u've come just at the right time!" exclaimed Gervaise. "Mother
Coupeau, do show her the bird."

And mother Coupeau went a second time and fetched the goose, which
Virginie had to take in her hands. She uttered no end of exclamations.
By Jove! It was heavy! But she soon laid it down on the work-table,
between a petticoat and a bundle of shirts. Her thoughts were elsewhere.
She dragged Gervaise into the back-room.

"I say, little one," murmured she rapidly, "I've come to warn you.
You'll never guess who I just met at the corner of the street. Lantier,
my dear! He's hovering about on the watch; so I hastened here at once.
It frightened me on your account, you know."

The laundress turned quite pale. What could the wretched man want with
her? Coming, too, like that, just in the midst of the preparations for
the feast. She had never had any luck; she could not even be allowed to
enjoy herself quietly. But Virginie replied that she was very foolish to
put herself out about it like that. Why! If Lantier dared to follow her
about, all she had to do was to call a policeman and have him locked up.
In the month since her husband had been appointed a policeman, Virginie
had assumed rather lordly manners and talked of arresting everybody. She
began to raise her voice, saying that she wished some passer-by would
pinch her bottom so that she could take the fresh fellow to the police
station herself and turn him over to her husband. Gervaise signaled her
to be quiet since the workwomen were listening and led the way back into
the shop, reopening the discussion about the dinner.

"Now, don't we need a vegetable?"

"Why not peas with bacon?" said Virginie. "I like nothing better."

"Yes, peas with bacon." The others approved. Augustine was so
enthusiastic that she jabbed the poker into the stove harder than ever.

By three o'clock on the morrow, Sunday, mother Coupeau had lighted their
two stoves and also a third one of earthenware which they had borrowed
from the Boches. At half-past three the pot-au-feu was boiling away in
an enormous earthenware pot lent by the eating-house keeper next door,
the family pot having been found too small. They had decided to cook the
veal and the pig's back the night before, since both of those dishes
are better when reheated. But the cream sauce for the veal would not be
prepared until just before sitting down for the feast.

There was still plenty of work left for Monday: the soup, the peas with