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From
time
to
time
you
had
to
tend
the
fire
,
pour
in
more
distilling
water
,
change
Florentine
flasks
,
replace
the
exhausted
stuff
you
were
distilling
.
And
yet
it
had
always
seemed
to
him
that
you
stayed
awake
not
so
that
you
could
take
care
of
these
occasional
tasks
,
but
because
being
awake
had
its
own
unique
purpose
.
Even
here
in
this
bedchamber
,
where
the
process
of
enfleurage
was
proceeding
all
on
its
own
,
where
in
fact
premature
checking
,
turning
,
or
poking
the
fragrant
package
could
only
cause
trouble-even
here
,
it
seemed
to
Grenouille
,
his
waking
presence
was
important
.
Sleep
would
have
endangered
the
spirit
of
success.It
was
not
especially
difficult
for
him
to
stay
awake
and
wait
,
despite
his
weariness
.
He
loved
this
waiting
.
He
had
also
loved
it
with
the
twenty-four
other
girls
,
for
it
was
aot
a
dull
waiting-till-it
's
-
over
,
not
even
a
yearning
,
expectant
waiting
,
but
an
attendant
,
purposeful
,
in
a
certain
sense
active
,
waiting
.
Something
was
happening
while
you
waited
.
The
most
essential
thing
was
happening
.
And
even
if
he
himself
was
doing
nothing
,
it
was
happening
through
him
nevertheless
.
He
had
done
his
best
.
He
had
employed
all
his
artistic
skill
.
He
had
made
not
one
single
mistake
.
His
performance
had
been
unique
.
It
would
be
crowned
with
success
...
He
need
only
wait
a
few
more
hours
.
It
filled
him
with
profound
satisfaction
,
this
waiting
.
He
had
never
felt
so
fine
in
all
his
life
,
so
peaceful
,
so
steady
,
so
whole
and
at
one
with
himself-not
even
back
inside
his
mountain-as
during
these
hours
when
a
craftsman
took
his
rest
sitting
in
the
dark
of
night
beside
his
victim
,
waiting
and
watching
.
They
were
the
only
moments
when
something
like
cheerful
thoughts
formed
inside
his
gloomy
brain.Strangely
enough
,
these
thoughts
did
not
look
toward
the
future
.
He
did
not
think
of
the
scent
that
he
would
glean
in
a
few
hours
,
nor
of
the
perfume
made
of
the
auras
of
twenty-five
maidens
,
nor
of
future
plans
,
happiness
,
and
success
.
No
,
he
thought
of
his
past
.
He
remembered
the
stations
of
his
life
,
from
Madame
Gaillard
's
house
and
the
moist
,
warm
woodpile
in
front
of
it
to
his
journey
today
to
the
little
village
of
La
Napoule
,
which
smelled
like
fish
.
He
thought
of
Grimal
the
tanner
,
of
Giuseppe
Baldini
,
of
the
marquis
de
La
Taillade-Espinasse
.
He
thought
of
the
city
of
Paris
,
of
its
great
effluvium
,
that
evil
smell
of
a
thousand
iridescences
;
he
thought
of
the
redheaded
girl
in
the
rue
des
Marais
,
of
open
country
,
of
the
spare
wind
,
of
forests
.
He
thought
,
too
,
of
the
mountain
in
the
Auvergne-he
did
not
avoid
such
memories
in
the
least-of
his
cave
,
of
the
air
void
of
human
beings
.
He
thought
of
his
dreams
.
And
he
thought
of
all
these
things
with
great
satisfaction
.
Yes
,
it
seemed
to
him
as
he
looked
back
over
it
that
he
was
a
man
to
whom
fortune
had
been
especially
kind
,
and
that
fate
had
led
him
down
some
tortuous
paths
,
but
that
ultimately
they
had
proved
to
be
the
right
ones-how
else
would
it
have
been
possible
for
him
to
have
found
his
way
here
,
into
this
dark
chamber
,
at
the
goal
of
his
desires
?
He
was
,
now
that
he
really
considered
it
,
a
truly
blessed
individual!Feelings
of
humility
and
gratitude
welled
up
within
him
"
I
thank
you
,
"
he
said
softly
,
"
I
thank
you
,
Jean-Baptiste
Grenouille
,
for
being
what
you
are
!
"
So
touched
was
he
by
himself.Then
his
eyelids
closed-not
for
sleep
,
but
so
that
he
could
surrender
himself
completely
to
the
peace
of
this
holy
night
.
