Natives awoke to salute the Foreign Sahibs as they passed. Thence through dark halls and ante-chambers, in which the echo of their footsteps alone broke the profound silence that had descended on the palace. At last they crossed the threshold of the Darbar hall.

At the further end of the noble chamber, where for centuries it had been the custom of the Princes of Jhansi to dispense justice, she, from whom justice had been withheld, stood to receive her visitors. In the sight of the two officers as they gazed down a nave of pillars supporting the ornately decorated roof, she appeared as the statue of some divinity in the far perspective of an ancient temple—a youthful, white robed, graceful figure, brought into strong relief by a dark background of gold embroidered arras.

As if to emphasize the powerless condition to which she had been reduced, the Rani was attended by a single waiting woman, who remained throughout the interview a few paces in her rear, motionless and apparently unobservant.

The officers advanced to within a few paces of her position and saluted her respectfully.

With a slight inclination of her head, she acknowledged their greeting and waited to learn the nature of their errand.

The Commissioner had anticipated that the Rani would have hastily surrounded herself with numerous retainers to impress him with a semblance of her power. He realized that a hundred splendidly attired courtiers could not have added a shade of prestige to this girl, who stood alone.

It was not only the majestic pose, nor the beautiful contour of her face, crowned by a mass of dark hair, ornamented with a chaplet of pearls, that quickly confirmed the Commissioner's previous impression that Lachmi Bai, Rani of Jhansi, was far removed from the generally accepted type of her countrywomen. But there was a strength of character emphasized in every line of her distinctly Aryan features, a force of will, a mystical power in every flash of her lustrous eyes, in every movement, in every word, however gently spoken, warning him at the outset that he had to deal with no shrinking, simple, zanana maiden.

He had come prepared to assume a firm, if necessary a dictatorial attitude; but now in her presence he found himself slowly paving the way by conventional compliments.

Her silence at last compelled him to come to the point.

"Your Highness," he began, "will doubtless have heard of the disturbances that have broken out in several districts of the Northwest Provinces."

"Some reports have reached my ears," she replied, with apparent indifference, "but I give to them little credence."

"I am afraid," resumed the Commissioner gravely, "that there is only too much reason to believe their authenticity. I have, therefore, sought this audience with your Highness to request that in the event of any threatened outbreak in Jhansi, you will use your influence to preserve peace. I need not add that by so doing, by demonstrating at such a crisis that your sympathy is with the British Government, you will be rendering a service to the latter that I, personally, will guarantee shall not be overlooked."

The representative of the power that had deprived her of her possessions stood before her as a supplicant for her good will.

A nature less subtle, less under such admirable control, might at the moment have been over tempted to cast prudence to the winds, and in an outburst of long gathering passion jeopardize the complete success of her plans by summoning her retainers to seize prematurely the persons of the British officers. But trained in adversity, that best of schools to curb her real feelings, by not a sign did she betray, that for months past she had been preparing for the hour when the fate of Jhansi should rest in the palm of her hand; nor the infallible knowledge she possessed, that every man in the city, aye even every woman and child, together with the whole body of native troops within the British cantonments, awaited her signal to rise in revolt.

In a voice, in which only the faintest note of irony was mingled with surprise, she answered quietly.

"Surely the Foreign Sahib sets too great store upon my ability to assist him. What have I," she continued, raising the tone slightly, and extending a hand so that the gold bangles on her wrist jingled musically. "What influence hath Lachmi Bai with the people to control their actions? If they should rebel, has not the Sahib soldiers and guns to enforce his will; I, but a few poor servants to protect my person. No," she concluded, letting her hand fall again to her side, "the Sahib knows well I have no power, no authority in Jhansi."

The Commissioner twirled his moustache musingly. He knew that without doubt she had stated the literal truth; but he was now more firmly convinced than ever, that behind the dark eyes which so unflinchingly returned his gaze, there lay a power for good or evil in a possible emergency, that it would be suicidal to ignore.

Gravely he resumed the subject.

"It would be a poor compliment," he said, "to the esteem in which it is well known your Highness is held by the people, to place your influence at so low a value. Should an uprising take place in Jhansi, you could do much to preserve law and order."

For a few moments neither spoke. Each regarded the other as if endeavoring to find a vulnerable point in the contest of diplomacy, when the Rani skilfully turned the subject to her own advantage. She was anxious to discover if any suspicion of her plans had been engendered in the minds of the Foreigners, and how far they depended for their safety upon the fidelity of their native troops, already won over to her cause. She therefore replied by another question.

"But have you any reason to think that the peace will be broken in Jhansi"?

"At present, I have not," the Commissioner replied, after a short period of reflection.

"And even in that event you can surely rely upon the loyalty of your native troops"? she suggested with apparent absence of motive.

"Yes, I believe so," he affirmed decisively. "Certainly they will remain true to their salt."

"Then why come to me," she asked, "to seek assistance for which you are likely to have so little need"?

The Commissioner realized that argumentatively, his position was no longer tenable. So he determined to revert to his original purpose and make a firm demand upon the evasive young Princess.

"Nevertheless," he replied sternly. "It is my duty to inform you, that the British Government will hold you responsible for any outbreak among the people."

The Rani raised her eyebrows slightly, as she retorted in a rising tone of protest.

"Surely the Commissioner Sahib does not remember the position in which his Government has placed me. He forgets that it not only deprived me of my inheritance of the throne of Jhansi, but of my affianced husband's personal estates, and even compelled me out of the pittance of an allowance provided for my support to pay his debts. Thus, often have the poor in vain cried to me to alleviate their distress, daily are Brahmans turned from my gates unfed. I cannot help them. For the reason that you have deprived me of the means wherewith even to influence the actions of a beggar, I cannot assist you. I do not see, nay, I do not understand how I can be held responsible for the public peace. As well might you extract the teeth of a watch dog and expect it to guard your treasure safely. Does your Government also hold me responsible for the loyalty of your troops"? she concluded, with a note of scorn.

"No," he returned with emphasis, "but it will undoubtedly look to your Highness to act in the event of an outbreak, as I have suggested."