Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 5

           Heunderstoodit,too,forhehadoftenbeensenttofetchwoodinwinter.Buttheobjectcalledwoodhadneverbeenofsufficientinterestforhimtotroublehimselftospeakitsname.IthappenedfirstonthatMarchdayashesatonthecordofwood,ThecordwasstackedbeneathoverhangingeavesandformedakindofbenchalongthesouthsideofMadamGaillard’sshed.Thetoplogsgaveoffasweetburntsmell,andupfromthedepthsofthecordcameamossyaroma;andinthewarmsun,bitsofresinodorcrumbledfromthepinewoodplankingoftheshed.Grenouillesatonthelogs,hislegsoutstretchedandhisbackleanedagainstthewalloftheshed.Hehadclosedhiseyesanddidnotstir.Hesawnothing,heheardnothing,hefeltnothing.Heonlysmelledthearomaofthewoodrisinguparoundhimtobecapturedunderthebonnetoftheeaves.Hedrankinthearoma,hedrownedinit,impregnatinghimselfthroughhisinnermostpores,untilhebecamewoodhimself;helayonthecordofwoodlikeawoodenpuppet,likePinocchio,asifdead,untilafteralongwhile,perhapsahalfhourormore,hegaggeduptheword“wood.”Hevomitedthewordup,asifhewerefilledwithwoodtohisears,asifburiedinwoodtohisneck,asifhisstomach,hisgorge,hisnosewerespillingoverwithwood.Andthatbroughthimtohimself,rescuedhimonlymomentsbeforetheoverpoweringpresenceofthewood,itsaroma,wasabouttosuffocatehim.Heshookhimself,sliddownoffthelogs,andtotteredawayasifonwoodenlegs.

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