"Have I not already told you," he rejoined, "that my mind is not
affected by my illness? Geoffrey anxious about me! Anxiety is one of the
civilized emotions. Man in his savage state is incapable of feeling it."
"My brother is not a savage, Sir."
"His stomach is generally full, and his skin is covered with linen and
cloth, instead of red ochre and oil. So far, certainly, your brother is
civilized. In all other respects your brother is a savage."
"I know what you mean, Sir. But there is something to be said for
Geoffrey's way of life. He cultivates his courage and his strength.
Courage and strength are fine qualities, surely, in their way?"
"Excellent qualities, as far as they go. If you want to know how far
that is, challenge Geoffrey to write a sentence of decent English, and
see if his courage doesn't fail him there. Give him his books to read
for his degree, and, strong as he is, he will be taken ill at the sight
of them. You wish me to see your brother. Nothing will induce me to see
him, until his way of life (as you call it) is altered altogether. I
have but one hope of its ever being altered now. It is barely possible
that the influence of a sensible woman--possessed of such advantages
of birth and fortune as may compel respect, even from a savage--might
produce its effect on Geoffrey.
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