Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 26

           Itreallywastoopleasant,thisvolcanicactthatextinguishedallobnoxiousodors,reallytoopleasant…Thiswasalmosthisfavoriteroutineinthewholerepertoireofhisinnermostuniversaltheater,foritimpartedtohimthewonderfulsenseofrighteousexhaustionthatcomesafteronlytrulygrandheroicdeeds.Nowhecouldrestawhileingoodconscience.Hestretchedout-totheextenthisbodyfitwithinthenarrowstonyquarters.Deepinside,however,onthecleanlysweptmatsofhissoul,hestretchedoutcomfortablytothefullestanddozedaway,lettingdelicatescentsplayabouthisnose:aspicygust,forinstance,asifborneherefromspringtimemeadows;amildMaywindwaftingthroughthefirstgreenleavesofbeech;aseabreeze,withthebitternessofsaltedalmonds.Itwaslateafternoonwhenhearose—somethinglikelateafternoon,fornaturallytherewasnoafternoonorforenoonoreveningormorning,therewasneitherlightnordarkness,norweretherespringmeadowsnorgreenbeechleaves…therewerenorealthingsatallinGrenouille’sinnermostuniverse,onlytheodorsofthings.(Whichiswhythefafondeparlerspeaksofthatuniverseasalandscape;anadequateexpression,tobesure,buttheonlypossibleone,sinceourlanguageisofnousewhenitcomestodescribingthesmellableworld.)Itwas,then,lateafternoon:thatis,aconditionandamomentwithinGrenouille’ssoulsuchasreignsoverthesouthwhenthesiestaisdoneandtheparalysisofmiddayslowlyrecedesandlife’surgebeginsagainaftersuchconstraint.

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