Young Gerard de Langeais, her betrothed, was furious with jealousy, and just after the dawn, neither of us having yet slept, we fought with swords behind the live oaks.

I was not in love with Flora and she was not in love with me, but de Langeais thought we were, and would not listen to my claim of kinship.
"I received a glorious little scratch on my left side and he suffered an equally glorious little puncture in his right arm.

The seconds declared enough.

Then we fell into the arms of each other and became friends for life.

A year later I went back to New Orleans, and I was the best man at the wedding of Gerard and Flora, one of the happiest and handsomest pairs I ever saw, God bless 'em.