Claude saw that Cartier had over-shot the mark, and so came to the rescue.
"The Sieur de Roberval," he said, "must pardon good Master Cartier. He has so long been bringing home the wealth of other lands that he is inclined to think of the value of a country by the amount of wealth it can put into the treasury of France."
"A very laudable way of thinking, and one of which good King Francis would be the first to approve," replied the nobleman in a gentler tone.
"Yes," said Claude, "but not the only thing to consider. This commerce gives us the greatest opportunity any people has ever had. The whole New World is steeped in the most degrading paganism. The Indians have no notion of God, or the Blessed Virgin, or of Christ. And, Sieur, while the treasure from the streams and the forest may bring us reward on earth, the countless souls we may lead to heaven will win us crowns in eternity."
Claude was not a hypocrite. He had begun to speak of the spiritual side of the enterprise with the special purpose of buttressing Cartier's argument; but he was a devout Catholic, and his lips only echoed what was in his heart.
"Pontbriand," replied Roberval, "you plead like a holy father. We shall have to shave your head and give you a black robe. But there is something in what you say; though to propagate Christianity effectively in such a land would require enormous wealth."
"True, most noble Sieur," said Cartier hastily, "and if the forest and the stream do not yield sufficient we must dig it out of the earth."
"What mean you? Have you further information about the mineral wealth of the New World? The last you gave me was of little value. Your precious metal has proved to be less valuable than lead, and your diamonds but quartz. See," he said, rising, "how this acid affects your gold."
He took from a shelf a piece of metal which Cartier had sent to him.
"La Pommeraye," he said, "you will have to be a right hand for me, and uncork this vial."