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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Just think," the canon would say to Birotteau, "that for twelve consecutive years nothing has ever been amiss, linen in perfect order, bands, albs, surplices; I find everything in its place, always in sufficient quantity, and smelling of orris-root. My furniture is rubbed and kept so bright that I don't know when I have seen any dust did you ever see a speck of it in my rooms?
But, being clear of heart, he said two Aves and went to sleep. And once more did he hear voices, and they were passing sweet; and with them came a fragrance as of crushed herbs, and many kinds of flowers, and frankincense, and orris-root; and Hilarion shook, for he feared lest it be the heathen gods, Mercury, or Macomet, or Apollinis. But he said his prayer and slept.
Some knew what others knew, and others didn't, and if they didn't, then others again had better be careful. Oh dear, she was incompetent! She had a face like a silkworm, and the dining-room reeks of orris-root. We chatted pleasantly a little about husbands, and I wondered where hers was too, and advised her to go to the police. She thanked me. We agreed that Mr.
I recognized her by her perfume before I had even seen her. What delightful things good perfumes are!" "What is it? Is it heliotrope or jessamine?" asked Yvonne d'Etaples, sniffing in the air. "No it is only orris-root nothing but orris-root; but she puts it everywhere about her in the hem of her petticoat, in the lining of her dress. She lives, one might say, in the middle of a sachet.
I recognized her by her perfume before I had even seen her. What delightful things good perfumes are!" "What is it? Is it heliotrope or jessamine?" asked Yvonne d'Etaples, sniffing in the air. "No it is only orris-root nothing but orris-root; but she puts it everywhere about her in the hem of her petticoat, in the lining of her dress. She lives, one might say, in the middle of a sachet.
"Teresa, Sister Cecilia, who is our sacristan, is a little slow; she wants help, you are just the one to help her, and come with me." And Evelyn followed the Prioress into a fragrance of lavender and orris-root; she was shown the vestments laid out on shelves, with tissue-paper between them.
A delightful warmth met me face to face, and I breathed a vague perfume of violets and orris-root, or something akin, with which the air of the room was laden. A charming disorder was apparent, the ball dress was spread upon a lounging-chair, two candles were discreetly burning beneath rose-colored shades.
For the first time she had his whole attention, in the degree to which she was accustomed to having it. "Did you? What was it?" he asked with interest. "A sachet. A little blue silk bag of orris-root powder. There was a whole counterful of them, marked down to fifty cents. I'd never seen any before, and they seemed irresistible. I took one up and wandered about the store with it.
John upstairs she moving rapidly, in a way defiantly followed her into a bedchamber, where a subtle sweetness of orris-root met him; and a fantastic brightness of gaslight and moonlight, coming in through open windows, chequered the handsome dark-polished brass-inlaid furniture, the green silk coverlet and hangings, the dimly patterned ceiling and walls.
The faint odour of orris-root that floated forth as I let down the flap, seemed to identify itself with the yellows and browns of the old wood, till hue and scent were of one quality and interchangeable. Even so, ere this, the pot-pourri had mixed itself with the tints of the old brocade, and brocade and pot-pourri had long been one.
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