It was in a moment of temporary rest, that the Foreign general ordered his cavalry to charge, with the object of driving the Rani's bodyguard out into the Gwalior plain. The movement took the latter by surprise, with a resulting panic.
The Rani bravely fronted the oncoming squadrons in an endeavor to rally her troopers, but in the tumult her horse took the bit in its teeth and carried her away in the rout. At their heels the Foreign horsemen were slashing and firing their pistols mercilessly. Again and again the Rani called on her troopers to halt, but they only rode for the camp the faster. She reined in her horse and turned, to find she was the last on that part of the field. A hussar was upon her with uplifted sword.
The blow fell but she parried it adroitly, and delivered another in return that slightly wounded her assailant. More hussars coming fast in their leader's wake, the odds were too uneven against her. She set her horse at a ditch a few yards in front, beyond which was safety. The brute urged by her voice leaped forward to the bank, then refused to jump, stumbled and fell with its rider. Before she could extricate herself, the hussar dashed upon her with fury nettled by the pain of his wound. As he swept by, he leveled his pistol and fired. The bullet lodged in her breast, her sword fell from her hand, she sank to the ground in unconsciousness to rise no more.
Over the ditch the hussar passed little thinking that he had dealt a mortal wound to the "bravest and best" of the Native leaders. In his eyes she had appeared only as one of their officers.
Soon the Foreigners' bugles sounded the recall, the Rani's bodyguard rallied and charged back over the field, but it was too late to save their mistress. They discovered her where she had fallen, and gently, sadly, bore her back to her tent.
There it was made apparent that her end was quickly approaching. Prasad, heartbroken, bitterly reproached himself that he had not remained at her side to protect her from harm. He had taken her lifeless form in his arms. About them were grouped men who had never before experienced a tender emotion. Tears coursed down their fierce, bronzed, visages.
Prasad's gentle caresses at last recalled the Rani to consciousness.
"Well Prasad," she asked in a faint voice. "How went the battle? All is not lost I hope, though I am wounded to the death."
"Ah, dear one," he sadly returned. "All is truly lost with thee."