child. During my
trip around the world, I had observed that the more man's body was
covered by hair, the more ape-like he appeared, especially when
decorating his face with it, and I was certain that my appearance was
just as ludicrous in the eyes of Arletta as those I had seen. Therefore
my admiration for the stately objects portrayed in the picture was
beginning to turn into hatred. I inwardly wished they were alive that I
might have an opportunity to combat with one or all of them in order to
show Arletta that I possessed the courage to fight until death for her
love. While lost in the midst of such reflections Arletta turned her
gaze upon me fixedly and said: "What barbaric thoughts have you
permitted to enter your mind now?" "I was wishing," replied I rather
sullenly, "that the man you love in that picture was alive, that I might
have the chance to demonstrate my worth in a fight to secure your favor;
perhaps, then, you would discover that I had some good qualities."

"And do you suppose if I saw you fighting like a savage bulldog that I
would admire those brutish tendencies in your nature?" inquired she. "Do
you think that the animal instincts of fighting and killing are good
qualities to possess? Has your trip around the world borne no good
results? You have observed that your own species, like other savage
beasts, quarrel, fight, maim and kill each other through selfish
motives, and you have condemned them for it; now you would continue to
do the very same thing yourself and think that I would consider it
courageous. According to one of our primitive laws, the courageous man
was he who feared no one and caused no one to fear him. These men of the
picture were the bravest of the brave, and still if one of them were
alive today he would not fight with you, no matter how much you might
ill use him, for he would know that it required more real strength to
take abuse than to give it. He would suffer more pain if he hurt you
than if you injured him. And still he could have crushed you with
greater ease than a cat can a mouse, if he were cowardly enough to do
it. That is the real courage of unselfishness--the kind your species
cannot understand. Your fellow beings applaud cowardice which they
mistake for strength of character. They seem unable to comprehend that
it requires far more courage to suffer pain than to inflict it upon
others. They have inherited their erroneous ideas from the wild beasts
who preceded them, a