Soon the Foreigners' bugles sounded the recall, the Rani's bodyguard rallied and charged back over the field, but it was too late to save their mistress. They discovered her where she had fallen, and gently, sadly, bore her back to her tent. There it was made apparent that her end was quickly approaching. Prasad, heartbroken, bitterly reproached himself that he had not remained at her side to protect her from harm. He had taken her lifeless form in his arms. About them were grouped men who had never before experienced a tender emotion. Tears coursed down their fierce, bronzed, visages. Prasad's gentle caresses at last recalled the Rani to consciousness. "Well Prasad," she asked in a faint voice. "How went the battle? All is not lost I hope, though I am wounded to the death." "Ah, dear one," he sadly returned. "All is truly lost with thee." "Do not speak thus," she replied, painfully exerting herself to a return of spirit. "While brave men live no cause is lost." Then turning her gaze upon the grief stricken countenances of her troopers, she enjoined them not to weep for her. "For thy tears will bring forth mine," she pleaded, "and the true soldier cries not on facing death." With assistance, she then removed Sindhia's necklace from her breast. She directed the strings to be broken, and summoning her ever faithful Valaitis gave to each, in turn, a pearl in remembrance of their fair captain. "Farewell," she said, as each saluted with uncontrolled grief. "Be brave and fight on until the end." Soon Prasad remained with her alone. For a time she rested her head upon his breast with her arms about him. Many loving, sorrowful words were exchanged, until she felt the moment of dissolution nigh. "Prasad," she said. "Place thy hand within my jacket. Thou wilt find my parting gift to thee there." He obeyed as she directed, and drew forth his dagger. "Thy dagger, O Prasad," she exclaimed. "I have kept it to protect my honor. I give it back to thee to save thine own in case of need. And now, my dear Lord, one request have I to ask of thee before I say farewell. I beg thou wilt see to it, that no Foreign eye doth gaze upon my body after I am dead." In a sorrowful whisper he promised to comply. "Then farewell," she said. "Farewell Prasad, may God love thee as truly as I have done." "Farewell"? he exclaimed interrogatively. "I will not leave thee yet alone." "Prasad," she returned. "It is my will to be alone. Nay, I shall not be alone. Again I say, farewell to thee, for thine eyes must not behold my last moment." He embraced her once more, laid her gently back amid the pillows, then rose obediently to her command. He paused on the threshold of the entrance to gaze for the last time upon her face. In its beautiful features there was discernible neither sign of weakness nor of fear--her spirit remained heroic to the end. He covered his eyes with his hands and passed forth.