The
peace
filled
his
heart
.
But
it
seemed
also
as
if
it
reigned
all
about
him
.
He
smelled
the
peaceful
sleep
of
the
maid
in
the
adjoining
room
,
the
deep
contentment
of
Antoine
Richis
's
sleep
on
the
other
side
of
the
corridor
;
he
smelled
the
peaceful
slumber
of
the
innkeeper
and
his
servants
,
of
the
dogs
,
of
the
animals
in
their
stalls
,
of
the
whole
village
,
and
of
the
sea
.
The
wind
had
died
away
.
Everything
was
still
.
Nothing
disturbed
the
peace.Once
he
turned
his
foot
to
one
side
and
ever
so
softly
touched
Laure
's
foot
.
Not
actually
her
foot
,
but
simply
the
cloth
that
enveloped
it
and
beneath
that
the
thin
layer
of
oil
drinking
up
her
scent
,
her
glorious
scent
,
his
scent
.
AS
THE
BIRDS
began
to
squawk-that
is
,
a
good
while
before
the
break
of
dawn-he
got
up
and
finished
his
task
.
He
threw
open
the
cloth
and
pulled
it
from
the
dead
woman
like
a
bandage
.
The
fat
peeled
off
nicely
from
her
skin
.
Little
scraps
of
it
were
left
hanging
only
in
the
smallest
crannies
,
and
these
he
had
to
scrape
off
with
his
spatula
.
The
remaining
streaks
of
pomade
he
wiped
off
with
her
undershirt
,
using
it
to
rub
down
her
body
from
head
to
foot
one
last
time
,
so
thoroughly
that
even
the
oil
in
her
own
pores
pearled
from
her
skin
,
and
with
it
the
last
flake
and
filament
of
her
scent
.
Only
now
was
she
really
dead
for
him
,
withered
away
,
pale
and
limp
as
a
fallen
petal.He
tossed
the
undershirt
into
the
large
scent-impregnated
cloth-the
only
place
where
she
had
life
now-placed
her
nightgown
and
her
hair
in
it
as
well
,
and
rolled
it
all
up
into
a
small
,
firm
package
that
he
clamped
under
his
arm
.
He
did
not
even
take
the
trouble
to
cover
the
body
on
the
bed
.
And
although
the
black
of
night
had
already
become
the
blue
gray
of
dawn
and
objects
in
the
room
had
begun
to
regain
their
contours
,
he
did
not
cast
a
single
glance
at
the
bed
to
rest
his
eyes
on
her
at
least
once
in
his
life
.
Her
form
did
not
interest
him
.
She
no
longer
existed
for
him
as
a
body
,
but
only
as
a
disembodied
scent
.
And
he
was
carrying
that
under
his
arm
,
taking
it
with
him.Softly
he
swung
out
over
the
windowsill
and
climbed
down
the
ladder
.
The
wind
had
come
up
again
outside
,
and
the
sky
was
clearing
,
pouring
a
cold
,
dark
blue
light
over
the
land.A
half
hour
later
,
the
scullery
maid
started
the
fire
in
the
kitchen
.
As
she
came
out
of
the
house
to
fetch
wood
she
saw
the
ladder
leaning
there
,
but
was
still
too
sleepy
to
make
any
rhyme
or
reason
of
it
.
Shortly
after
six
the
sun
rose
.
Gigantic
and
golden
red
,
it
lifted
up
out
of
the
sea
between
the
lies
de
Lerins
.
Not
a
cloud
was
in
the
sky
.
A
radiant
spring
day
had
begun.With
his
room
facing
west
,
Richis
did
not
awaken
until
seven
.
He
had
slept
truly
splendidly
for
the
first
time
in
months
,
and
contrary
to
his
custom
lay
there
yet
another
quarter
of
an
hour
,
stretching
and
sighing
with
enjoyment
as
he
listened
to
the
pleasant
hubbub
rising
up
from
the
kitchen
below
.
When
he
finally
did
get
up
and
open
the
window
wide
,
taking
in
the
beautiful
weather
outside
and
breathing
in
the
fresh
morning
air
and
listening
to
the
sound
of
the
surf
,
his
good
mood
knew
no
bounds
,
and
he
puckered
his
lips
and
whistled
a
bright
melody.While
he
dressed
,
he
went
on
whistling
,
and
was
whistling
still
as
he
left
his
room
and
on
winged
feet
approached
the
door
to
his
daughter
's
room
across
the
hall
.
