But Rose pressed her.

"Yes, go on, dear," she said, "I seem to see your pretty little thoughts rising out of your heart like a bubbling fountain: go on." Thus encouraged, Josephine thought on aloud, "And then, gratitude!" said she.

"I have heard it said, or read it somewhere, that gratitude is a burden: I cannot understand that sentiment; why, to me gratitude is a delight, gratitude is a passion.

It is the warmest of all the tender feelings I have for dear Monsieur Raynal.

I feel it glow here, in my bosom.