Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 45

           “Ithankyou,”hesaidsoftly,“Ithankyou,Jean-BaptisteGrenouille,forbeingwhatyouare!”Sotouchedwashebyhimself.Thenhiseyelidsclosed-notforsleep,butsothathecouldsurrenderhimselfcompletelytothepeaceofthisholynight.Thepeacefilledhisheart.Butitseemedalsoasifitreignedallabouthim.Hesmelledthepeacefulsleepofthemaidintheadjoiningroom,thedeepcontentmentofAntoineRichis’ssleepontheothersideofthecorridor;hesmelledthepeacefulslumberoftheinnkeeperandhisservants,ofthedogs,oftheanimalsintheirstalls,ofthewholevillage,andofthesea.Thewindhaddiedaway.Everythingwasstill.Nothingdisturbedthepeace.OnceheturnedhisfoottoonesideandeversosoftlytouchedLaure’sfoot.Notactuallyherfoot,butsimplythecloththatenvelopeditandbeneaththatthethinlayerofoildrinkingupherscent,hergloriousscent,hisscent.

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