Король расхитителей гробниц - Глава 12
One day, the last duchess will die, and he will lose his last female customer. He himself...
He too will become an old man and have to sell his house, to Pellissier or some nouveau riche businessman.
He might even get a few thousand livres for this. He would pack a suitcase or two, if his wife came...
He was still alive then and would travel to Italy with her. If he was still alive after the trip, he would buy something near Messina.
A small house, where houses are cheap. There, whenever God calls, this former Parisian perfume...
Expert Giuseppe Baldini will die penniless. That's a pretty good hand.
He plugged the bottle, put down the dip pen, and wiped his forehead one last time with a handkerchief soaked in alcohol and perfume. He noticed...
There was only the cool, evaporating scent of alcohol, nothing else. Then the sun went down.
Baldini stood up. He opened the blinds, and his body, up to his knees, was bathed in the evening light.
It shone like a torch that had burned out but still emitted a faint glow. He gazed at the deep red edge of the sun behind the Louvre and...
The softest light shone on the city's slate-tiled roofs. At his feet, the river shimmered with golden light; the boats had vanished without a trace.
Just then, a gust of wind must have blown, because the wind rippled across the water like scales, causing the water to shimmer and sparkle intermittently.
Getting closer and closer, it was as if a giant hand was scattering millions of gold Louis into the water, and the river's flow seemed to reverse in an instant.
Here it comes: a golden tide of smoke surges toward Baldini.
Baldini's eyes were moist and filled with sorrow. He stood silently for a long time, gazing at this beautiful scene.
Then, he suddenly opened the window wide, both panes swung open, and threw the bottle of Pélissie's perfume out with all his might.
He saw how the bottle skimmed across the water's surface, instantly slicing through the shimmering water.
Fresh air flowed into the room. Baldini took a breath and noticed that the swelling in his nose had gone down. Then he...
Close the window. Almost simultaneously, night falls over the cemetery. The golden picture of the city and the Seine freezes.
A grey silhouette. The room suddenly darkened. Baldini stood by the window again, in the same posture as before, gazing.
Looking out the window. "I won't send anyone to Pellissiere tomorrow," he said, gripping the back of the chair tightly with both hands.
"I won't send anyone. I won't go on a sales trip to the salon. Tomorrow I'll go to the notary public to register my house and shop."
Sell the shop. That's what I want to do, it's settled!
His facial expression became stubborn, like a child's, and he suddenly felt incredibly happy. He was once again the person he used to be.
A young Baldini, as resolute and courageous as ever. Daring to defy fate—even in the present circumstances.
In this situation, confrontation is merely a retreat. There's no turning back! There's no other way. Time allows no other options.
The choice. God creates good times and difficult times, but His intention is not for us to make the difficult times...
Instead of lamenting and complaining, he called for us men to be tested. He sent a signal! This blood-red city...
The golden illusion is a warning: act now, Baldini, there's no time to lose! Your house still stands firmly.
Standing there, your warehouse is still full of goods, and you can still get a good price for your struggling business. (Decision)
The decision remains in your hands. Spending your later years simply in Messina may not be your life's purpose, but...
It's more dignified, more in accordance with God's will, than to ostentatiously destroy in Paris. Let Brué, Cato, and Péri...
Go be happy, Sié! Giuseppe Baldini has abdicated. But this is voluntary, not a surrender!
He felt proud and incredibly relaxed at that moment. For many years, this had caused neck spasms and constantly bent shoulders.
The arched spasms disappeared from his back for the first time, and he stood up straight without any effort, feeling relaxed, his face...
A look of joy crossed his face. His breath was light and quick through his nose. He could clearly smell the "Amo" that filled the room.
The scent of "ear and Psyche" no longer mattered to him. Baldini had changed his life, and he felt...
He felt incredibly proud of himself. He hadn't felt this good in years.
He really wanted to go upstairs to his wife, tell her his decision, and then go to the Virgin Mary.
He worshipped, lit a candle, and gave thanks to God for His merciful guidance and the gifts He had bestowed upon him—Bardini—
An incredibly strong character.
With the energy of a young man, he put the wig on his bald head, draped a blue coat over his shoulders, and picked up the...
The candlestick on the desk was removed from the office. He had just lit the candle next to the grease candle in the stairwell so he could go upstairs.
The streetlights illuminated the room, and then a bell rang from the first floor. It wasn't the melodious Persian chimes from the shop entrance, but rather…
The jarring chimes from the servants' quarters were a constant source of annoyance, a persistent and unpleasant noise. He often thought of getting that thing out.
The old clock was dismantled and replaced with a more pleasant-sounding one, but he had been struggling financially ever since. Now, he suddenly remembered this matter.
He chuckled, no longer caring; he would sell the annoying clock along with the house.
