His mother trained Ferdinand for a throne, and her influence and her wealth made for him the opportunity. As his story is unfolded, we shall see her continually at his elbow, prompting him in all the tangled affairs of his statecraft. Her love for him never waned, and to the last he was the object of adoration of the most sophisticated woman that ever adorned a Court in Europe. Her death deprived him of the best counsellor and the most powerful friend that such a prince has ever been known to possess. The gap it left in his councils will be illustrated in the course of this narrative. She died in her beloved Vienna in February, 1907, at the age of eighty-nine. Her three sons, Ferdinand of Bulgaria, Augustus son-in-law of the deposed Emperor of Brazil, and Philip, son-in-law of King Leopold of the Belgians, stood at her bedside as she passed away. The thing she had lived to bring about had not yet come to pass. Ferdinand made himself Czar of the Bulgarians in 1908. The poor old Princess died just a year too soon. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LEARNING THE ROPES “_The position is not particularly brilliant, but where is a better one to be found? I am a reigning Prince_.” —FERDINAND OF BULGARIA. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER III LEARNING THE ROPES When Ferdinand found it was his “sacred duty” to occupy the vacant Principality without loss of time, he disguised himself and fled from Vienna. His initial disguise was that of a Viennese cab-driver, but he changed several times before he arrived in Sofia disguised as a Bulgarian general. He has lived a substantial portion of his life in various disguises since that day. If one had any pity to spare for such a malignant creature, one might almost pity him his first experiences in Bulgaria. The Bulgars did not know him, but his reputation had preceded him from the mouth of that Popoff who had inspected him so critically in the reception-room of his mother’s summer palace. The envoys were bombarded with questions on their return, and those most responsible for the choice mustered up enough courage to describe him as “most diplomatic.” This was hardly what the Bulgars had been led to expect, and the wise men noted that Popoff held his speech. This led to direct questions, and Popoff let out his opinion. “Pah!” says he, “scented like a civet.” And the Bulgarians, who make scent but do not use it, never forgot the description.