Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 14

           Andyet,justasamusicallygiftedchildburnstoseeanorchestraupcloseortoclimbintothechurchchoirwheretheorgankeyboardlieshidden,Grenouilleburnedtoseeaperfumeryfromtheinside;andwhenhehadheardthatleatherwastobedeliveredtoBaldini,hehaddoneallhecouldtomakesurethathewouldbetheonetodeliverit.AndherehestoodinBaldini’sshop,ontheonespotinPariswiththegreatestnumberofprofessionalscentsassembledinonesmallspace.Hecouldnotseemuchinthefleetinglightofthecandle,onlybriefglimpsesoftheshadowsthrownbythecounterwithitsscales,thetwoheronsabovethevessel,anarmchairforthecustomers,thedarkcupboardsalongthewalls,thebriefflashofbronzeutensilsandwhitelabelsonbottlesandcrucibles;norcouldhesmellanythingbeyondwhathecouldalreadysmellfromthestreet.Butheatoncefelttheseriousnessthatreignedintheserooms,youmightalmostcallitaholyseriousness,iftheword“holy”hadheldanymeaningwhateverforGrenouille;forhecouldfeelthecoldseriousness,thecraftsmanlikesobriety,thestaidbusinesssensethatadheredtoeverypieceoffurniture,everyutensil,totubs,bottles,andpots.AndashewalkedbehindBaldini,inBaldini’sshadow-forBaldinididnottakethetroubletolighthisway-hewasovercomebytheideathathebelongedhereandnowhereelse,thathewouldstayhere,thatfromherehewouldshaketheworldfromitsfoundations.Theideawas,ofcourse,oneofperfectlygrotesqueimmodesty.

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