LACHMI BAI
every now and then raising his monotonous cry for pity and alms.
Externally, an indefinite era of peace seemed to have settled upon Jhansi. Except for the periodical anxiety concerning the rains, there appeared to be no disquieting feature disturbing its outward calm. Yet for months past in that year of 1857 a token, 1 a warning of some great impending occurrence had gone forth through the land ; from whence proceeding few men knew, to what purpose the masses did not comprehend, though they watched. With indifference as to what it might portend, the Foreigners had also observed the sign.
But in one place in Jhansi that day there was no rest at the noontide hour. It was in the palace of the disin- herited Rani, or Princess of the state. There, an atmos- phere of suspense, an air laden with that mysterious fore- boding that some mighty event was about to take place, permeated every apartment, the halls, courts, and cor- ridors. The very walls seemed to live with sinister anima- tion. Men, many of them with arms displayed openly, moved stealthily back and forth from room to room, gathering in groups to discuss some weighty topic with hushed accents. Even the women servants appeared to have caught the infection of the hour, pausing to glean snatches of the men's conversation, and passing on with significant looks.
1 The chupaty, Or cake of unleavened bread, that circulated in a mysterious manner previous to the outbreak of the Indian Re- bellion.
