Monsieur Bonticu's shrug contained more regret than a hundred words could convey.
"Alas, it will be impossible, Messieurs," he said, with a deep bow.
"Impossible?"
"But yes. I assure Messieurs that nothing would give me more exquisite pleasure than to grant this gentleman"—he stressed this word—"the satisfaction that his honor"—he also stressed this word—"appears to demand. However, it is impossible."
The seconds and Monsieur Pantan looked at Monsieur Bonticu and at each other.
"But this is monstrous," exclaimed the chief second. "Is it that Monsieur refuses to fight?"
Monsieur Bonticu's slowly shaken head indicated most poignant regret.
"But no, Messieurs," he said. "I do not refuse. Is it not a question of honor? Am I not a sportsman? But, alas, I am forbidden to fight."
"Forbidden."