Парфюмер. История одного убийцы

           Maitre,givemejustfiveminutes!”“DoyousupposeI’dletyousloparoundhereinmylaboratory?Withessencesthatareworthafortune?You?”“Yes,”saidGrenouille.“Bah!”Baldinishouted,exhalingallatonceeverybitofairhehadinhim.ThenhetookadeepbreathandalonglookatGrenouillethespider,andthoughtitover.Basicallyitmakesnodifference,hethought,becauseitwillallbeovertomorrowanyway.Iknowforafactthathecan’tdowhatheclaimshecan,can’tpossiblydoit.Why,thatwouldmakehimgreaterthanthegreatFrangipani.Butwhyshouldn’tIlethimdemonstratebeforemyeyeswhatIknowtobetrue?ItispossiblethatsomedayinMessina-peopledogrowverystrangeinoldageandtheirmindsfixonthecraziestideas-I’llgetthenotionthatIhadfailedtorecognizeanolfactorygenius,acreatureuponwhomthegraceofGodhadbeenpouredoutinsuperabundance,awunderkind…It’stotallyoutofthequestion.Everythingmyreasontellsmesaysitisoutofthequestion-butmiraclesdohappen,thatiscertain.Sowhatif,whenIliedyinginMessinasomeday,thethoughtcomestomethereonmydeathbed:Onthatevening,backinParis,Ishutmyeyestoamiracle…?Thatwouldnotbeverypleasant,Baldini.Letthefoolwasteafewdropsofattarofrosesandmusktincture;youwouldhavewastedthemyourselfifPelissier’sperfumehadstillinterestedyou.Andwhatareafewdrops-thoughexpensiveones,very,veryexpensive!-comparedtocertainknowledgeandapeacefuloldage?“Nowpayattention!”hesaidwithanaffectedlysternvoice.