Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

Chapter 14

           Therewasnothing,absolutelynothing,thatcouldjustifyastraytanner’shelperofdubiousorigin,withoutconnectionsorprotection,withouttheleastsocialstanding,tohopethathewouldgetsomuchasatoeholdinthemostrenownedperfumeshopinParis-allthelessso,sinceweknowthatthedecisionhadbeenmadetodissolvethebusiness.ButwhathadformedinGrenouille’simmodestthoughtswasnot,afterall,amatterofhope,butofcertainty.HeknewthattheonlyreasonhewouldleavethisshopwouldbetofetchhisclothesfromGrimal’s,andthenneveragain.Thetickhadscentedblood.Ithadbeendormantforyears,encapsulated,andhadwaited.Nowitletitselfdrop,forbetterorforworse,entirelywithouthope.Andthatwaswhyhewassocertain.Theyhadcrossedthroughtheshop.Baldiniopenedthebackroomthatfacedtheriverandservedpartlyasastoreroom,partlyasaworkshopandlaboratorywheresoapswerecooked,pomadesstirred,andtoiletwatersblendedinbig-belliedbottles.“There!”hesaid,pointingtoalargetableinfrontofthewindow,“laythemthere!”GrenouillesteppedoutfromBaldini’sshadow,laidtheleatheronthetable,butquicklyjumpedbackagain,placinghimselfbetweenBaldiniandthedoor.Baldinistoodthereforawhile.Heheldthecandletoonesidetopreventthewaxfromdrippingonthetableandstrokedthesmoothsurfaceoftheskinswiththebackofhisfingers.Thenhepulledbackthetoponeandranhishandacrossthevelvetyreverseside,roughandyetsoftatthesametime.Theywereverygoodgoatskins.JustmadeforSpanishleather.

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