Fortunately for herself, Josephine had a shallow character; her impressions were keen, but evanescent. The pleasures of sovereignty outweighed the griefs. She felt that the crown was heavy at times, but it adorned her and kept her young; and in spite of the jealousy it gave rise to, the court satisfied her vanity and brought her sufficient consolation. To the satisfaction of her pride she found another purer and more lasting emotion, which she valued more, in the opportunity of doing good. She had, besides, passed through so many vicissitudes in her life that nothing could surprise her, and her soul, accustomed to suffering, was prepared for the most violent emotions, the most terrible anguish. She wept readily, but her tears were soon dried; the rainbow followed close upon the storm, and Josephine would smile through her tears. XI. THE POPE AT THE TUILERIES. While Napoleon, proud in the possession of his new empire, was exhibiting at the Tuileries his vast power and grandeur, the same palace was inhabited by a holy old man, whose humility presented a marked contrast with the conqueror's haughty spirit. Pius VII., who was quartered in the Pavilion of Flora, led the life of an anchorite, with all the modesty and piety of an old monk, fasting every day as in his convent, and edifying even the impious by the nimbus that shone around his pale and mystic face. It was impossible to approach this worthy Vicar of Christ without a filial feeling of tenderness. The crimes of the French Revolution--the massacre or the execution of the priests, the profanation of the altars, the persecutions and blasphemies--had imprinted the stamp of melancholy on his face. It was easy to see that he lamented the barbarities of the times, and that his life had been full of anguish. He embodied all the sufferings of the Church. With his ascetic air, his deep-set eye, his complexion as pallid as ivory, his white robes tinged with red, the Sovereign Pontiff had in his whole person something strange and imposing. He occupied the apartment on the first floor of the Pavilion of Flora, where Madame Elisabeth had lived from October, 1789, to August 10, 1792. The Abbe Proyart, the author of the letter to the prisoner of the Temple, came to offer the Pope a copy of this same life of Madame Louise of France, which he had long since offered to the sister of Louis XVI. "I am living here," said Pius VII., "in the apartments of another saint." What singular vicissitudes! The same place occupied in turn by Madame Elisabeth, the members of the Committee of Public Safety, and by the Vicar of Christ!