal
odors.First
he
made
an
odor
for
inconspicuousness
,
a
mousy
,
workaday
outfit
of
odors
with
the
sour
,
cheesy
smell
of
humankind
still
present
,
but
only
as
if
exuded
into
the
outside
world
through
a
layer
of
linen
and
wool
garments
covering
an
old
man
's
dry
skin
.
Bearing
this
smell
,
he
could
move
easily
among
people
.
The
perfume
was
robust
enough
to
establish
the
olfactory
existence
of
a
human
being
,
but
at
the
same
time
so
discreet
that
it
bothered
no
one
.
Using
it
,
Grenouille
was
not
actually
present
,
and
yet
his
presence
was
justified
in
the
most
modest
sort
of
way-a
bastard
state
that
was
very
handy
both
in
the
Arnulfi
household
and
on
his
occasional
outings
in
the
town.On
certain
occasions
,
to
be
sure
,
this
modest
scent
proved
inconvenient
.
When
he
had
errands
to
run
for
Druot
or
wanted
to
buy
his
own
civet
or
a
few
musk
pods
from
a
merchant
,
he
might
prove
to
be
so
perfectly
inconspicuous
that
he
was
either
ignored
and
no
one
waited
on
him
,
or
was
given
the
wrong
item
or
forgotten
while
being
waited
on
.
For
such
occasions
he
had
blended
a
somewhat
more
redolent
,
slightly
sweaty
perfume
,
one
with
a
few
olfactory
edges
and
hooks
,
that
lent
him
a
coarser
appearance
and
made
people
believe
he
was
in
hurry
and
on
urgent
business
.
He
also
had
good
success
with
a
deceptive
imitation
of
Druot
's
aura
seminalis
,
which
he
learned
to
produce
by
impregnating
a
piece
of
oily
linen
with
a
paste
of
fresh
duck
eggs
and
fermented
wheat
flour
and
used
whenever
he
needed
to
arouse
a
certain
amount
of
notice.Another
perfume
in
his
arsenal
was
a
scent
for
arousing
sympathy
that
proved
effective
with
middle-aged
and
elderly
women
.
It
smelled
of
watery
milk
and
fresh
,
soft
wood
.
The
effect
Grenouille
created
with
it-even
when
he
went
out
unshaved
,
scowling
,
and
wrapped
in
a
heavy
coat-was
of
a
poor
,
pale
lad
in
a
frayed
jacket
who
simply
had
to
be
helped
.
Once
they
caught
a
whiff
of
him
,
the
market
women
filled
his
pockets
with
nuts
and
dried
pears
because
he
seemed
to
them
so
hungry
and
helpless
.
And
the
butcher
's
wife
,
an
implacably
callous
old
hag
if
there
ever
was
one
,
let
him
pick
out
,
for
free
,
smelly
old
scraps
of
meat
and
bone
,
for
his
odor
of
innocence
touched
her
mother
's
heart
.
He
then
took
these
scraps
,
digested
them
directly
in
alcohol
,
and
used
them
as
the
main
component
for
an
odor
that
he
applied
when
he
wanted
to
be
avoided
and
left
completely
alone
.
It
surrounded
him
with
a
slightly
nauseating
aura
,
like
the
rancid
breath
of
an
old
slattern
's
mouth
when
she
awakens
.
It
was
so
effective
that
even
Druot
,
hardly
a
squeamish
sort
,
would
automatically
turn
aside
and
go
in
search
of
fresh
air
,
without
any
clear
knowledge
,
of
course
,
of
what
had
actually
driven
him
away
.
And
sprinkling
a
few
drops
of
the
repellent
on
the
threshold
of
his
cabin
was
enough
to
keep
every
intruder
,
human
or
animal
,
at
a
distance.Protected
by
these
various
odors
,
which
he
changed
like
clothes
as
the
situation
demanded
and
which
permitted
him
to
move
undisturbed
in
the
world
of
men
and
to
keep
his
true
nature
from
them
,
Gre-nouille
devoted
himself
to
his
real
passion
:
the
subtle
pursuit
of
scent
.
And
because
he
had
a
great
goal
right
under
his
nose
and
over
a
year
still
left
to
him
,
he
not
only
went
about
the
task
with
burning
zeal
,
but
he
also
systematically
planned
how
to
sharpen
his
weapons
,
polish
his
techniques
,
and
gradually
perfect
his
methods
.
He
began
where
he
had
left
off
at
Baldini
's
,
with
extracting
the
scent
from
inert
objects
:
stone
,
metal
,
glass
,
wood
,
salt
,
water
,
air
...