The people who moved in later must be annoyed by this.
The bell rang again, and he listened intently to the sounds downstairs. Chénier had clearly left the shop. The maid appeared...
The boy wouldn't come. So Baldini went downstairs to open the door.
He unlatched the door and opened the heavy door, but saw nothing. Darkness completely swallowed the candlelight.
Later, he vaguely saw a small figure, a child or a teenager, with a shawl draped over his arm.
What are you wearing?
What do you want to do?
"I come from Master Grimaldi; I brought you goatskins," the figure said, drawing closer and closer, his hand resting on his arm.
Several leather arms reached out to Baldini. In the candlelight, Baldini made out the face of a young boy...
His eyes waited timidly. He huddled up, like someone about to be beaten, hiding behind an outstretched...
It looked like the back of his arm. This boy was Grenouille.
Section 4
Section 4
Goatskin for making Spanish leather! Baldini remembered. He had ordered it from Grimaldi a few days ago.
This leather, so fine and soft, and washable, was intended for Count Villamont's writing pads.
Each item cost fifteen francs, but he didn't need them now; he could save the money. On the other hand, if
He simply sent the boy back...who knows what might happen? Doing so might give a bad impression.
People will gossip, and rumors will spread: Baldini is untrustworthy, Baldini won't accept orders, Baldini...
"Unable to pay..." These are bad words, really bad, because they might prevent the store from selling at a good price. (Akechi Ichi)
The solution was to accept these useless goatskins. They couldn't let people know too early that Giuseppe Baldini was already...
It changed the course of my life.
"Come in!"
He let the boy into the house. They went to the other side of the shop, with Baldini leading the way, holding a candlestick, and Grenouille leading the way.
Wearing leather at the back. This was Grenouille's first time entering a cosmetics store, where the scent wasn't something secondary.
The west was not the focus of attention, but rather the center of people's attention. He certainly recognized all the cosmetics and pharmacy shops in the city; many nights he...
They all stood in front of the shop window, squeezing their noses through the crack in the door. He could recognize the scent of every cosmetic sold in the store.
He had already conceived the most exquisite perfume in his mind from these scents. There was nothing new waiting for him here.
But Grenouille, like a musically gifted child, eagerly hoped to see a band nearby, or perhaps even be taught...
Just as they climbed onto the veranda to look at the organ's keyboard, they also eagerly hoped to visit a cosmetics store inside.
As soon as he heard that leather was to be delivered to Baldini, he tried to get the job himself.
Now he stands in Baldini's shop, right here in Paris, in a small space where a large crowd has gathered.
A special fragrance. In the fleeting candlelight, he didn't see much, only the account room with its scales.
The shadows, two mandarin ducks on the pool, a sofa for customers to sit on, dark shelves on the wall, short brass instruments
A fleeting glint of light, the white labels on the glasses and bowls. He couldn't smell the odor he'd caught coming from the street. But...
He immediately sensed the solemnity occupying these rooms; he almost called it a sacred solemnity, if "sacred" were the word...
If the words still held some meaning for Grenouille; he perceived a cool seriousness, a craftsman's objectivity, a dryness.
His business acumen was displayed on every piece of furniture, every piece of equipment, every large wooden barrel, bottle, and jar. He walked along the road...
Behind Baldini followed Baldini's shadow—because Baldini didn't want to bother lighting his way—his heart...
The thought suddenly arose in him: he belonged here, not anywhere else; he wanted to stay here, he wanted to leave this place.
The child completely transformed the world.
This idea was, of course, absurd and outrageous. For a tanner with a dubious background who had come on his own, it was...
It is said that without connections or protection, without even the most basic hierarchical status, there is nothing, and
In reality, there was nothing that allowed him to have such a luxury: in the most prestigious spice shop in Paris.
Find a job; moreover, as we understand it, this happens just when the store has already decided to close.
However, Grenouille's presumptuous thought revealed not only hope, but also confidence. He knew that he...
He only needed to leave the shop again, go to Grimald to get his clothes, and then never leave again. This goal fueled his blood.
Boiling Point. For years he had remained silent, isolated from the outside world, waiting for his opportunity. Now, regardless of whether things went smoothly or not,
He had already jumped, with no hope of anything. That's why he was so confident this time.
The two men walked through the shop, and Baldini opened the back hall facing the river, which was partly used as a warehouse.
Part of it served as a factory and laboratory, where soap was boiled, balms were stirred, and perfumes were blended in large glass bottles.
"Proceed," Baldini said, pointing to a large table by the window. "The things are right there!"
Grenouille emerged from Baldini's shadow, placed the leather on the table, and then quickly retreated.
He stood between Baldini and the door. Baldini paused for a moment. He moved the candle slightly to the side.