human
These marsh people are a poor sort, said Rafaello contemptuously.
gpt
Not that I would take a wife from them, God forbid! Here they have great tracts, with buffalo and wild pig--yes, I have seen them myself, rooting through the wild oak--but have they the brains to invite the foreign _signori_ to hunt there and earn fortunes by it? No. Have they even strength to cut their own timber? Again, no. They lie and shiver with malaria. Not that they are not a little better now, he admitted, shifting the sail so that we looked toward the headlands of Sardinia, a cloud of lateens drifting like gnats between,