What
before
had
failed
so
miserably
using
the
crude
process
of
distillation
succeeded
now
,
thanks
to
the
strong
absorptive
powers
of
oil
.
Grenouille
took
a
brass
doorknob
,
whose
cool
,
musty
,
brawny
smell
he
liked
,
and
wrapped
it
in
beef
tallow
for
a
few
days
.
And
sure
enough
,
when
he
peeled
off
the
tallow
and
examined
it
,
it
smelled
quite
clearly
like
the
doorknob
,
though
very
faintly
.
And
even
after
a
lavage
in
alcohol
,
the
odor
was
still
there
,
infinitely
delicate
,
distant
,
overshadowed
by
the
vapor
of
the
spirits
,
and
in
this
world
probably
perceptible
only
to
Gre-nouille
's
nose-but
it
was
certainly
there
.
And
that
meant
,
in
principle
at
least
,
at
his
disposal
.
If
he
had
ten
thousand
doorknobs
and
wrapped
them
in
tallow
for
a
thousand
days
,
he
could
produce
a
tiny
drop
of
brass-doorknob
essence
absolue
strong
enough
for
anyone
to
have
the
indisputable
illusion
of
the
original
under
his
nose.He
likewise
succeeded
with
the
porous
chalky
dust
from
a
stone
he
found
in
the
olive
grove
before
his
cabin
.
He
macerated
it
and
extracted
a
dollop
of
stone
pomade
,
whose
infinitesimal
odor
gave
him
indescribable
delight
.
He
combined
it
with
other
odors
taken
from
ail
kinds
of
objects
lying
around
his
cabin
,
and
painstakingly
reproduced
a
miniature
olfactory
model
of
the
olive
grove
behind
the
Franciscan
cloister
.
Carrying
it
about
with
him
bottled
up
in
a
tiny
flacon
,
he
could
resurrect
the
grove
whenever
he
felt
like
it.These
were
virtuoso
odors
,
executed
as
wonderful
little
trifles
that
of
course
no
one
but
he
could
admire
or
would
ever
take
note
of
.
He
was
enchanted
by
their
meaningless
perfection
;
and
at
no
time
in
his
life
,
either
before
or
after
,
were
there
moments
of
such
truly
innocent
happiness
as
in
those
days
when
he
playfully
and
eagerly
set
about
creating
fragrant
landscapes
,
still
lifes
,
and
studies
of
individual
objects
.
For
he
soon
moved
on
to
living
subjects.He
hunted
for
winter
flies
,
for
maggots
,
rats
,
small
cats
,
and
drowned
them
in
warm
oil
.
At
night
he
crept
into
stalls
to
drape
cows
,
goats
,
and
piglets
for
a
few
hours
in
cloths
smeared
with
oil
or
to
wrap
them
in
greasy
bandages
.
Or
he
sneaked
into
sheepfolds
and
stealthily
sheared
a
lamb
and
then
washed
the
redolent
wool
in
rectified
spirit
.
At
first
the
results
were
not
very
satisfactory
.
For
in
contrast
to
the
patient
things
,
doorknobs
and
stones
,
animals
yielded
up
their
odor
only
under
protest
.
The
pigs
scraped
off
the
bandages
by
rubbing
against
the
posts
of
their
sties
.
The
sheep
bleated
when
he
approached
them
by
night
with
a
knife
.
The
cows
obstinately
shook
the
greasy
cloths
from
their
udders
.
Some
of
the
beetles
that
he
caught
gave
off
foully
stinking
secretions
while
he
was
trying
to
work
with
them
,
and
the
rats
,
probably
out
of
fear
,
would
shit
in
the
olfactorily
sensitive
pomades
.
Unlike
flowers
,
the
animals
he
tried
to
macerate
would
not
yield
up
their
scent
without
complaints
or
with
only
a
mute
sigh-they
fought
desperately
against
death
,
absolutely
did
not
want
to
be
stirred
under
,
but
kicked
and
struggled
,
and
in
their
fear
of
death
created
large
quantities
of
sweat
whose
acidity
ruined
the
warm
oil
.
You
could
not
,
of
course
,
do
sound
work
under
such
conditions
.
The
objects
would
have
to
be
quieted
down
,
and
so
suddenly
that
they
would
have
no
time
to
become
afraid
or
to
resist
.
He
would
have
to
kill
them.He
first
tried
it
with
a
puppy
.
