Король расхитителей гробниц - Глава 20
He came to my house to make amends for the time I was insulted by Pelese and his associates. Perhaps God's plan was not at all...
The son wasn't targeting me, but Pellissier! That's entirely possible! If God wanted to punish Pellissier,
What other way is there besides elevating me? Therefore, my happiness is God's just means, and I not only...
It is acceptable and necessary to accept it; one deserves it without the slightest regret...
Baldini had often thought this over the past few years. In the mornings, whenever he went downstairs into the shop, and in the evenings…
Whenever he carried his money box upstairs, counting the heavy gold and silver coins and putting them into his cash register, at night, whenever he...
He thought this as he lay beside his snoring wife, unable to sleep for fear of his own happiness.
But now, those gloomy thoughts are finally gone! That terrible guest is gone, forever.
They would never return. But the wealth remained, and the future was secured. Baldini placed one hand on his chest.
Through the fabric of my coat, I could feel the small notebook pressed against my heart. The notebook contained six hundred molecular formulas, and the stories of generations of fragrance...
The water experts will put them into practice. Even if he loses everything now, with just this wonderful little notebook, he...
He could become a millionaire again within a year. Indeed, what more could he ask for!
The morning sunlight fell on the gable wall of the opposite house, turning it yellow, while also warmly shining on his face.
Up. Baldini continued to gaze south along the road leading towards the Capitol Building—Grenouille was no longer in sight.
How delightful! — And out of overwhelming gratitude, I have decided to cross the river today to adore Notre Dame.
Drop a gold coin into the donation box, light three candles, kneel down and thank God for giving him so much happiness and protecting him.
To avoid retaliation.
But then he encountered something annoying that afternoon. Just as he was about to head to church, rumors spread...
It opened, saying that the British had declared war on France. This was already a disturbing matter. Because of Baldini...
He happened to be planning to send a batch of perfume to London during those days, so he postponed his pilgrimage to Notre Dame Cathedral and instead...
He went to the city to gather information, then to his workshop on the outskirts of San Antoine. The first thing he did was to withdraw the shipments destined for...
Goods from London. Lying in bed that night, shortly before falling asleep, he had a brilliant idea: considering the challenges facing...
Amidst the wars for colonies in the New World, he wanted to produce a perfume and launch it on the market; this perfume was named "Quebec."
"The Magic of the Heroes" is a resin-based perfume for heroes, and its success—that's for sure—will compensate for the loss of the Heroes.
The country lost more than enough on this deal! He rested his head comfortably on the pillow, feeling the weight pressing down beneath it.
He was delighted with the little notebook containing molecular formulas. Master Baldini kept this in his confused, old head.
Sweet thoughts gradually drifted into a dream, and she never woke up again.
A minor disaster occurred that night, which led the king to issue an order after a proper delay:
All houses on all the bridges in Paris must be gradually demolished. This is specifically on the west side of the Pont des Interchange, specifically on the third and fourth bridges.
The bridge piers collapsed for unknown reasons. Two houses collapsed into the river, the entire buildings sinking in, and it happened so suddenly.
So none of the people inside were saved. Fortunately, there were only two people inside: Giuseppe Baldini and his wife.
Zi Qinlesa. Some of the servants were given permission, some not, and all left the house. Chenier said...
He wanted to go back to the shop because the house was no longer there—he had completely broken down. He had held onto hope for thirty years.
Baldani, who had no children or relatives, would name him as his heir in his will, and now all his estate, house,
The shops, raw materials, workshops, Baldini himself, and even the will that might have held sway over the estate of the workshops.
All of this is gone in an instant!
Nothing was found: the two bodies, the money box, and the notebook containing six hundred molecular formulas were all gone.
The only things left behind by Giuseppe Baldini, Europe's greatest perfumer, are matting incense, cork, and vinegar.
The fragrance of lavender and a thousand other spices permeates the Seine River from Paris to Le Havre.
The sky remained overcast for several weeks.
Section 6
Section 6
Grenouille was walking on the road leading to Orléans when Giuseppe Baldini's house collapsed. He had...
Having left the smog of the big city behind, the further he walked from the city, the clearer the air became around him.
Bright, fresh, and clean. The air seemed thinner. There were no longer thousands of different smells, meter by meter.
The land chased each other, changing rapidly, leaving only a few distinct scents—sand roads, grasslands, soil, and vegetation.
The scents of things and water—they drifted slowly across the vast land, disappearing gradually, a few...
It has almost never been interrupted suddenly.
Grenouille felt a sense of liberation from this simplicity. A comforting fragrance wafted towards his nose. He had a life
For the first time since then, I no longer have to prepare to smell a new, unexpected, hostile odor with every breath, or to lose...
A comforting scent. For the first time, he no longer needed to wait for the right moment; he could almost breathe freely. We said, "Several..."
