"By Allah"! exclaimed Ahmad petulantly. "Thy mind doth evidence little penetration. Clearly she doth not wish them to be set free at the boundary, but in some convenient spot dispatched from further harm."
"If such be her meaning," replied the other firmly, "she must express it thus to me in words. Too well do I know my duty to place an interpretation of my own upon her plain command. As the order stands, I will escort them to the boundary."
An exclamation of impatience burst from Ahmad's lips. The moment was opportune for a still more wicked design. It left him no time to argue the matter further.
"Then get thee gone upon thy business," he retorted angrily. "For all my trouble I see thou art poorly witted to rise in favor at the Rani's court. Thy stupidity will interpose between a great reward."
"To obey an order strictly was ever the injunction of my illustrious teacher, Dost Mohammed Khan," the young officer replied firmly. "Alone, by so doing, do I seek reward."
He saluted Ahmad haughtily, and turned to order the mounting of his command.
"A curse upon the fool," muttered Ahmad fiercely. "Who could have reckoned on a conscience from the Afghan school? But that the hour has come to gratify a yearning hunger, I would beat submission to his brain."
He bade the rest of the troopers await his return, and set forth in the opposite direction taken by the Rani. When beyond the range of observation from the tomb, he turned, and quickly but cautiously made a detour with the temple also, as his destination.
In his mind he beheld the woman of his passionate desire, practically alone and unprotected. To the priests and attendants he wasted not a thought. They would fly in terror at the first cry of alarm. She, for whom he had jeopardized his soul by swearing falsely on the Koran would then remain to suffer willingly or otherwise the purpose of his mind. That the ground was sacred, mattered not. Dedicated to a heathen God, it would have been an act of his faith to slaughter the priests and raze the building to the ground. More, was not she, also, an unbeliever, given into his embrace by the will of God. When accomplished, a swift horse in waiting, would, if need be, carry him far distant from the vengeance of the outraged woman. Of that he had not been unmindful.
The Rani had approached the temple with sorrow consuming her heart. Her affection for Prasad had gone forth spontaneously almost at their first meeting. She had beheld in him what she believed to be her ideal of a chivalrous noble. That he possessed failings due to youth and inexperience she was ready to admit; but that he should prove such a hopeless failure in all his qualities, was a bitter disappointment. A drunkard, a consort of other women, while he asserted his unalterable love for her, a conspirator against her authority if not her person, surely her affection could not have been bestowed upon a more worthless object. Her temperament was not such as to display her anguish by lamenting Prasad's faithlessness and her own wrong into every willing ear; but none the less was there the necessity to obtain relief by an outpouring of her spirit. In secret, before the great God she worshipped, she purposed to seek consolation for her wounded heart; then to go forth and bear outwardly before her people no trace of her inward grief.