"Where is the noble Prasad Singh"? she asked. "I have not seen him since the Darbar of yesterday."
An expression of regret settled upon Ahmad's face.
"Noble Rani," he explained. "Prasad Singh is sick."
His manner and intonation, whether intentional or otherwise, clearly implied a desire to conceal another reason.
The Rani returned his gaze penetratingly.
"I would speak with thee upon our return to the palace," she enjoined.
Ahmad bowed his compliance to her wish.
The ceremony was over. The Rani thanked the nobles for their renewed demonstration of affection. She again urged them to lose no time in repairing the defenses of their fortresses, and in the arming and drilling of fresh troops. She bade them farewell until she would again summon them to Darbar.
So while the Rani's banner fluttered defiantly from the peak of the White Turret, the procession retraced its way to the palace. Upon the Rani's countenance happiness called forth by the enthusiastic greetings of the people, was occasionally shaded by a look of disappointment. Something evidently had been wanting to complete the gladness of the hour.