It is an insult

Edmond Dantes:

Is this your semaphore station? Semaphore Station Worker:
Mine? I work it. I've done for many years, but I never have any visitors. Edmond Dantes:
How does it work? Semaphore Station Worker:
There is another one on the far horizon. That's my right hand correspondent. And there is my left hand. When I receive a message... [pantomiming with his arms] Semaphore Station Worker:
...from right, I transmit it to left. Thus, our messages from Spain transmitted all the way to Paris in a matter of hours. Edmond Dantes:
A modern miracle. [offering him money and a piece of paper] Edmond Dantes:
3,000 francs. Five years' pay if you relay this message to Paris. Semaphore Station Worker:
[reading it]
But this is... not official. [Edmond offers him the money again] Semaphore Station Worker:
You insult me, sir. [taking it] Semaphore Station Worker:
It is an insult