Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

           “Why,they’reallhere,alltheonesyouneed,thescents,they’reallhere,inthisroom,”hesaid,pointingagainintothedarkness.“There’sattarofroses!There’sorangeblossom!That’sclove!That’srosemary,there…!”“Certainlythey’rehere!”roaredBaldini.“Theyareallhere.ButI’mtellingyou,youblockhead,thatisofnouseifonedoesnothavetheformula!”“…There’sjasmine!Alcoholthere!Bergamotthere!Storaxthere!”Grenouillewentoncrowing,andateachnamehepointedtoadifferentspotintheroom,althoughitwassodarkthatatbestyoucouldsurmisetheshadowsofthecupboardsfilledwithbottles.“Youcanseeinthedark,canyou?”Baldiniwenton.“Younotonlyhavethebestnose,butalsothekeenesteyesinParis,doyou?Nowifyouhavepassablygoodears,thenopenthemup,becauseI’mtellingyou:youarealittleswindler.YouprobablypickedupyourinformationatPelissier’s,didsomespying,isthatit?Andnowyouthinkyoucanpullthewoolovermyeyes,right?”Grenouillewasnowstandingup,completelyunfoldedtofullsize,sotospeak,inthedoorway,hislegsslightlyapart,hisarmsslightlyspread,sothathelookedlikeablackspiderthathadlatchedontothethresholdandframe.“Givemetenminutes,”hesaidinclosetoanormal,fluentpatternofspeech,“andIwillproduceforyoutheperfumeAmorandPsyche.Rightnow,righthereinthisroom.