Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 15

           Nothingmorewasneeded.True,Baldinirantedon,railedandcursed,butwitheverybreathhisoutwardshowofragefoundlessandlessinnernourishment.Hesensedhehadbeenprovedwrong,whichwaswhyhisperorationcouldonlysoartoemptypathos.Andwhenhefellsilent,hadbeensilentforagoodwhile,hehadnoneedofGrenouille’sremark:“It’salldone.”Heknewthatalready.Butnevertheless,althoughinthemeantimeairheavywithAmorandPsychewasundulatingallabouthim,hesteppeduptotheoldoaktabletomakehistest.Hepulledafreshsnowywhitelacehandkerchieffromhiscoatpocket,theleftone,unfoldeditandsprinkleditwithafewdropsthatheextractedfromthemixingbottlewiththelongpipette.Hewavedthehandkerchiefwithoutstretchedarmtoaerateitandthenpulleditpasthisnosewiththedelicate,well-practicedmotion,soakingupitsscent.Lettingitoutagaininlittlepuffs,hesatdownonastool.Wherebeforehisfacehadbeenbrightredwitheruptinganger,allatoncehehadgrownpale.“Incredible,”hemurmuredsoftlytohimself,“byGod—incredible.”Andhepressedthehandkerchieftohisnoseagainandagainandsniffedandshookhisheadandmuttered,“Incredible.”ItwasAmorandPsyche,beyondtheshadowofadoubtAmorandPsyche,thatdespicable,ingeniousblendofscents,soexactlycopiedthatnotevenPelissierhimselfwouldhavebeenabletodistinguishitfromhisownproduct.

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