Король расхитителей гробниц - Глава 11
Humanity will inevitably sink into this quagmire one day, where only glittering and foul-smelling things will grow.
A flower blooming in the mud, just like this Pellissiere!
Old man Baldini stood at the window, facing the setting sun, gazing at the Seine with a look of hatred.
Small cargo boats floated below, slowly gliding westward toward the pier in front of the Pont Neuf and the Louvre galleries. No small...
The boats, propelled by poles, went upstream, all taking the tributary on the other side of the island! Here, empty boats and cargo boats rowed...
The fishermen's small boats, the dirty brown river water, and the river rippling with golden waves—all of this unfolded slowly and peacefully.
The river flowed ceaselessly. Baldini looked down vertically, right next to the house wall, at the ever-flowing river.
He felt dizzy, as if he were being sucked into the foundation of the bridge.
Buying a house on the bridge was a mistake, but buying a house on the west side of the bridge was a doubly mistaken one.
Now he often gazes at the flowing river. He feels that he himself, his house, and the money he has earned over the decades...
The wealth he had acquired seemed to flow away like a river. He felt he was too old and too weak to stop this powerful force.
The water flow. Sometimes he was busy on the left bank of the river, that is, in the area around the University of Paris or near the Saint-Sulpice monastery.
He would not pass through the island or the Pont Saint-Michel, but would take a longer route to the Pont Neuf, since no houses had been built on the Pont Neuf.
So he stood by the eastern wall, looking up at the river, so that he could collect everything flowing towards him.
His eyes. For a long while, he was immersed in this imagination: his life had turned upside down, business...
Prosperity, family prosperity, women's happiness, his livelihood did not worsen, but improved day by day.
But later, when he looked up slightly, he saw his own house hundreds of meters away.
Thin and narrow, high on the trading bridge, I could see the window of the second-floor office, and see myself standing by the window, looking...
I saw myself gazing at the river, watching the rushing water, just as I am now. Then the dream vanished, and I stood...
Baldini, standing on the Pont Neuf, turned around, looking even more dejected than before, just like he did now. Then he left.
He walked to the window, then towards the desk, and sat down.
Before him lay a small bottle of Pélissiere perfume. The perfume was clear and transparent, not at all cloudy, and shone brightly in the sunlight.
It shone with a golden-brown light when the sunlight shone down. It appeared pure and flawless, like clear tea—but apart from four-fifths of it…
Besides alcohol, there's another fifth of a mysterious mixture that will cause a city-wide sensation. This mixture might be yet another...
It is composed of three or thirty different raw materials, which are combined in a certain proportion of countless quantities.
If one could speak of the soul of the perfumes of this ruthless businessman, Pélissiere, then this mixture...
That is the soul of perfume. Baldini is now trying to figure out the structure of this soul.
Baldini carefully wiped the snot from his nose and pulled the blackout curtains down a little, because the direct sunlight...
Light is harmful to any fragrance and any fine perfume. He took a clean white...
He unfolded the fine handkerchief. Then he gently twisted the stopper, opening the perfume bottle. He pulled his head back, tightly...
He closed his nostrils because he didn't want to get an impression of the scent directly from the perfume bottle too early. Perfume shouldn't be applied at high concentrations.
To smell it properly, you must smell it when the scent is fully dispersed and plentiful. He sprinkled a few drops of perfume on a handkerchief, then held the handkerchief...
He swung the handkerchief in the air to let the alcohol evaporate, then placed it under his nose. His nose
Three quick and forceful thrusts, like inhaling medicinal powder to draw the scent into the stomach, then immediately expelling it, giving...
Fan yourself, take three deep breaths, and finally inhale deeply, then slowly... (divided into multiple, simulated...)
He exhaled it as if Buddha were sliding down a gently sloping, long staircase. He tossed the handkerchief onto the table and leaned back in his seat.
He sat down on the sofa.
This perfume is superb. It's a pity that this lousy Pellisier is an expert. Damn it, he's a master, and he...
He hadn't studied anything before! He hoped this "Amour and Psyche" would be his own product. It had absolutely no...
Vulgar. Absolutely sophisticated; it is pure and harmonious. Nevertheless, it is novel and captivating. It is refreshing, without a trace of...
It's not pungent. Like a flower, it's not sentimental. It has depth, a beautiful, deep brown, captivating...
A captivating and enduring depth; yet not at all ostentatious or pretentious.
Baldini stood up almost in awe, and once again brought the handkerchief to his nose. "Wonderful!"
"Ah, wonderful..." he murmured to himself, sniffing greedily, "It's so refreshing, so lovely."
Like a beautiful melody, it lifts one's spirits... Nonsense, lifts one's spirits! He angrily threw the handkerchief back onto the table.
He turned and walked to the very back corner of the room, as if he were ashamed of his excitement.
How ridiculous! I actually said such flattering things! "Like a beautiful melody. Refreshing. Excellent."
"High spirits." — Nonsense! What childish and laughable nonsense. A fleeting impression. An old problem. A matter of temperament.
Or perhaps it's part of the Italian genetic makeup. As long as you're smelling it, don't judge! That's rule number one, Baldi.
