perfume - Chapter 37
He laid the blanket loosely on the table and on the plums, being careful not to touch the greased side. Then he lifted the blanket.
The sudden, warm, and overwhelmingly sweet fragrance of the young girl did not move him. He was familiar with the scent, and waited...
Later, when he fully possesses the fragrance, he will enjoy it, enjoy it to the point of ecstasy. But now, it must be done as much as possible.
We must take in from multiple locations to minimize losses; now we must be fully focused and act swiftly.
He quickly cut open her nightgown with scissors, stripped it off her, and took the oil-smeared sheet to cover her.
On her naked body. Then, he lifted her up, stroked the sheet covering her, and rolled her up inside, like a dough...
The baozi rolls thin dough into rolls, folding the ends over, wrapping it tightly from toes to forehead. Only her hair remains, like a roll.
The bandages covering the mummy were visible. He cut hair from her scalp, wrapped it inside her nightgown, and tied the nightgown tightly.
He tied it up. Finally, he placed the remaining piece of cloth on his shaved head, smoothed out the overlapping section, and used his fingers...
A gently wiped it. He examined the bundle of body again. There were no gaps, no small holes, no tears at the folds, and few...
The woman's scent couldn't escape. She was perfectly bandaged. Now, besides waiting, there was nothing else to do; he had to...
I waited for six hours, until dawn.
He picked up the small sofa with her clothes on it, placed it beside the bed, and sat down. She was wearing a dress with a small front knot...
The cork was smooth and fragrant, a scent that mingled with the mushrooms she kept in her pocket as travel rations.
The scent of sweet pastries filled the air. He put his feet up on the edge of the bed, nestled near her feet, and covered himself with her clothes.
He was eating fragrant pastries. He was tired. But he didn't want to sleep, because it wasn't advisable to sleep while working.
This made his current task merely waiting. He recalled the nights he spent in the distillery at the Baldini factory: remembering...
The blackened still, the flickering fire, the way he dripped the distillate into the Florentine jug through the cooling tube...
The fire made a sound. At that time, he had to constantly monitor the fire, add distilled water, change the Florence jug, and replenish it.
Distillate. However, he always felt as if he wasn't awake to do these occasional things, but rather for some other reason.
The purpose of the body. Even in this room, the process of smelling herbs is done entirely alone; it's not even timely here.
Examining, turning over, and busying oneself with the fragrant bag containing the corpse would only produce negative results—
—Grenouille felt that even here, staying awake was crucial. Sleeping might jeopardize the success of things.
achievement.
Although he was tired, staying awake and waiting wasn't difficult for him. He liked waiting like this. In dealing with those twenty-four...
When he was a young girl, he also enjoyed waiting, because it wasn't a dull wait, nor an eager wait for something to come, but rather...
A kind of incidental, meaningful waiting, which is, to some extent, a positive waiting. During this waiting period...
Something has happened, something important has occurred. Even if he didn't do it himself, it still happened through him.
Born. He did his utmost. He displayed his superb skill; he made no mistakes. This undertaking is extraordinary.
It was certain that it would succeed… He had to wait a few more hours. This waiting satisfied him.
I've never felt so good, so calm, so composed, so at ease in my entire life as I have in these past few hours.
He melted into one with himself—something he had never done even in the mountains—because he was sitting beside his victim late at night.
Waking up and waiting. This was the opportune moment for a light and pleasant thought to form in his melancholy mind.
Strangely, these thoughts didn't involve the future. He wasn't thinking about the aroma he would harvest in a few hours, nor...
He envisioned a perfume made from the scents of twenty-five young girls, but not future plans, happiness, or achievements. No, he...
He was reflecting on his past. He recalled the course of his life: from Mrs. Galar's house and the pile of warm water in front of it.
The warm wood, until today when he traveled to the fishy-smelling village of Lanapule. He thought of the tanner Grima...
Giuseppe Baldini, Marquis de la Tayard-Espinas. He thought of Paris. Its thousands of...
Thousands of shimmering, nauseating plumes of smoke reminded him of Marey Street, the open land, the gentle breeze, and the forest. He also thought...
Mount Auvergne—he didn't shy away from this memory—his cave, the uninhabited air. He also recalled his…
A dream. He recalled these things with deep joy. Indeed, as he thought back, he...
He considers himself a very lucky person; although his fate led him astray, it ultimately led him to the right path.
On the road—otherwise, how could he have come here, into this pitch-black room, to reach what he desired?
What is his goal? Whenever he thinks correctly, he is a truly gifted individual.
He was deeply moved, and a feeling of reverence and gratitude welled up within him. "I thank you," he whispered, "I..."
"Thank you, Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, you are still the same you." He was so moved, it was entirely out of...
In his heart. Later, he closed his eyes—not to sleep, but to revel in the sacred night. He smelled the maid's scent.
He slept peacefully in the next room, while Antoine Richis slept soundly across the hallway, the scent of his boss wafting through the air. The employees...
