I have no second. Will _you_ be my second?'

Pantaleone started and raised his eyebrows so high that they were lost
under his overhanging hair.

'You are absolutely obliged to fight?' he said at last in Italian;
till that instant he had made use of French.

'Absolutely. I can't do otherwise--it would mean disgracing myself for
ever.'

'H'm. If I don't consent to be your second you will find some one
else.'

'Yes ... undoubtedly.'

Pantaleone looked down. 'But allow me to ask you, Signor de Tsanin,
will not your duel throw a slur on the reputation of a certain lady?'

'I don't suppose so; but in any case, there's no help for it.'

'H'm!' Pantaleone retired altogether into his cravat. 'Hey, but that
_ferroflucto Klueberio_--what's he about?' he cried all of a sudden,
looking up again.

'He? Nothing.'

'_Che_!' Pantaleone shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. 'I have, in
any case, to thank you,' he articulated at last in an unsteady voice
'that even in my present humble condition you recognise that I am a