Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 51

           Butthosepeoplebelievedthattheydesiredme,andwhattheyreallydesiredremainedamysterytothem.Thenhethoughtnomore,forthinkingwasnothisstrongpoint,andthen,too,hewasalreadyintheOrleanais.HecrossedtheLoireatSully.ThenextdayhehadtheodorofParisinhisnose.OnJune25,1766,atsixinthemorning,heenteredthecityviatherueSaint-Jacques.Itturnedouttobeahotday,thehottestoftheyearthusfar.Thethousandsofodorsandstenchesoozedoutasiffromthousandsoffesteringboils.Notabreezestirred.Thevegetablesinthemarketstallsshriveledup.Meatandfishrotted.Taintedairhunginthenarrowstreets.Eventheriverseemedtohavestoppedflowing,tohavestagnated.Itstank.ItwasadayliketheoneonwhichGrenouillewasborn.HewalkedacrossthePont-Neuftotherightbank,andthendowntoLesHallesandtheCimetieredesInnocents.HesatdowninthearcadesofthecharnelhouseborderingtherueauxFers.Beforehimlaythecemeterygroundslikeacrateredbattlefield,burrowedandditchedandtrenchedwithgraves,sownwithskullsandbones,notatree,bush,orbladeofgrass,agarbagedumpofdeath.Notasoulwastobeseen.Thestenchofcorpseswassoheavythateventhegravediggershadretreated.Onlyafterthesunhadgonedowndidtheycomeoutagaintoscoopoutholesforthedeadbytorchlightuntillateintothenight.Butthenaftermidnight-thegravediggershadleftbythen-theplacecamealivewithallsortsofriffraff:thieves,murderers,cutthroats,whores,deserters,youngdesperadoes.

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