Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 8

           He,inturn,didnotlookather,didnotseeherdelicate,freckledface,herredlips,herlargesparklinggreeneyes,keepinghiseyesclosedtightashestrangledher,forhehadonlyoneconcern-nottolosetheleasttraceofherscent.Whenshewasdeadhelaidheronthegroundamongtheplumpits,toreoffherdress,andthestreamofscentbecameafloodthatinundatedhimwithitsfragrance.Hethrusthisfacetoherskinandswepthisflarednostrilsacrossher,frombellytobreast,toneck,overherfaceandhair,andbacktoherbelly,downtohergenitals,toherthighsandwhitelegs.Hesmelledheroverfromheadtotoe,hegatheredupthelastfragmentsofherscentunderherchin,inhernavel,andinthewrinklesinsideherelbow.Andafterhehadsmelledthelastfadedscentofher,hecrouchedbesideherforawhile,collectinghimself,forhewasbrimfulwithher.Hedidnotwanttospilladropofherscent.Firsthemustsealuphisinnermostcompartments.Thenhestoodupandblewoutthecandle.Meanwhilepeoplewerestartinghome,singingandhurrahingtheirwayuptheruedeSeine.GrenouillesmelledhiswaydownthedarkalleyandoutontotheruedesPetitsAugustins,whichlayparalleltotheruedeSeineandledtotheriver.Alittlewhilelater,thedeadgirlwasdiscovered.Ahueandcryarose.Torcheswerelit.Thewatcharrived.Grenouillehadlongsincegainedtheotherbank.Thatnight,hisclosetseemedtohimapalace,andhisplankbedafour-poster.Neverbeforeinhislifehadheknownwhathappinesswas.Heknewatmostsomeveryrarestatesofnumbedcontentment.

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