A great shout rose and confirmed her in her right to the title. The throngs surged back and forth in the endeavor of those furthest away to reach a spot nearer to her person.
"Come to us," they cried. "Come down amid thy people, O Rani."
With a radiant countenance, she passed down the flight of stone steps into the courtyard. Unguarded she moved among the mass of people, stirred to a frenzy of enthusiasm by her presence. Some knelt in her path to touch the hem of her garment, while others waved their weapons aloft, vowing they would defend her to the death.
Darkness fell with the swiftness of the Tropics. She turned to re-enter the palace, and torches flared to light her path. They gave to the scene a weird, majestic splendor—the irregular outlines of the palace overshadowed by the huge black mass of the fortress; the exultant, white robed throng; the stern faces of the soldiers; the girl, whose mysterious being swayed their emotions like the wind playing upon lotus reeds.
In the Darbar hall Ahmad Khan impatiently awaited the Rani's return. He was startled by the cries of the populace, and dismayed at the discovery that his egress was blocked. Uneasily he paced back and forth, wondering what these ominous signs betokened. He cursed his imprudence at having dismissed his followers at so critical a moment.
"Tricked, I doubt not," he savagely exclaimed. "But one more fool who loses a crown in exchange for a woman's smile."
The Rani and her officers swept into the hall. Ahmad's hand impulsively grasped the hilt of his sword—a gesture which Prasad imitated by half withdrawing his from its scabbard.
The Hindu noble advanced a few paces, regarding Ahmad's sullen countenance as if willing to accept a challenge.
"Peace, my Lords," the Rani cried authoritatively.