Prasad in waiting near by, noticed her appeal, and strode to her side.
The Defender of Jhansi, the Victor of Gwalior, raised her hands to her face, laid her head on his shoulder, and wept.
Prasad gently led the Rani from the scene. He conducted her through a silent corridor to a door that opened into the palace gardens. Thence to a pavilion set apart for the use of the ladies of Sindhia's zanana. The noise and uproar died away, the stillness of night fell upon them, for long neither spoke.
At last the Rani broke the trend of a deep reverie.
"Prasad," she asked. "Art thou not going to the banquet? See, there are lights yonder in the windows of the great hall. Thou wilt miss the feast in honor of our victory."
"What care I for feasts, dear Lady," he returned, "so that I may stay with thee."
"Thou art changed then, Prasad"? she replied.
"How dost thou mean"? he questioned. "Changed in some manner I pray God I am; but never was there a time since I first set eyes upon thy graceful form, when I hungered for aught else, but thee, fair Rani."
"Never have I hungered for aught else but thee, fair Rani."—Page [267].