Hungersnot

Kapitel 22

It will only come about after heroic deeds.

He could now rest peacefully for a while. He stretched out his limbs, completely relaxed on the cleansed mat of his soul.

I unfolded comfortably, imagining the exquisite fragrance playing around my nose: for example, like the scent of a spring meadow.

The fragrant air drifted in, along with the gentle May breeze that swept across the newly green leaves of the beech trees; and the breeze that blew in from the sea...

A pungent breeze, like salted almonds, wafted through the air. When he rose, it was nearly dusk—almost...

It was near dusk, because here there was naturally no afternoon, morning, evening, or dawn; there was no light, no darkness, and nothing else.

The spring meadows, devoid of green camphor tree leaves… there was nothing at all in Grenouille's inner universe.

Only the smell of things. (Therefore, this is a specific way of speaking, describing the universe as a place, a...)

This is the most appropriate and only possible way to express it, because our language is not suited to describing the world of smell.

It was already late afternoon, almost dusk, which revealed Grenouille's state of mind and the passage of time, just as it had in the south.

It looked like the afternoon nap was ending; the numbness of midday was slowly leaving this place, and the suppressed life was about to begin again.

Beginning. The heat—the great enemy of noble fragrance—has vanished; all demons have been annihilated. The inner world is now red...

Naked and soft, it lay in the awakened, wanton silence, awaiting its master's judgment.

Grenouille rose—as already mentioned—and stretched, shaking off his sleepiness. He—the great spirit...

Grenouille the God—he stood up, like a giant; he was handsome, tall, and looked divine.

"It's a shame no one saw him!" he exclaimed, surveying his surroundings with pride and authority. Yes! This was him.

The Kingdom of Grenouille! The unique Kingdom of Grenouille! It was founded and ruled by the incomparable Grenouille.

When will we establish it, expand it to boundless limits, and defend it with gleaming swords to repel every invasion?

O sir! Here, his will, the great, handsome, incomparable will of Grenouille, is at work.

He would use it. Having rid himself of the nauseating stench of the past, he would now make his kingdom fragrant! He strode forward...

With firm steps, they reached the uncultivated fields and sowed various spice crops across the vast expanse of land.

In the garden and the small, lovely flower beds, some seeds were sown more here and less there; handfuls of seeds were scattered everywhere, or...

Each grain was placed individually in a spot he had chosen. The great Grenouille, like a mad gardener, rushed all the way to…

In the farthest reaches of his kingdom, there was soon no corner where spice seeds were not sown.

When he saw that things were going well, and the whole earth was sown with his magical Grenouille seeds, he was amazed.

A light, continuous rain of alcohol fell on Grenouille, and everywhere buds and shoots began to sprout.

All the seeds had sprouted, and he was overjoyed. Soon the plantation was lush and verdant, a verdant paradise.

The plant's stems are full of sap. The flower buds have almost all burst open from the perianth.

Then the great Grenouille stopped the rain. And indeed, the rain stopped. He sent forth his smiling, gentle sun.

Suddenly, the earth burst into a breathtaking spectacle of vibrant, blooming flowers, stretching from one end of the kingdom to the other.

It formed a single, colorful carpet woven from countless precious flowers. The great Grenouille was very pleased to see this.

Okay, very, very good. He spread the wind formed from his breath across the earth. Lovely flowers emitted their fragrance, making it...

Their fragrances blend into an all-encompassing scent that constantly shimmers, yet is also constantly evolving and merging together.

The taste, in homage to this great man, this unique person, the beautiful Grenouille, while Grenouille sat...

On the golden, fragrant cloud throne, he inhaled again, taking in the scent, feeling the air he breathed...

They blessed him many times; and his masterpiece, overjoyed, once again gave him its exquisite fragrance in gratitude. At this time...

Night had fallen, and the fragrance continued to waft through the air, mingling with the blue night sky to create an even more wondrous aroma. A true...

The authentic fragrance ball is about to begin with the lighting of a huge, colorful fireworks display.

Great Grenouille was a little tired. He yawned and said, "Look, I've accomplished a great task."

I was very satisfied with it. But like everything that's finished, it started to bore me. Now I think...

Now, as this busy day comes to an end, let me do one last little thing that brings joy to the room of my heart.

The great Grenouille spoke, spreading his wings and soaring from the golden clouds across the night-covered land of his soul.

He returned home, to his own heart, while the fragrant spirits below him sang and danced in celebration.

Ah, it's so good to be home! This dual identity of Avenger and world creator is truly inspiring!

That's quite a lot; afterward, letting the elves he created celebrate for several hours isn't even the most proper rest. Great Grimes...

Renoir grew weary of his divine creative and representative duties and longed for family life.

His heart was like a purple palace. It sat in a rocky desert hidden behind sand dunes, Zhou

It was surrounded by a swampy oasis, behind which were seven stone walls. Only by flying could one reach it. The palace had a thousand rooms.

