Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 8

           HewasjustabouttoleavethisdrearyexhibitionandheadhomewardsalongthegalleryoftheLouvrewhenthewindbroughthimsomething,atiny,hardlynoticeablesomething,acrumb,anatomofscent;no,evenlessthanthat:itwasmorethepremonitionofascentthanthescentitself-andatthesametimeitwasdefinitelyapremonitionofsomethinghehadneversmelledbefore.Hebackedupagainstthewall,closedhiseyes,andflaredhisnostrils.Thescentwassoexceptionallydelicateandfinethathecouldnotholdontoit;itcontinuallyeludedhisperception,wasmaskedbythepowdersmokeofthepetards,blockedbytheexudationsofthecrowd,fragmentedandcrushedbythethousandsofothercityodors.Butthen,suddenly,itwasthereagain,amereshred,thewhiffofamagnificentpremonitionforonlyasecond…anditvanishedatonce.Grenouillesufferedagonies.Forthefirsttime,itwasnotjustthathisgreedynaturewasoffended,buthisveryheartached.Hehadtheprescienceofsomethingextraordinary-thisscentwasthekeyfororderingallodors,onecouldunderstandnothingaboutodorsifonedidnotunderstandthisonescent,andhiswholelifewouldbebungled,ifhe,Grenouille,didnotsucceedinpossessingit.Hehadtohaveit,notsimplyinordertopossessit,butforhishearttobeatpeace.Hewasalmostsickwithexcitement.Hehadnotyetevenfiguredoutwhatdirectionthescentwascomingfrom.Sometimestherewereintervalsofseveralminutesbeforeashredwasagainwaftedhisway,andeachtimehewasovercomebythehorribleanxietythathehadlostitforever.

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