The first time that the Prince invited his biographer to dinner was on a very picturesque occasion. They were travelling together to Roumelia to take part in the rose harvest and festival at the scent farms of Kazanlik. The luxury of the train by which they travelled was extravagant. Blue velvet upholstered the ordinary compartments, the sleeping carriages were furnished in silk of turquoise tint, the dining-saloon was a mass of blue flowers in baskets. Rightly was it called the Blue Train. Seated opposite Ferdinand in the midst of all this azure pomp, the writer was suddenly brought face to face with a fresh emotion. On every fork and spoon, on every piece of the massive silver plate was engraved the French leur-de-lis. They marked the descent of the Bulgarian royal couple; the Prince as grandson of Louis Philippe, the Princess Marie Louise as granddaughter of Charles X. Even more moving to his biographer was a scene enacted by Ferdinand when his mother lay awaiting burial and the mock Frenchman was dressing for the funeral. He was assuming all his decorations—German ones—when the Duc de Luynes was announced. “Come in,” cried Ferdinand, and as the Duc entered he unbuttoned his waistcoat and threw it back. There next his heart blazed the broad red ribbon of the French Legion of Honour, once worn by Louis Philippe himself. Later Ferdinand was entitled to wear that ribbon, but this clandestine assumption of it was a piece of theatrical sentiment, justly calculated to tickle the sensibilities of the most level-headed Frenchman. As M. Hepp narrates, he afterwards told the story to three intimates, very Parisian and sceptical, and the hardest of them all was constrained to turn away his head and wipe his eyes. It is interesting to note how Ferdinand played upon this French sympathy, and how adroitly he made use of it. From Paris he arranged the reconciliation with Russia which followed the conversion of Prince Boris to the Orthodox faith, and France was the first country to fête him in the ceremonious way his heart yearned for. “At the Élysée,” writes Mr. John Macdonald, “the successor of the French kings and emperors royally entertained the Orleanist Prince who was so successfully introducing French culture and manners into a semi-Oriental land; or almost royally, for the Prince was as yet only half a king. Semi-royal honours only could be accorded to the Prince of Bulgaria; half a gala at the Opera, half a military manœuvre, and so on.” But to Ferdinand half a loaf was indeed better than no bread. When he demanded royal honours prior to a visit to England for the funeral of Queen Victoria he was bluntly told he could not have them. Therefore he decided to stay away. France, however, did her best for Ferdinand.