Briefly she recapitulated the reason urged by Ahmad Khan for the Dost's appointment to the greater office. No voice dissenting she then declared the Darbar closed.
Kindly she turned to Prasad and invited him to accompany her to her private apartments.
With intense chagrin, jealousy, and disappointment in his heart, he bowed haughtily, and pleaded as an excuse a pressing matter requiring his presence elsewhere.
For a moment a look of pain crossed her face.
But the music again sounded, the fans of state waved on high, the procession re-formed, and between the ranks of salaaming nobles, the Rani retired from her first Darbar.
Ahmad Khan had scarce time to adjust his plans to the unexpected course taken by the Rani. But in the appointment of his protégé, even to the lesser position of honor, he beheld a dagger by which to stab his rival's favor with the Rani, a fatal blow.
Prasad strode toward the door, wrapt in gloomy, bitter feelings, without exchanging a parting salutation with anyone.
Ahmad followed quickly and caught up with the Hindu noble before the latter had crossed the threshold.
"Stay, good friend," he cried. "Thou art in a great hurry to shake the dust of the Darbar hall from thy feet."
"Aye," returned the other, with sullen ill humor. "And it will not be long before I shake the dust of the accursed city from my feet."