Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 1

           Itwasoneofthehottestdaysoftheyear.Theheatlayleadenuponthegraveyard,squeezingitsputrefyingvapor,ablendofrottingmelonandthefetidodorofburntanimalhorn,outintothenearbyalleys.Whenthelaborpainsbegan,Grenouille’smotherwasstandingatafishstallintherueauxFers,scalingwhitingthatshehadjustgutted.Thefish,ostensiblytakenthatverymorningfromtheSeine,alreadystanksovilelythatthesmellmaskedtheodorofcorpses.Grenouille’smother,however,perceivedtheodorneitherofthefishnorofthecorpses,forhersenseofsmellhadbeenutterlydulled,besideswhichherbellyhurt,andthepaindeadenedallsusceptibilitytosensateimpressions.Sheonlywantedthepaintostop,shewantedtoputthisrevoltingbirthbehindherasquicklyaspossible.Itwasherfifth.Shehadeffectedalltheothershereatthefishbooth,andallhadbeenstillbirthsorsemi-stillbirths,forthebloodymeatthathademergedhadnotdifferedgreatlyfromthefishgutsthatlaytherealready,norhadlivedmuchlonger,andbyeveningthewholemesshadbeenshoveledawayandcartedofftothegraveyardordowntotheriver.

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