The first few weeks after their return from Italy were passed away amid festivities and demonstrations of respect.  Josephine abandoned herself to this pomp with a high spirit, and with a deep love for enjoyment.  Her whole being was thoroughly interpenetrated with the warmth of this new sun, which had risen over her in so wondrous a light, and surrounded her with its lustrous rays.  All these festivities, banquets, representations at the grand opera, and at the Theatre Francais, these public ovations which accompanied Bonaparte at every step, at every promenade, at every attendance at the theatre,—­all these marks of honor elated Josephine, filling her with an enthusiastic pride for the hero, the man whom she now loved with all the excitability of a woman’s heart, and over whom fame rested as a halo, and which made him appear to Josephine still greater and more exalted.  To him alone now belonged her whole heart and being; and now for the first time she experienced those nervous spasms of jealousy which at a later date were to mix so many bitter drops of gall in the golden cup of her greatness.

At the ovations, the tokens of affection on the part of gentlemen delighted her, but she had no thanks for the ladies when, with their enthusiasm, brilliant eyes, bewitching smiles, and flattering words, they endeavored to manifest their adoration and gratitude to the hero of Italy; she could barely keep back her tears when, at the reception which Talleyrand, the minister of foreign affairs, gave to Bonaparte, the beautiful songstress Grassini appeared, and, with her entrancing voice, sang the fame of the conqueror who had bound captive to his triumphal car, as the most precious booty, the proud songstress herself.

The Directory, however, would have gladly allowed the ladies to take part in this enthusiasm if the men had taken no share in it; but the admiration which they had everywhere manifested so strongly for Bonaparte, had completely overshadowed their own greatness and importance.  They were no longer the monarchs of France—­Bonaparte alone seemed to be its ruler—­and their envious jealousy told them that it would require but a sign from his hand to impart to the French government a new form, to disenthrone the five directors, and to place himself in their position.  The sole aim was, therefore, to remove Bonaparte as soon as practicable from Paris, and if possible from France, so as to check his popularity, and to oppose his ever-growing power.

Bonaparte was but little inclined to meet these views of the Directory, and to accept the propositions made to him.  He declined at once to go to Rastadt, there to attend to the discussions of the congress, with as much resolution as he had refused to go to Rome to punish the papal government for the enmity it had shown to Prance.  He left it to diplomats to prattle in Rastadt over the green-table, and to General Berthier to punish the papal government, and to drive Pius out of the Eternal City, the seat of St. Peter, and erect there the altar of the republic of Rome.