The Hara Rao, as if glorying in the act, carried off the _chhattar-changi_, ‘the golden sun in the sable disk,’ the regal insignia of Mewar, which he lodged in the palace of Bundi. The abdicated Ummeda, whose gratified revenge had led to a life of repentance, was horror-struck at this fresh atrocity in his house [499]: he cried, “Shame on the deed!” nor would he henceforth look on the face of his son. A highly dramatic effect is thrown around the last worldly honours paid to the murdered king of Mewar; and although his fate has been elsewhere described, it may be proper to record it from the chronicle of his foeman. =The Obsequies of Rāna Ari Singh.=—The Rana and the Bundi prince had married two sisters, daughters of the prince of Kishangarh, so that there were ties of connexion to induce the Rana to reject all suspicion of danger, though he had been warned by his wife to beware of his brother-in-law. The ancient feud had been balanced in the mutual death of the last two princes, and no motive for enmity existed. On the day previous to this disastrous event, the Mewar minister had given a feast, of which the princes and their nobles had partaken, when all was harmony and friendship; but the sequel to the deed strongly corroborates the opinion that it was instigated by the nobles of Mewar, in hatred of their tyrannical prince; and other hints were not wanting in addition to the indignant threats of the minister to kindle the feeling of revenge. At the moment the blow was struck, a simple mace-bearer alone had the fidelity to defend his master; not a chief was at hand either to intercept the stroke, or pursue the assassin; on the contrary, no sooner was the deed consummated, than the whole chivalry of Mewar, as if panic-struck and attacked by a host, took to flight, abandoning their camp and the dead body of their master. A single concubine remained to perform the last rites to her lord. She commanded a costly pyre to be raised, and prepared to become his companion to a world unknown. With the murdered corpse in her arms, she reared her form from the pile, and, as the torch was applied, she pronounced a curse on his murderer, invoking the tree under whose shade it was raised to attest the prophecy, “that, if a selfish treachery alone prompted the deed, within two months the assassin might be an example to mankind; but if it sprung from a noble revenge of any ancient feud, she absolved him from the curse: a branch of the tree fell in token of assent, and the ashes of the Rana and the Sati whitened the plain of Bilaita.”