It was evening, the Ranee's reception-hour. This the captain of her lately enrolled bodyguard, a man of splendid stature and dull, forbidding face, told the visitor. Following him, he wound his way through some narrow passages, until a heavy curtain before a closed door pulled them up. The captain threw the curtain aside and opened the door, and a curious spectacle presented itself to Tom. He was in a large hall, paved and lined with marble, and lighted by beautiful perforated windows, through which streamed softly the golden light of evening. It fell on a motley crowd, barefooted and dressed in every variety of Eastern costume. To Tom's eyes, dazzled by the sudden change, there seemed to be nothing but a confusion of swaying forms and faded colours. Halting for a moment to recover himself, he saw that the crowd which was spread thinly over the hall concentrated at its upper end. Thither his conductor led him, the throng parting right and left to allow him free passage. In front of him was a marble daïs, raised a few steps above the level of the hall. To this he lifted his eyes and found himself in the immediate presence of a woman of queenly figure. It was the Ranee. He thought, as he looked at her, that he had never seen a finer sight. None, indeed, knew better than the Ranee of Jhansi the effect of the senses upon the imagination; no one has ever been more skilful in use of the arts by which such influence as she desired was won. That evening she was dressed in a robe of curiously figured satin and woven gold; a gauze veil, which softened, but did not hide her proud and beautiful face, was thrown over her, and her seat was a finely carved and gilded chair. For an instant the English youth was bewildered; in the next he remembered the part he had to play; while the Captain was recounting his name and titles, he prostrated himself reverently. When he lifted his head, he saw that she was standing--a noble figure in her splendid raiment--and making signs to him to approach nearer to her. He mounted the daïs, the lady encouraging him by a smile. An attendant, in the meantime, brought forward a low chair, upon which, in obedience to the Ranee's invitation, he seated himself. What was to come next? The experience being totally novel, he thought his most prudent course would be to wait. He sat silent, therefore, feeling conscious in every nerve of the keen and fervent gaze which, from under that silvery veil, was enveloping him. 'Are you one of us, my lord?' said the Ranee at length. 'I am the slave of her Excellency,' he answered, bending low. 'I have many slaves in name,' returned the Ranee, a proud and bitter smile playing about her lips. 'Surely her Excellency is unjust to her servants,' said Tom. 'You are right, Sir Stranger,' said one who stood by--a ponderous and unwieldy figure of a man, clad in white muslin tunic and crimson sash.