Character: Jean-Baptiste Grenouille

For a while he remained sitting in a brooding calm and inhaled the air saturated with incense with deep puffs. Again, a smug sgrin ran down his face. What a pathetic aroma this God has! What a ridiculously bad smell it spreads. What swirled in the censers is not even real incense. It was a bad surrogate, with an admixture of lime coal, and cinnamon, and saltpeter. God stinked. God was a little pathetic stink.