"Hmm," because in reality, of course, no gas actually flowed freely through Grenouille's nose. Even he
There was no reason for him to do so; he always possessed an instinctive reserve, resisting anything from the outside that wanted to enter.
Everything about him. Even in the brief moments of satisfaction, contentment, and perhaps even happiness he felt throughout his life.
In that contrast between exhaling and inhaling, he preferred exhaling—just as his life was not defined by hopeful inhalation, but by the murderer's...
The calls were the same as before. But aside from this physical limitation, Grenouille left Paris.
The farther he went, the more relaxed he felt, the easier his breathing became, and the faster his steps quickened. Occasionally, he even perked up.
He stood up straight, so that from a distance, he looked almost like an ordinary craftsman's apprentice, that is, a perfectly normal person.
people.
His greatest sense of freedom came from being far from people. In Paris, the confined spaces were more liberating than in any other city in the world.
There were even more people living there. At that time, Paris had six or seven hundred thousand people. The streets and squares were packed with people, and all the houses were built underground.
The rooms and even the attic were packed with people. There was hardly a corner in Paris uninhabited, not a single stone, not a single small...
The land no longer smells of people.
Grenouille now understood that it was this condensed vapor of people, like the sweltering air of a thunderstorm, that truly captivated him.
It had suppressed him for eighteen years, and only now did he begin to avoid this vapor. To this day, he still believed it was largely...
The world, and he had to leave it, bowing low. But this was not the world, but the many people. It seems, in this tragic death...
It is possible to live in this sparsely populated world.
On the third day of his trip, he entered the olfactory nerve attraction zone of Orleans. There were some obvious signs that he had already...
Long before reaching the city, Grenouille had noticed the increasingly strong human scent in the air, and he decided to defy his original...
His intention was to avoid Orleans. He was unwilling to let the suffocating air so quickly rob him of his newly regained freedom to breathe.
It was ruined. He took a long detour to avoid the city, reaching the Loire River near Tonave, and crossing near Sully.
The river. He had enough sausages to last him until there. He bought another one, then left the river and headed inland.
He now avoids not only cities but also villages. He feels increasingly isolated, drifting further and further away from others.
The air was intoxicating. Only when he needed to replenish his provisions would he venture towards settlements or secluded houses, buy bread, and then...
He disappeared into the forest. Weeks later, even encountering the few tourists he encountered on remote roads felt like a burden.
He could no longer bear the sight of cutting the first stalks of grass in the meadow. The faint smell of the farmers wafted through the air. He timidly stepped aside.
A flock of sheep, not because of the sheep themselves, but to avoid the shepherd's scent. If he smelled a troop of cavalry approaching...
The place was still several hours away from him, so he went into the fields, willing to take a long detour. This was not...
Because, like other artisan apprentices and vagrants, he feared being inspected, having his documents checked, and being conscripted into the military.
He was unaware that war had broken out—the only reason being his aversion to the humanity of these cavalrymen. Therefore, he...
The plan to take the shortest route to Grasse was merely spontaneous, without any particular determination, and thus gradually faded away.
That is to say, this plan, like all other plans and intentions, dissolved in freedom. —Grenouille
I no longer want to go to a particular place; I just want to get far away from people.
Finally, he only traveled at night. During the day, he hid in the bushes and slept in the remote undergrowth.
He inserted his nose like a wedge into the crook of his elbow, pointing towards the ground, so that even the slightest unfamiliar scent would disturb him.
He had a beautiful dream. He woke up as the sun went down, sniffed around, and when he did indeed smell the last farmer...
Having already left the fields, and with even the most daring travelers having found lodging before nightfall, when the darkness came in ways that people believed to be real...
Only when danger drove the people away from the fields did Grenouille emerge from his hiding place to continue his journey. He did not
It requires light to see. Previously, when he walked during the day, he would often close his eyes for hours, relying solely on his nose to judge distances.
Walking. Seeing the dazzling scenery, the overwhelming sights, the sudden appearances and vivid details.
He felt extremely uncomfortable. The only thing he liked was the moonlight. The moonlight had no color; it simply outlined the terrain faintly.
It covered the earth in a gray gloom, suffocating life for a whole night. In this world that seemed to be cast from lead,
Apart from the wind that sometimes falls like a shadow over the gray woods, nothing moves, except for the bare trees.
The smell of the earth is the only smell of life; this is the only world he acknowledges, because it is the same as...
His spiritual world is similar.
He walked south. Probably south, because he wasn't following the directions of a magnetic compass.
He didn't follow any particular direction, but rather followed the compass of his own nose, which led him around every city and village.
In every settlement, he didn't encounter a single person for weeks.
People are still around at night. Even in the most remote areas, there are people. They just retreat to their homes like rats.
They sleep in their nests. The land is not so pure as to be devoid of their traces, for even in their sleep, it exudes their presence.