He
rapped
.
And
rapped
again
,
very
softly
,
so
as
not
to
frighten
her
.
There
was
no
answer
.
He
smiled
.
He
could
well
understand
that
she
was
still
sleeping.Carefully
he
inserted
the
key
in
the
lock
and
turned
the
bolt
,
softly
,
very
softly
,
considerately
,
not
wanting
to
wake
her
,
eager
almost
to
find
her
still
sleeping
,
wanting
to
kiss
her
awake
once
again-one
iast
time
,
before
he
must
give
her
to
another
man.The
door
sprang
open
,
he
entered
,
and
the
sunlight
fell
full
into
his
eyes
Everything
in
the
room
sparkled
,
as
if
it
were
filled
with
glittering
silver
,
and
for
a
moment
he
had
to
shut
his
eyes
against
the
pain
of
it.When
he
opened
them
again
,
he
saw
Laure
lying
on
her
bed
,
naked
and
dead
and
shorn
clean
and
sparkling
white
.
It
was
like
his
nightmare
,
the
one
he
had
dreamt
in
Grasse
the
night
before
last
and
had
forgotten
again
.
Every
detail
came
back
to
him
now
as
if
in
a
blazing
flash
.
In
that
instant
everything
was
exactly
as
it
had
been
in
the
dream
,
only
very
much
brighter
.
THE
NEWS
OF
Laure
Richis
's
murder
spread
through
the
region
of
Grasse
as
fast
as
if
the
message
had
been
"
The
king
is
dead
!
"
or
"
War
's
been
declared
!
"
or
"
Pirates
have
landed
on
the
coast
!
"
-
and
the
awful
sense
of
terror
it
triggered
was
similar
as
well
.
All
at
once
the
fear
that
they
had
so
carefully
forgotten
was
back
again
,
as
virulent
as
it
had
been
last
autumn
and
with
all
the
accompanying
phenomena
:
panic
,
outrage
,
anger
,
hysterical
suspicions
,
desperation
.
People
stayed
in
their
houses
at
night
,
locked
up
their
daughters
,
barricaded
themselves
in
,
mistrusted
one
another
,
and
slept
no
more
.
Everyone
assumed
it
would
continue
this
time
as
it
had
before
,
a
murder
a
week
.
The
calendar
seemed
to
have
been
set
back
six
months.The
dread
was
more
paralyzing
,
however
,
than
six
months
earlier
,
for
people
felt
helpless
at
the
sudden
return
of
a
danger
that
they
had
thought
well
behind
them
.
If
even
the
bishop
's
anathema
had
proved
useless
!
If
even
Antoine
Richis
,
the
great
Richis
,
the
richest
man
in
town
,
the
second
consul
,
a
powerful
,
prudent
man
who
had
every
kind
of
assistance
available
,
if
even
he
could
not
protect
his
child
!
If
the
murderer
's
hand
was
not
be
deterred
even
by
the
hallowed
beauty
of
Laure-for
indeed
she
seemed
a
saint
to
everyone
who
had
known
her
,
especially
now
,
afterwards
,
now
that
she
was
dead-what
hope
was
there
of
escaping
this
murderer
?
He
was
more
cruel
than
the
plague
,
for
you
could
flee
before
the
plague
,
but
not
before
this
murderer
,
as
the
case
of
Richis
had
proved
.
Apparently
he
possessed
supernatural
powers
.
He
was
most
certainly
in
league
with
the
devil
,
if
he
was
not
tue
devil
himself
.
And
so
many
people
,
especially
the
simpler
souls
,
knew
no
better
course
than
to
go
to
church
and
pray
,
every
tradesman
to
his
patron
:
the
locksmiths
to
St.
Aloysius
,
the
weavers
to
St.
Crispin
,
the
gardeners
to
St.
Anthony
,
the
perfumers
to
St.
Joseph
.
And
they
took
their
wives
and
daughters
with
them
,
praying
together
,
eating
and
sleeping
in
the
church
;
they
did
not
leave
during
the
day
themselves
now
,
convinced
that
the
only
possible
refuge
from
this
monster-if
any
refuge
was
to
be
had-was
under
the
protection
of
the
despairing
parish
and
the
gaze
of
the
Madonna.Seeing
that
the
church
had
failed
once
already
,
other
,
quicker
wits
banded
together
in
occult
groups
.
