The relations between the two, strained on their first meeting, went steadily from bad to worse as time wore on. Stambuloff was far from impressed by the statecraft which his Prince had imbibed at his mother’s knee, and treated him from the first as a silly schoolboy. Ferdinand’s love of ceremony and state was marked out by him for the most contemptuous treatment; he loved to make the state with which the Prince surrounded himself appear ridiculous and mean. Ferdinand’s concern about recognition by the Powers was a mere nothing to Stambuloff; it provided a means for playing Russian intrigue off against Turkish hostility, and therefore Stambuloff welcomed it. In a word, he was for Bulgaria, while Ferdinand was only concerned with the interests and the prestige of the Prince of the Bulgarians. While Ferdinand was settling down in Sofia, and learning the language and corrupting the politicians through his band of spies, he endured the arrogance and authority of Stambuloff patiently enough. But after four years of this he began to strive for some way of ridding himself of his too-powerful Minister. Then began a series of attempts upon the life of Stambuloff, which he evaded by coincidences that were remarkable in their effectiveness. For instance, in 1891, he was walking home from his club with his friend and colleague, M. Beltcheff, and passed three men at a well-lit corner. Shortly afterwards he changed to the other side of his friend, and they had not walked a score of yards in this order when Beltcheff fell pierced by the bullets of assassins. As Stambuloff ran for the nearest guardhouse, a cry of “Stambuloff is dead” fell on his ears, convincing him that the bullets were intended for him. The murderers remain unpunished to this day. In the next year, the Bulgarian agent, Dr. Vulkovich, was stabbed in the street, in circumstances which point to another mistake by the assassins of the Prince. Once more the murderers, who were well known, contrived to escape punishment. But men who offended Ferdinand at this time had a way of falling into trouble with mysterious assassins. The case of Dr. Takeff is much in point. Takeff was a journalist who had commented in offensive terms, even for Sofia, upon the extravagance of the Court. Shortly afterwards he was riding near Sofia with the poet Aleko Constantinoff, and the pair changed seats. Again the assassins found the wrong man by reason of this accident, and poor Constantinoff suffered for the writings of his friend. But, as the official Press of Sofia remarked, his death was due to his keeping bad company, and his murderers were never punished.