D'Ogeron was wistfully sardonic. 'You imagine, in spite of all that I have said, that you could have persuaded this coxcomb of his folly?'
'There is nothing of which a man cannot be persuaded if the proper arguments are put before him in the proper manner.'
'I tell you that I put before him all the arguments that exist.'
'No, no. You presented only those that occurred to you.'
'If you mean that I should have put a pistol to the head of this insufferable puppy…'
'Oh, my friend! That is not an argument. It is a constraint. We are all of us self–interested, and none are more so than those who, like this Chevalier de Saintonges, are ready to accuse others of that fault. An appeal to his interests might have been persuasive.'
'Perhaps. But what do I know of his interests?'
'What do you know of them? Oh, but think. Have you not, yourself, just told me that he lately married the widow of Hommaire de Veynac? That gives him great West Indian interests. You spoke vaguely and generally of Spanish raids upon the settlements of other nations. You should have been more particular. You should have dwelt upon the possibility of a raid upon wealthy Martinique. That would have given him to think. And now he's gone, and the chance is lost.'
But d'Ogeron would see no reason for sharing any regrets of that lost opportunity.
'His obstinacy would have prevented him from taking fright. He would not have listened. The last thing he said to me before he sailed for Port au Prince…'