Dogs, livestock in their pens. Nothing in the entire region and by the sea disturbed the peace.
Once, he turned one foot to the side and gently touched Lorre's foot. Of course, not her foot.
It was the cloth that wrapped her feet, beneath which lay a thin layer of grease, which had become infused with her fragrance.
Her wonderful fragrance.
When the birds began to sing—meaning there was still a considerable amount of time before dawn—he stood up and finished his work.
He began his work. He uncovered the sheet, peeling it off the deceased like a piece of adhesive tape. The grease immediately clung to the skin.
It was off. Only a small bulge remained in the concealed area, which he scraped off with a scraper. A little grease remained, which he then used a sauerkraut...
He used his undershirt to wipe himself. Finally, he used the undershirt to wipe Lor's body, from head to toe, wiping him very thoroughly.
Even the last bits of oil and the faintest trace of fragrance were wiped off his skin. Only then did he realize...
For she was truly dead, withered, pale, and limp like the petals of a flower.
He threw his undershirt into the large sheet that still smelled of perfume and contained traces of the young girl's body, and then put his pajamas...
He put her hair inside, rolled everything into a tight little bundle, and then covered the body on the bed with it.
By this time, although the darkness of night had turned into the blue-gray of dawn, the things in the room had begun to reveal themselves.
He saw her outline, but he didn't glance at her bed, so that he would at least see her with his eyes once in his life. He looked at her...
He wasn't interested in her appearance. To him, she no longer existed as a body; only the fragrance of a bodyless woman remained.
The scent. And he carried that scent with him, tucked under his arm.
He lightly jumped onto the windowsill and climbed down the ladder. Outside, the wind picked up again; the sky was clear and cold.
The deep blue light poured down onto the earth.
Half an hour later, the maid started a fire in the kitchen. When she went to the front of the house to get firewood, she saw a ladder leaning against the wall.
But still half-asleep, she was completely bewildered. Just after six o'clock, the sun rose. This enormous, golden-red...
The sun rose from the sea between two islands of the Leland Islands. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. A clear day.
Spring has begun.
Richis's room faced west, and he woke up at seven o'clock. For the first time in months, he had a good night's sleep, and...
And contrary to his usual habits, he lay there for another fifteen minutes, lazily stretching his limbs on the bed and sighing happily.
He listened intently to the pleasant sounds emanating from the kitchen. Then he got up, opened the window wide, and looked outside.
On a clear day, breathing in the fresh, fragrant morning air and listening to the sound of the ocean waves, his mood reached a high level.
At the climax, he pursed his lips into a pointed shape and played a cheerful melody.
He continued playing his flute as he dressed, and as he left the room, he strode briskly across the hallway.
He was still blowing as he approached his daughter's room. He knocked on the door. He knocked again, gently so as not to startle her.
There was no answer. He smiled. He knew she was still asleep.
He carefully inserted the key into the lock, turned the latch, and gently, being careful not to wake her, almost...
He desperately hoped to see her still asleep, before he was forced to marry her. Fate—a man, before, once again,
This was also the last time I kissed her awake from her sleep.
The door opened, and he stepped into the room, sunlight illuminating his entire face. The room seemed filled with shimmering, silvery light.
Everything radiated light, and he was in so much pain that he had to close his eyes for a while.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw Lor lying on the bed, naked, dead, his hair shaved off, his whole body...
It was extremely white. The situation was just like the nightmare he had in Grasse the night before last, the one he had forgotten upon waking.
At that moment, the dream returned to his memory like a thunderbolt. Everything suddenly became exactly the same as in the dream, only clearer.
Much clearer. News of Lor Riches's assassination spread rapidly throughout the Grasse region, as if it were a legend: "The King..."
"Dead!" "War has broken out!" or "Pirates have landed!" This news evoked similar, even more...
A severe panic. Long-forgotten fears suddenly returned, spreading like they did last autumn, accompanied by panic...
Indignation, rage, hysterical doubt, and despair. People stayed home again at night, locking their daughters away.
They built fortifications to protect themselves, stopped sleeping, and stopped trusting each other. Everyone wondered if things would turn out the way they were before.
That's how it is. With the weekly massacre, time seems to have rewound halfway.
Fear is more numbing than it was six months ago, because the danger that people thought they had long since passed has suddenly returned.
A sense of helplessness spread among them. Even the bishop's curse failed; Antoine Richis, the great...
Richis, the city's wealthiest citizen, the Second Senator, a powerful, composed, and dignified figure, could...
Despite using every possible means, they could not protect their child; the murderer's hand was utterly helpless against Lorre's saintly beauty.
Showing no mercy—because in fact, everyone who knows her considers her a saint, especially now, in her...
After death; what hope is there in escaping the murderer? He is more cruel than the plague, for people can avoid the plague.
Despite the epidemic, they could not escape the clutches of the murderer; Richis is proof of this. The murderer clearly possessed extraordinary abilities. Even though he himself...
If a person is not the devil, then he must have allied himself with the devil. Therefore, many people, mainly due to their simple minds...