Hiring
at
great
expense
a
certified
witch
from
Gour-don
,
they
crept
into
one
of
the
many
limestone
grottoes
of
subterranean
Grasse
and
celebrated
black
masses
to
curry
the
Old
Gentleman
's
favor
.
Still
others
,
in
particular
members
of
the
upper
middle
class
and
the
educated
nobility
,
put
their
money
on
the
most
modern
scientific
methods
,
magnetizing
their
houses
,
hypnotizing
their
daughters
,
gathering
in
their
salons
for
secret
fluidal
meetings
,
and
employing
telepathy
to
drive
off
the
murderer
's
spirit
with
communal
thought
emissions
.
The
guilds
organized
a
penitential
procession
from
Grasse
to
La
Napoule
and
back
.
The
monks
from
the
town
's
five
monasteries
established
services
of
perpetual
prayer
and
ceaseless
chants
,
so
that
soon
unbroken
lamentation
was
heard
day
and
night
,
now
on
one
street
comer
,
now
on
another
.
Hardly
anyone
worked
.
Thus
,
with
feverish
passivity
and
something
very
like
impatience
,
the
people
of
Grasse
awaited
the
murderer
's
next
blow
.
No
one
doubted
that
it
would
fall
.
And
secretly
everyone
yearned
to
hear
the
horrible
news
,
if
only
in
the
hope
that
it
would
not
be
about
him
,
but
someone
else.This
time
,
however
,
the
civil
,
regional
,
and
provincial
authorities
did
not
allow
themselves
to
be
infected
by
the
hysterical
mood
of
the
citizenry
.
For
the
first
time
since
the
murderer
of
maidens
had
appeared
on
the
scene
,
well-planned
and
effective
cooperative
efforts
were
instituted
among
the
prefectures
of
Grasse
,
Draguignan
,
and
Toulon
,
among
magistrates
,
police
,
commissaries
,
parliament
,
and
the
navy.This
cooperation
among
the
powerful
arose
partly
from
fear
of
a
general
civil
uprising
,
partly
from
the
fact
that
only
since
Laure
Richis
's
murder
did
they
have
clues
that
made
systematic
pursuit
of
the
murderer
possible
for
the
first
time
.
The
murderer
had
been
seen
.
Obviously
they
were
dealing
with
the
ominous
journeyman
tanner
who
had
spent
the
night
of
the
murder
in
the
inn
stables
and
disappeared
the
next
morning
without
a
trace
.
According
to
the
joint
testimony
of
the
innkeeper
,
the
groom
,
and
Richis
,
he
was
a
nondescript
,
shortish
fellow
with
a
brownish
coat
and
a
coarse
linen
knapsack
.
Although
in
other
respects
the
recollections
of
the
three
witnesses
remained
unusually
vague-they
had
been
unable
to
describe
the
man
's
face
,
hair
color
,
or
manner
of
speech-the
innkeeper
did
add
that
,
if
he
was
not
mistaken
,
he
had
noticed
something
awkward
or
limping
about
the
stranger
's
posture
and
gait
,
as
if
he
had
a
wounded
leg
or
a
crippled
foot.Armed
with
these
clues
,
two
mounted
troops
had
taken
up
pursuit
of
the
murderer
by
noon
of
the
same
day
,
following
the
Mar6chaussee
in
the
direction
of
Marseille-one
along
the
coast
,
the
other
taking
the
inland
road
.
The
environs
of
La
Napoule
were
combed
by
volunteers
.
Two
commissioners
from
the
provincial
court
at
Grasse
traveled
to
Nice
to
make
inquiries
about
journeyman
tanners
.
All
ships
departing
from
the
ports
of
Frejus
,
Cannes
,
and
Antibes
were
checked
;
the
roads
leading
across
the
border
into
Savoy
were
blocked
and
travelers
required
to
identify
themselves
.
For
those
who
could
read
,
an
arrest
warrant
and
description
of
the
culprit
appeared
on
all
the
town
gates
of
Grasse
,
Vence
,
and
Gourdon
,
and
on
village
church
doors
.
Town
criers
made
three
announcements
daily
.
The
report
of
a
suspected
club-foot
,
of
course
,
merely
confirmed
the
view
that
the
culprit
was
none
other
than
the
devil
himself
and
tended
more
to
arouse
panic
among
the
populace
than
to
bring
in
useful
information
.