A thousand basements, a thousand upscale salons, one of which features a simple purple sofa, Gray

After a long day of labor, Grenouille lay down to rest. He was no longer the great Grenouille, but completely...

The unseen Grenouille or the ordinary, charming Jean-Baptiste.

The palace rooms were lined with shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, and on these shelves were books by Grenouille.

He had collected millions of scents throughout his life. In the palace's basement, barrels contained his finest collection.

The perfume. Once the perfume has matured, it is bottled and then placed along a long, damp, shady walkway.

They are categorized by year and origin, and there are so many that one could never drink them all in a lifetime.

The lovable Jean-Baptiste finally returned to his "own home," lying in the purple salon in his ordinary...

On the spacious and comfortable sofa—and if you wish, take off your boots last—he clapped his hands and called for…

His servants are those who cannot see, feel, hear, and, most importantly, smell. They are entirely of the imagination.

His servants were instructed to go to each room and fetch this or that book from the great library of scents, and take it to the ground.

The servant went to fetch him a drink. The servant seemed to hurry about, but Grenouille's stomach unexpectedly cramped.

Suddenly, he felt as depressed as a terrified alcoholic standing next to a liquor cabinet, as if someone would refuse to give him something under some pretext.

He wanted the soju. What? The basement and the room are all empty now? What? The sake in the barrels has all gone bad? Why?

Why make him wait? Why isn't the person here yet? He needs a drink right away, he needs it immediately. He's having an attack right now, if he doesn't...

He will die soon.

But don't get excited, Baptiste! Quiet, darling! He'll be here soon, bringing you what you need.

Senara and his servants had already come running. They carried trays with the Book of Scents on them, and they used...

Unseen hands in white gloves brought out bottles of expensive drinks. They put the bottles down very carefully.

They bowed and walked away.

Finally, he was left all alone—once again!—utterly alone! Baptiste reached for the book.

The Book of Scents: I opened the first perfume bottle, poured myself a full glass, raised it to my lips, and drank.

He downed a glass of cool perfume in one gulp—it was delicious! It felt wonderful, so much so that the lovely Jean-Baptiste...

He was so happy that tears streamed down his face. He immediately poured himself another glass of perfume: it was from 1752, and its scent was...

I inhaled the air from King's Bridge before sunrise that spring, pointing my nose westward. A gentle breeze was blowing from the west at that time.

It smelled of the sea, the forest, and a faint tar from the small boats moored on the shore. This was his...

The scent lingers as my first night wandering Paris without Grimald's permission draws to a close. It's the scent of an approaching day.

The fresh scent of his first dawn, a time of carefree joy. That scent heralded his freedom.

The scent of that morning was a scent of hope for Grenouille. He preserved it carefully.

I drink it every day.

After he finished the second cup, all his tension, doubts, and anxieties vanished, and his heart returned to peace.

He sat down, pressing his back firmly against the cushions of the sofa, opened a book, and began to read thoughtfully. He read...

The smells of childhood, the smells of school, the smells of streets and city corners, the smells of people. He hit...

A comfortable chill ran through me, for these were all scents that had vanished and were now being summoned back. Gray

Noyer read the nauseatingly pungent book with a disgusted interest; if his revulsion outweighed his excitement, he would close it.

He tossed it aside and picked up another book to read.

In addition, he constantly drank expensive perfumes. After finishing the bottle containing Hope perfume, he opened another one.

Produced in 1744, the bottle was filled with the warm, woody scent of Madame Gallard's house. Then he drank a bottle.

A fragrant summer night perfume, rich in floral notes, was collected in 1753 near a park close to Saint-Germain.

Collection.

His belly was now filled with fragrance. His limbs rested heavier and heavier on the cushion. His consciousness was becoming very hazy.

He was drunk. However, his frenzied drinking was not yet over. Although his eyes could no longer read, the book had long since slipped from his hands.

It slid down, but he wouldn't stop tonight until he finished the last bottle, the most beautiful one.

A bottle of this is like the fragrance of a young girl on Rue Marais...

He drank devoutly, sitting upright on the sofa, though he found it difficult because of the purple...

The salon was swaying. With each movement, it spun around the ground. Little Grenouille, in a student's posture, with his knees together,

His feet were close together, his left hand rested on his left thigh, and he drank the most beautiful fragrance retrieved from the basement of his soul.

Cup after cup, the sorrow grows ever stronger.

He knew he had drunk too much. He knew he couldn't drink that much good beverage. But he still finished the glass.

He finished it. He walked through the dimly lit passageway from the street into the backyard. He walked towards the light.

He put down his glass, lost in thought due to his melancholy and excessive drinking, and remained there for several more minutes until the aftertaste faded.

It disappeared from his tongue. He stared blankly.