The creatures he employed to perpetrate his crimes remain unpunished to this day. They were permitted to organize bands to desecrate the grave of Stambuloff, while yet it was lying open to receive the mangled body of the statesman. And Ferdinand, from the safety of Carlsbad, dared to send expressions of sympathy and a wreath to the bereaved woman, who had lived for months in the shadow of the impending crime. His creatures lived to murder Stambuloff’s friend Petkoff. They lived to wax fat in idleness in the cafés of Sofia; some of them are alive at this day. Their deeds are known and they make no concealment of them. For Ferdinand is on their side. Well has he kept his wise vow to be on the side of the assassins. Not that he would stoop to assassination himself. He is always absent in Carlsbad when any of this vile work is in train. He himself has a sensitive disposition that revolts at all deeds of violence and bloodshed. As we shall see, he cannot even bear to see a dumb animal suffer. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ FERDINAND THE FEMININE “_If ever I feel tired or depressed, I have only to look at a bunch of violets to become myself again._”—FERDINAND OF BULGARIA. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XII FERDINAND THE FEMININE M. Joseph Reinach, the French publicist, whose articles signed Polybe in the _Paris Figaro_ have been rightly estimated as among the most informative contributions to the public knowledge of European politics, long maintained a private correspondence with Ferdinand. The letters of the ruler of Bulgaria, written in his own handwriting and signed “The Good European,” are masterpieces of hypocrisy and elaborate double dealing. Their tortuous insincerity does not suffice to conceal one outstanding fact, revealed by the character of the handwriting itself. The thin, delicate sloping letters, the rich perfumed note-paper, the exquisite neatness of the correspondence expose the feminine soul of the man who has commanded so many murders. An admirer has credited him with “an almost exaggerated delicacy of mind,” and the evidence brought in support of the statement at least proves that his amusements, his recreations, his antipathies, and many of his occupations are those of a well-brought-up woman of the princely class. Old Major Popoff, when he met him for the second time, was received by the Prince reclining on a gorgeous couch. In his hand was a perfect Malmaison carnation which he sniffed approvingly; he even condescended to point out to the rough old Bulgarian the exquisite formation of the petals. The visitor was able to grasp two points in the appearance of his new monarch. His hair had been elaborately curled and prinked. And the ruler of Bulgaria wore corsets.