Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 39

           AndfortherestofmylifeIwillfeedonitinmymemory,justasIwasfeedingrightnowfromthepremonitionofwhatIwillpossess…WhatdoIneeditforatall?ThiswasamostunpleasantthoughtforGrenouille.Itfrightenedhimbeyondmeasuretothinkthatoncehedidpossessthescentthathedidnotyetpossess,hemustinevitablyloseit.Howlongcouldhekeepit?Afewdays?Afewweeks?Perhapsawholemonth,ifheperfumedhimselfverysparinglywithit?Andthen?Hesawhimselfshakingthelastdropsfromthebottle,rinsingtheflaconwithalcoholsothatthelastlittlebitwouldnotbelost,andthenhesaw,smelled,howhisbelovedscentwouldvanishintheair,irrevocably,forever.Itwouldbelikealongslowdeath,akindofsuffocationinreverse,anagonizinggradualself-evaporationintothewretchedworld.Hefeltchilled.Hewasovercomewithadesiretoabandonhisplans,towalkoutintothenightanddisappear.Hewouldwanderacrossthesnow-coveredmountains,notpausingtorest,hundredsofmilesintotheAuvergne,andtherecreepintohisoldcaveandfallasleepanddie.Buthedidnotdoit.Hesatthereanddidnotyieldtohisdesire,althoughitwasstrong.Hedidnotyield,becausethatdesirewasanoldoneofhis,torunawayandhideinacave.Heknewaboutthatalready.Whathedidnotyetknowwaswhatitwasliketopossessahumanscentassplendidasthescentofthegirlbehindthewall.

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