Hey, you old fool! When you sniff, just sniff, and then you can judge! "Amor and Psyche" is...
A pretty good perfume. A very successful product. A poorly made product with clever blending. Actually, it could...
It's described as a deceptive trick. You can't expect someone like Pellisier to come up with anything that's deceptive.
Different things come from different theaters. Of course, a guy like Pélissiere can't produce a mass-market perfume. This rogue, with his high...
Superb skills deceive people, using perfect coordination to fool their sense of smell; this person is merely wearing the guise of first-rate perfumery skills.
A wolf in sheep's clothing—in short, a talented monster. He is worse than a mediocre person with righteous beliefs.
But you, Baldini, you will not be fooled! You are only momentarily impressed by this shoddy perfume.
The impression was unexpected. But do people know that an hour later, when its most volatile components disappear, and...
What exactly does it smell like when its central structure appears? Or, even tonight, when only a faint scent can still be detected...
When those heavy, dark elements, like alluring floral scents emanating from impenetrable light, are... what will they be?
What smell? Just wait, Baldini.
The second rule states: Perfume lives on in time; it has its youth, its adulthood, and its old age. Only...
A successful perfume is one that emits a pleasant fragrance consistently throughout all three of these different periods.
I once created a blended perfume. On the first test, the scent was beautiful and refreshing, but after a while, the smell...
Just like rotten fruit that eventually emits an unpleasant, excessive cat-like odor, we encounter this situation all the time!
Be careful with the amount of cat incense you use!
Even a single drop more could lead to failure. This is often the root of mistakes. Who knows—perhaps Pellisier used too much…
The stench of rotten cats lingers. Perhaps by tonight, only a trace of his ambitious "Amor and Psyche" will remain.
The smell of cat poop! We'll see.
We will smell it. Just as a sharp axe splits a piece of wood into the smallest pieces, our noses can also...
His perfume is broken down into tiny molecules, thus proving that this so-called magic fragrance is familiar to very ordinary people.
It was produced through [unclear] methods. We, Baldini, perfume connoisseurs, will certainly recognize the deception of this vinegar maker, Pellissier.
His trickery! We will strip away his mask and prove to the innovators that the old craftsmanship is perfectly reliable! We will divide...
They will perfectly replicate his fashionable perfume. Our hands will create new perfumes, replicas that are flawless.
Even he himself couldn't distinguish it from his own perfume. No! Our goal is far more than that! We...
We need to reform this perfume! We need to point out his mistakes, correct them, and confront him directly about them in this way:
You're a complete idiot, Pellissier! You're a greenhorn! A nouveau riche in the perfume industry, nothing more!
Now get to work, Baldini! Get your nose working properly, get rid of its sentimentality, and sniff it properly!
Let it break down the fragrance according to the rules of the technique! You absolutely must get the molecular formula tonight!
He ran back to his desk, took out some paper, ink, and a clean handkerchief, put these things away, and began to...
The analysis work. The process was as follows: he quickly swept a handkerchief, freshly dampened with perfume, under his nose, trying to detect the scent as it drifted past.
He intercepts this or that component in the fragrant mist, paying little attention to the complex mixture of all parts; then, he
Holding the handkerchief in his outstretched hand, he quickly jotted down the names of the discovered ingredients, then held the handkerchief to his nose.
It sweeps downwards, capturing the next fragrance component, and so on...
He worked continuously for two hours. His movements became increasingly hurried, his handwriting increasingly illegible, and he...
The amount of perfume poured onto a handkerchief and smelled under the nose also increased.
He could barely smell anything now; he knew he'd long since inhaled the ether, and continuing to sniff would be futile.
Significance. He'll probably never figure out the ingredients of this new perfume; it's impossible to figure them out today, even with God's blessing.
Let his nose rest well; he won't understand tomorrow anyway. He's never learned to smell in a decomposing way. To decompose a scent...
He was very reluctant to do this. To break down a complete, more or less intact structure into its simple fragments...
He wasn't interested at all. He didn't want to do anything anymore.
But his hands continued to move mechanically, using graceful movements practiced thousands of times to dip into the expensive handkerchief.
He swung the handkerchief, letting it quickly sweep across his face, and with each sweep, he inhaled a mouthful of it as if snatching something away.
The air was filled with a pleasant fragrance, which he then slowly exhaled according to technical instructions. This continued until his nose became swollen from an allergic reaction.
It was as if a wax plug had been used to seal the wound, freeing him from his suffering. Now he couldn't smell anything at all.
He could barely breathe. His nose was blocked up like he had a bad cold, and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. Thank God!
He can end it now; his conscience tells him the truth. He has fulfilled his responsibilities and done his utmost.
They followed all the technical rules. Yet, as before, it ended in failure. "No one was to blame..."
"Do what you can't do." Time to wrap up and rest. Tomorrow morning, if absolutely necessary, he'll send someone to buy a large bottle.
"Amour and Psyche," and sprayed perfume on the Spanish leather ordered by Count Villamont. He would then take...
He would go to the salons of elderly duchesses to solicit business, carrying small boxes containing old-fashioned soaps, balms, and sachets.