"What," she cried. "Dost thou not hear my command? Take those hangings away. I am not a Mohammedan, but a Hindu Rani in my own right. Of old time our princesses were not afraid to show their faces to the people. It is my pleasure that they shall know well the features of Lachmi Bai." The curtains were hurriedly removed. The Rani entered her chair, and surrounded by her servants was borne in the direction of the city gate, through which it was expected her _guru_ would enter. At the head of the procession, the worthy secretary, Bipin Dat, marched with pompous dignity. Against all contingencies, he had prudently further armed himself with a long sword, that trailed in the dust at his side, and made him an awe inspiring object to the beggars that chanced in his way. As the procession passed through the streets, the people saluted the Rani with terms of affection. Many turned to catch a glimpse of her face. "See," they cried. "The Rani of Jhansi fears not the gaze of our eyes." It had gone little more than half the distance to the gate, when it was met by a bullock cart in which rode an old man of venerable aspect. The Rani seemed to instantly recognize his features. She commanded her bearers to halt. "It is my dear _Guru_," she cried. "Ah, how glad I am to see him." On his part the old man recognized the rich liveries of the servants as those of his godchild, the Rani. With an effort he dismounted from his cart and would have prostrated himself before her, had she not anticipated his action. She alighted quickly and knelt at his feet. She embraced them affectionately, and cried in a voice which all might hear: "O _Guru_, live forever. Grant a blessing to thy godchild, Lachmi Bai." For a moment the old man's face reflected the astonishment of the crowd that had gathered. That she should thus humble herself in public was certainly a surprising act. But its significance was not lost upon the people, who, as the old man raised her in his arms tenderly, called down a thousand blessings on her head. The first greetings over, the _Guru_ was about to again climb into his rickety vehicle, when the Rani interposed. She insisted that he take her place in the _duli_. At first, the old man demurred at so great an honor being accorded him. But the Rani was persistent. "Before, I have ever met thee, dear _Guru_," she cried, "as but a poor captive in Jhansi. Now that I am the Rani, I desire my people shall see I am not unmindful of the ancient customs of our race." Thus she followed on foot behind her _Guru's_ chair, as the procession returned to the palace. Chapter VIII _THE DARBAR_