“No terms from the sovereign of the Moguls can be honourable to those whom he has so irreparably wronged. I will listen to no accommodation short of disbanding your army, and leaving the city of Chittore to enjoy that peace which you have wantonly interrupted. I am now in your power. I seek not to stay your vengeance. Wreak it upon me, with the flush and glow of a tyrant’s satisfaction. I will brave you with my last gasp of life. I will defy you with my expiring breath; but never could I listen to terms from the man who has profaned the sacred sanctuary of the Hindoos, and cast down upon the threshold of their temples the representatives of their gods.” “Lady, I would show the difference between the magnanimity of the Mahomedan and the Hindoo. You have thrice sought my life with an asperity of passion, sanctioned only by what you consider the sacred obligations of revenge. You have refused to listen to terms of honourable accommodation. You have expressed towards me the deadliest animosity. You are in my power, and I could in a moment prevent all further exercise of your hatred; but I forbear. You are free. I have commanded an escort to be ready once more to bear you to the gates of your native city.” The Rajpootni turned her head; a tear for an instant glazed her eye, but the warm glow of pride dried it in its crystal formation, and it ceased to flow. She uttered not a word, but silently quitted the tent, making a haughty salaam to the Emperor as she passed, mounted a litter which had been prepared to convey her, and in a short time was once more within the gates of Chittore. Her heart now swelled with thoughts of desperation and of death. She acknowledged the magnanimous forbearance of her enemy, and accepted life only to perform a last and awful duty among her family and her countrymen. Her soul dilated with the solemn purpose which she was about to fulfil--the crisis had arrived. FOOTNOTES: [31] See Brigg’s translation of Ferishta, vol. ii., page 230. CHAPTER III. The inhabitants of Chittore now gave themselves up to despair. Their governor was dead, a great number of the garrison had been slain in the late sally, and no hope of rescue appeared. The effect was dreadful. The fear of falling into the enemy’s hands drove many to deeds of desperation only heard of among those whose minds have been obfuscated by the gloom of that superstition of which idolatry is the monstrous parent. Whole families destroyed themselves, dying in each other’s arms, and with their expiring breaths cursing those who had induced them to embrace such a dreadful alternative. There was scarcely a house that was not filled with the dying and the dead. The groans of death within mingled with the clamours of war without, and the great conqueror of nature was about to reap a full harvest of triumph.