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.