Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 45

           Theyweretheonlymomentswhensomethinglikecheerfulthoughtsformedinsidehisgloomybrain.Strangelyenough,thesethoughtsdidnotlooktowardthefuture.Hedidnotthinkofthescentthathewouldgleaninafewhours,noroftheperfumemadeoftheaurasoftwenty-fivemaidens,noroffutureplans,happiness,andsuccess.No,hethoughtofhispast.Herememberedthestationsofhislife,fromMadameGaillard’shouseandthemoist,warmwoodpileinfrontofittohisjourneytodaytothelittlevillageofLaNapoule,whichsmelledlikefish.HethoughtofGrimalthetanner,ofGiuseppeBaldini,ofthemarquisdeLaTaillade-Espinasse.HethoughtofthecityofParis,ofitsgreateffluvium,thatevilsmellofathousandiridescences;hethoughtoftheredheadedgirlintheruedesMarais,ofopencountry,ofthesparewind,offorests.Hethought,too,ofthemountainintheAuvergne-hedidnotavoidsuchmemoriesintheleast-ofhiscave,oftheairvoidofhumanbeings.Hethoughtofhisdreams.Andhethoughtofallthesethingswithgreatsatisfaction.Yes,itseemedtohimashelookedbackoveritthathewasamantowhomfortunehadbeenespeciallykind,andthatfatehadledhimdownsometortuouspaths,butthatultimatelytheyhadprovedtobetherightones-howelsewouldithavebeenpossibleforhimtohavefoundhiswayhere,intothisdarkchamber,atthegoalofhisdesires?Hewas,nowthathereallyconsideredit,atrulyblessedindividual!Feelingsofhumilityandgratitudewelledupwithinhim

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