Then she told them about herself. She did not wish Rose's wedding to take place at Sainte-Adresse--certainly not. It should take place at her house and would cost her father nothing. She had settled everything and arranged everything, so it was “no good to say any more about it--there!” “Very well, my dear! very well!” the old man said; “we will leave it so.” But then he felt some doubt. Would the Touchards consent? But Rose, the bride-elect, was surprised and asked: “Why should they object, I should like to know? Just leave that to me; I will talk to Philip about it.” She mentioned it to her lover the very same day, and he declared it would suit him exactly. Father and Mother Touchard were naturally delighted at the idea of a good dinner which would cost them nothing and said: “You may be quite sure that everything will be in first-rate style.” They asked to be allowed to bring a friend, Madame Florence, the cook on the first floor, and Anna agreed to everything. The wedding was fixed for the last Tuesday of the month. After the civil formalities and the religious ceremony the wedding party went to Anna's house. Among those whom the Tailles had brought was a cousin of a certain age, a Monsieur Sauvetanin, a man given to philosophical reflections, serious, and always very self-possessed, and Madame Lamondois, an old aunt. Monsieur Sautevanin had been told off to give Anna his arm, as they were looked upon as the two most important persons in the company. As soon as they had arrived at the door of Anna's house she let go her companion's arm, and ran on ahead, saying: “I will show you the way,” and ran upstairs while the invited guests followed more slowly; and, when they got upstairs, she stood on one side to let them pass, and they rolled their eyes and turned their heads in all directions to admire this mysterious and luxurious dwelling. The table was laid in the drawing-room, as the dining-room had been thought too small. Extra knives, forks and spoons had been hired from a neighboring restaurant, and decanters stood full of wine under the rays of the sun which shone in through the window. The ladies went into the bedroom to take off their shawls and bonnets, and Father Touchard, who was standing at the door, made funny and suggestive signs to the men, with many a wink and nod. Daddy Taille, who thought a great deal of himself, looked with fatherly pride at his child's well-furnished rooms and went from one to the other, holding his hat in his hand, making a mental inventory of everything, and walking like a verger in a church. Anna went backward and forward, ran about giving orders and hurrying on the wedding feast. Soon she appeared at the door of the dining-room and cried: “Come here, all of you, for a moment,” and as the twelve guests entered the room they saw twelve glasses of Madeira on a small table.