He
enticed
it
away
from
its
mother
with
a
piece
of
meat
,
all
the
way
from
the
slaughterhouse
to
the
laboratory
,
and
as
the
animal
panted
excitedly
and
lunged
joyfully
for
the
meat
in
Grenouille
's
left
hand
,
he
gave
one
quick
,
hard
blow
to
the
back
of
its
head
with
a
piece
of
wood
he
held
in
his
right
.
Death
descended
on
the
puppy
so
suddenly
that
the
expression
of
happiness
was
still
on
its
mouth
and
in
its
eyes
long
after
Grenouille
had
bedded
it
down
in
the
impregnating
room
on
a
grate
between
two
greased
plates
,
where
it
exuded
its
pure
doggy
scent
,
unadulterated
by
the
sweat
of
fear
.
To
be
sure
,
one
had
to
be
careful
!
Carcasses
,
just
as
plucked
blossoms
,
spoiled
quickly
.
And
so
Grenouille
stood
guard
over
his
victim
,
for
about
twelve
hours
,
until
he
noticed
that
the
first
wisps
of
carrion
scent-not
really
unpleasant
,
but
adulterating
nevertheless-rose
up
from
the
dog
's
body
.
He
stopped
the
enfleurage
at
once
,
got
rid
of
the
carcass
,
and
put
the
impregnated
oil
in
a
pot
,
where
he
carefully
rinsed
it
.
He
distilled
the
alcohol
down
to
about
a
thimbleful
and
filled
a
tiny
glass
tube
with
these
few
remaining
drops
.
The
perfume
smelled
clearly
of
dog-moist
,
fresh
,
tallowy
,
and
a
bit
pungent
.
It
smelled
amazingly
like
dog
.
And
when
Grenouille
let
the
old
bitch
at
the
slaughterhouse
sniff
at
it
,
she
broke
out
in
yelps
of
joy
and
whimpered
and
would
not
take
her
nose
out
of
the
glass
tube
.
Grenouille
closed
it
up
tight
and
put
it
in
his
pocket
and
bore
it
with
him
for
a
long
time
as
a
souvenir
of
his
day
of
triumph
,
when
for
the
first
time
he
had
succeeded
in
robbing
a
living
creature
of
its
aromatic
soul.Then
,
very
gradually
and
with
utmost
caution
,
he
went
to
work
on
human
beings
.
At
first
he
stalked
them
from
a
safe
distance
with
a
wide-meshed
net
,
for
he
was
less
concerned
with
bagging
large
game
than
with
testing
his
hunting
methods
.
Disguised
by
his
faint
perfume
for
inconspicuous-ness
,
he
mingjed
with
the
evening
's
guests
at
the
Quatre
Dauphins
inn
and
stuck
tiny
scraps
of
cloth
drenched
in
oil
and
grease
under
the
benches
and
tables
and
in
hidden
nooks
.
A
few
days
later
he
collected
them
and
put
them
to
the
test
.
And
indeed
,
along
with
all
sorts
of
kitchen
odors
,
tobacco
smoke
,
and
wine
smells
,
they
exhaled
a
little
human
odor
.
But
it
remained
very
vague
and
masked
,
was
more
the
suggestion
of
general
exhalations
than
a
personal
odor
.
A
similar
mass
aura
,
though
purer
and
more
sublimely
sweaty
,
could
be
gleaned
from
the
cathedral
,
where
on
December
24
Grenouille
hung
his
experimental
flags
under
the
pews
and
gathered
them
in
again
on
the
twenty-sixth
,
after
no
less
than
seven
masses
had
been
sat
through
just
above
them
.
A
ghastly
conglomerate
of
odor
was
reproduced
on
the
impregnated
swatches
:
anal
sweat
,
menstrual
blood
,
moist
hollows
of
knees
,
and
clenched
hands
,
mixed
with
the
exhaled
breath
of
thousands
of
hymn-singing
and
Ave
Maria-mumbling
throats
and
the
oppressive
fumes
of
incense
and
myrrh
.
A
horrible
concentration
of
nebulous
,
amorphous
,
nauseating
odors
--
and
yet
unmistakably
human.Grenouille
garnered
his
first
individual
odor
in
the
Hopital
de
la
Charite
"
.
He
managed
to
pilfer
sheets
that
were
supposed
to
be
burned
because
the
journeyman
sackmaker
who
had
lain
wrapped
in
them
for
two
months
had
just
died
of
consumption
.
The
cloth
was
so
drenched
in
the
exudations
of
the
sackmaker
that
it
had
absorbed
them
like
an
enfleurage
paste
and
could
be
directly
subjected
to
lavage
.
