Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 2

           “Lotsofthingssmellgood.Abouquetoflavendersmellsgood.Stewmeatsmellsgood.ThegardensofArabiasmellgood.Butwhatdoesababysmelllike,iswhatIwanttoknow.”Thewetnursehesitated.Sheknewverywellhowbabiessmell,sheknewprecisely-afterallshehadfed,tended,cradled,andkisseddozensofthem…Shecouldfindthematnightwithhernose.Why,rightatthatmomentsheborethatbabysmellclearlyinhernose.Butneveruntilnowhadshedescribeditinwords.“Well?”barkedTerrier,clickinghisfingernailsimpatiently.“Wellit’s-”thewetnursebegan,“it’snotallthateasytosay,because…becausetheydon’tsmellthesameallover,althoughtheysmellgoodailover,Father,youknowwhatImean?Theirfeet,forinstance,theysmelllikeasmooth,warmstone-orno,morelikecurds…orlikebutter,likefreshbutter,that’sitexactly.Theysmelllikefreshbutter.Andtheirbodiessmelllike…likeagriddlecakethat’sbeensoakedinmilk.Andtheirheads,upontop,atthebackofthehead,wherethehairmakesacowlick,there,seewhereImean,Father,therewhereyou’vegotnothingleft…”Andshetappedthebaldspotontheheadofthemonk,who,struckspeechlessforamomentbythisfloodofdetailedinanity,hadobedientlybenthisheaddown.“There,rightthere,iswheretheysmellbestofall.Itsmellslikecaramel,itsmellssosweet,sowonderful,Father,youhavenoidea!Onceyou’vesmelledthemthere,youlovethemwhetherthey’reyourownorsomebodyelse’s.Andthat’showlittlechildrenhavetosmell-andnootherway

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