I have been affronted by a fellow officer, and we fight at three this afternoon.

Lie down and sleep, now, and think no more about it." She kissed him good night and lay down paralyzed with grief and fear, but said nothing.

But she did not sleep; she prayed and mourned till the first streak of dawn, then fled to the nearest church and implored the Virgin for help; and from that church she went to another and another and another; church after church, and still church after church, and so spent all the day until three o'clock on her knees in agony and tears; then dragged herself home and sat down comfortless and desolate, to count the minutes, and wait, with an outward show of calm, for what had been ordained for her--happiness, or endless misery.

Presently she heard the clank of a sabre--she had not known before what music was in that sound!--and her son put his head in and said: "X was in the wrong, and he apologized." So that incident was closed; and for the rest of her life the mother will always find something pleasant about the clank of a sabre, no doubt.
In one of my listed duels--however, let it go, there is nothing particularly striking about it except that the seconds interfered.
And prematurely, too, for neither man was dead.

This was certainly irregular.