Coupeau offered his services. _Mon Dieu!_ it was very simple. You caught hold of the limbs, and pulled them off; the pieces were good all the same. But the others protested; they forcibly took possession of the large kitchen knife which the zinc-worker already held in his hand, saying that whenever he carved he made a regular graveyard of the platter. Finally, Madame Lerat suggested in a friendly tone: “Listen, it should be Monsieur Poisson; yes, Monsieur Poisson.” But, as the others did not appear to understand, she added in a more flattering manner still: “Why, yes, of course, it should be Monsieur Poisson, who’s accustomed to the use of arms.” And she passed the kitchen knife to the policeman. All round the table they laughed with pleasure and approval. Poisson bowed his head with military stiffness, and moved the goose before him. When he thrust the knife into the goose, which cracked, Lorilleux was seized with an outburst of patriotism. “Ah! if it was a Cossack!” he cried. “Have you ever fought with Cossacks, Monsieur Poisson?” asked Madame Boche. “No, but I have with Bedouins,” replied the policeman, who was cutting off a wing. “There are no more Cossacks.” A great silence ensued. Necks were stretched out as every eye followed the knife. Poisson was preparing a surprise. Suddenly he gave a last cut; the hind-quarter of the bird came off and stood up on end, rump in the air, making a bishop’s mitre. Then admiration burst forth. None were so agreeable in company as retired soldiers. The policeman allowed several minutes for the company to admire the bishop’s mitre and then finished cutting the slices and arranging them on the platter. The carving of the goose was now complete. When the ladies complained that they were getting rather warm, Coupeau opened the door to the street and the gaiety continued against the background of cabs rattling down the street and pedestrians bustling along the pavement. The goose was attacked furiously by the rested jaws. Boche remarked that just having to wait and watch the goose being carved had been enough to make the veal and pork slide down to his ankles.