The young Prince Ferdinand had received almost daily lessons from his mother on the part that women were apt to play in his life. She, the Princess Clementine, his own mother, shrank from no sacrifice when advancing his pursuit of some vacant throne. She held no claim to consideration as compared to the great life object she set before him and herself. And she was determined that no woman breathing should live to become a hindrance to the quest. Imagine, then, what teaching Ferdinand received, when still an innocent child, about women from the lips of one of the cleverest women that ever lived. No illusions for him, no charming boyish enthusiasm for angels of earth. He had it drilled into him at every hour of the day that for the benefit of great princes like him all women existed—yes, even his own mother. Women were to be courted, wheedled, used, seduced; but not honoured. No tender feeling was ever to enter his mind in connexion with a woman, for that way led to the path of self-sacrifice. And Ferdinand must sacrifice others, never himself. The weaker side of feminine character was exposed to him by many an object lesson, for the young Ferdinand was brought up in an atmosphere almost essentially feminine. At sixteen he was more cynical about the sex than many a roué of sixty. The doctrine of woman’s eternal pursuit of the male had been so drummed into his ears that he regarded everything in petticoats as a prospective burden upon himself. He told himself everlastingly that he must allow no tender feeling for any woman to occupy his mind, else he would be saddled with a burden for life. He went from capital to capital with his mother, glancing appraisingly at women of every degree in life, and having his premature adventures with the precautions and blasé indifference of a tired man of the world. He formed a style of conversation for feminine company, in which a brilliant form of double meaning predominated. He wielded his weapon so skilfully that a pure woman, even an understanding one, had no defence against it. The other kind were dazzled by the proficiency of this mere youth in innuendo of the vilest kind, wrapped up so skilfully that even the most alert mind hesitated before its ambiguities. [Illustration: At the age of 22.] [Illustration: At the Coronation of Czar Alexander III.] [Illustration: At the time of his election as Prince of Bulgaria.] [Illustration: At the opening of the first Sobranje.] He shocked, but he also captivated; and he was firm in never himself becoming a captive. He soon earned the reputation he sought, he was credited with being as fickle as he was successful in love affairs. He left behind him in the capitals of Europe a trail of broken hearts and broken promises; and his mother approved the firmness of his procedure. She never had to accuse him of one generous impulse, where women were concerned. In this matter he was her devoted pupil.