The Atlantic Monthly, volume 06, No. 38, December, 1860
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Yet, for all that, I shall not find the NewYork avenues lined with them. " "No; the houses there are palaces. " "I suppose, then, I am to live in a palace, " she answered, with a lighttinkling laugh. "That is fine; but one may miss the verandas, all thewhiteness and coolness. How one must feel the roof!" "Roofs should be screens, and not prisons, not shells, you think?" saidMr. Raleigh. "At home, " she replied, "our houses are, so to say, parasols; in thosecities they must be iron shrouds. _Ain...si soit il!_" she added, andshrugged her shoulders like a little fatalist. "You must not take it with such desperation; perhaps you will not beobliged to wear the shroud. " "Not long, to be sure, at first. We go to freeze in the country, a placewith distant hills of blue ice, my old nurse told me, --old Ursule. Oh, Sir, she was drowned! I saw the very wave that swept her off!" "That was your servant?" "Yes. " "Then, perhaps, I have some good news for you. She was tall and large?" "_Oui_. " "Her name was Ursule?" "_Oui!
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