She was about to respond promptly, when, glancing backward she noticed a picket that had been driven in by the enemy engaged in a desperate encounter with a larger body of cavalry. In the centre, fighting for his life with no hope of escape, she beheld the form of the officer who had succeeded in effecting her deliverance from Jhansi. The mêlée was too far distant to discern his features, but intuitively, without a hesitating doubt, she knew that Parma Nand Rai Bahadur was one with Prasad Singh.
Ahmad's request, the peril of the Native army, both were swept from her mind in the face of her lover's danger. Without another thought than for his safety, she gave no order, but impulsively spurred her horse at a broken part of the intervening wall, and dashed to his rescue. Her command, not understanding what course to pursue, divided of their own volition into two parties, the Valaiti troopers following their mistress, the rest galloping after the infantry in retreat. Thus Ahmad Khan, muttering all the curses in his vocabulary, was left to extricate himself as best he could.
With uplifted sword the Rani came down upon the Foreign cavalry like an avenging spirit. At last she was hand to hand with them. Three Native troopers of the enemy she hurled groaning to the dust. Right and left she gallantly parried and delivered blows. Her Valaitis closed about her, as she cut her way toward her lover's side.
Prasad's horse had fallen. On foot he was fighting despairingly when her image rose before his eyes, superbly animated with the ardor of mortal combat.
"Prasad! Prasad!" she cried. "The Rani of Jhansi cometh to thee."
She raised her sword to parry a blow delivered at his head, but her hand dropped lifelessly to her side. The scene became a hazy blur in her vision, reeling in her saddle she lost consciousness. When she regained her senses she was far from the battlefield of Kunch.
The victory of the Foreigners had again been complete. The retreat of the Native army, at first conducted with order, finally developed into a rout, in which the Valaitis swiftly bore the Rani back to Kalpi. The Rao Sahib seized with the same panic that had carried Tantia Topi from the field to an unknown destination, quickly left Kalpi to its fate. In the city all was confusion. The infantry vowed they had been abandoned by the artillery; the artillery, through the mouth of Ahmad Khan, swore that the cavalry had deserted them at the critical moment and thereby lost the battle. Without a leader, the bulk of the troops were seeking individual safety in the jungles. They believed the enemy was upon their heels.
Such was the situation to which the Rani opened her eyes, on recovering from the glancing blow that had placed her temporarily hors de combat.
Her first thoughts were of Prasad. She inquired anxiously of those about her if any news of him had been obtained. The answer was in part satisfactory. He had been seen during the flight from Kunch, and was believed to have been ordered to escort Tantia Topi to a place of safety.
The Rani rose from her couch to view with silent contempt and outspoken denunciation the craven spirit that had captured all who remained in Kalpi.