"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. On dismounting she summoned Ahmad to follow her into the interior. "My Lord," she said, when they were alone, "thy reply concerning Prasad Singh causeth me to suspect that something hath gone amiss with him. Hath the foolish fellow taken umbrage at some new imaginary slight"? Ahmad looked uneasy. He hesitated to reply, as if under the necessity of exercising prudent dissimulation. "Thou dost not answer me," resumed the Rani, in a tone of some impatience. "Tell me, I command thee, why it was that Prasad Singh did not comply with my invitation to be present at the ceremony of the morning"? "Fair Lady," Ahmad replied evasively, "surely the truth is, that the noble Prasad Singh is sick. I doubt not he was unable to be present." "Sick is he," the Rani echoed, "Aye, but thy manner leadeth me to suspect another cause. I beg thee, good Ahmad, to tell me the nature of his malady. Is it a distemper of the mind"? "Noble Rani," returned Ahmad, "Prasad Singh is sick. I ask thee to urge me to no further explanation." "But I will urge thee," retorted the Rani imperiously. "I will have the whole truth from thee ere thou dost leave the palace." Ahmad Khan appeared a victim of deep confusion. "Most gracious Rani," he besought her, "I trust thou wilt not visit thy displeasure upon one who is my friend, my good comrade. Verily do I love Prasad as a brother. Ill would it seem in me to expose the pardonable follies of a gallant youth." "Follies," exclaimed the Rani petulantly. "Speak! What follies hath Prasad Singh committed"? Ahmad assumed an apologetic mien. "Merely, noble lady," he replied, "the usual overflow of spirit in one of his high birth. He hath indulged too freely of the accursed spirits of the Foreigners." A look of disdain settled on the Rani's face.