Had Raoul assumed a theatrical tone and manner, as might have been expected, probably it would have made very little impression on Cuffe; but his quiet simplicity and steadiness carried conviction with them.  To say the truth, the captain was disappointed.  He would have hesitated about making his proposition to an officer of the regular French marine, low as even these stood, at that day, in the estimation of Nelson’s fleet in particular; but from a privateersman he expected a greedy acquiescence in a plan that offered life as a reward, in exchange for a treachery like that he proposed.  At first he felt disposed to taunt Raoul with the contradiction between what he, Cuffe, conceived to be his general pursuits, and his present assumption of principles; but the unpretending calmness of the other’s manner, and the truth of his feelings, prevented it.  Then, to do Cuffe himself justice, he was too generous to abuse the power be had over his prisoner.

“You may do well to think of this, Monsieur Yvard,” observed the captain, after a pause of quite a minute.  “The interest at stake is so heavy, that reflection may yet induce you to change your mind.”

“Monsieur Cuffe, I pardon you, if you can pardon yourself,” answered Raoul, with severe dignity in his manner, rising as he spoke, as if disdaining civilities which came from his tempter.  “I know what you think of us corsairs—­but an officer in an honorable service should hesitate long before he tempts a man to do an act like this.  The fact that the life of your prisoner is at stake ought to make a brave seaman still more delicate how he tries to work on his terrors or his principles.  But, I repeat, I forgive you, Monsieur, if you can forgive yourself.”

Cuffe stood confounded.  The blood rushed to his heart; after which, it appeared as if about to gush through the pores of his face.  A feeling of fierce resentment almost consumed him; then he became himself again, and began to see things as was his wont in cooler moments.  Still he could not speak, pacing the cabin to recover his self-command.

“Monsieur Yvard,” he at length said, “I ask your forgiveness sincerely, and from the bottom of my heart.  I did not know you, or such a proposal would never have insulted you, or disgraced a British officer, in my person.  Nelson, too, is the last man living to wound the feelings of an honorable enemy; but we did not know you.  All privateersmen are not of your way of thinking, and it was there we fell into our mistake.”

“Touchez-la,” said Raoul, frankly extending his hand.  “Monsieur le Capitaine, you and I ought to meet in two fine frigates, each for his country’s honor; let what would be the result, it would lay the foundations of an eternal friendship.  I have lived long enough in votre Angleterre to understand how little you know notre France; mais n’importe. Brave men can understand one another all over the world; for the little time which is left me, we shall be friends.”