She walked with a stately, measured pace, a little apart from the rest of her suite. As she moved along the human aisle, the earnest expression on her beautiful features gathered an abstracted look, as if the thunder of the music crashing upward to the roof, carried her vision beyond the brilliant spectacle of the moment, to some perspective scene yet to be unfolded.
For the occasion she had robed herself with great magnificence after the Mohammedan rather than the Hindu fashion of ladies of high rank. Her reason was, perhaps, that it afforded her a better means of impressing those to whom a sumptuous display of jewels and fine raiment formed a considerable part of their existence.
In place of the simple, graceful sari, she wore an outer garment of scarlet cloth of gold, disclosing beneath, silken skirts of delicate hues and of such filmy texture that one might have supposed it was by a miracle the intricate embroidery of pearls had been stitched upon the material. Upon her head there rested lightly a cap of scarlet velvet set with pearls, that contrasted with the dark color of her gathered tresses. Pearls, lustrous, priceless pearls, adorned her neck, her ears, even her slippers. Upon her fingers, diamonds of Golconda served to draw attention to the symmetry of her hands.
"In the Paradise of the Prophet," murmured Ahmad as she passed, "could there be found such a one"?
Following in the Rani's train, the worthy secretary, Bipin Dat, marched with a lofty air, as if he trod upon the necks of the nobles present. His glance chanced to rest upon Prasad Singh. An inward tremor caused his spirit swiftly to descend to earth.
He hastily grasped a talisman that he had purchased from his friend the astrologer at great cost, and muttered a prayer.
"May holy Devi protect her servant from the accursed designs of the evil one."
The Rani approached the throne and seated herself with quiet dignity. On her right, the aged man, to whom she had accorded so great honor on the previous day, took up his station. Behind her, grouped themselves the personal retinue of her court.
The music ceased. Amid the silence which ensued, Ahmad Khan strode forward to the lowest step of the throne. He salaamed thrice before the Rani, then turned, and in a loud voice proclaimed her title.
"Behold," he cried. "The Pearl of Jhansi, the noblest of our Queens. Long live the fair Rani, Lachmi Bai."