"'Very well, child, come early,' said Surájmul.

"So Prithvi Raj came early and put his Uncle's whole army to flight. But
that was not enough. He must be driven from the kingdom. So when Prithvi
heard that broken army was hiding in the depths of a mighty forest,
there he went with his bravest horsemen, and suddenly, on a dark night,
sprang into their midst. Then there was great shouting and fighting; and
soon they came together, uncle and nephew, striking at each other, yet
never hating, though they must make battle because of Chitor and the
Kingdom of Mewar.

"To none would Suráj yield, but only to Prithvi, bravest of the brave.
So suddenly in a loud voice he cried--'Stay the fight, nephew. If I am
killed, no great matter. But if _you_ are killed, what will become of
Chitor? I would bear shame for ever.'

"By those generous words he made submission greater than victory. Uncle
and nephew embraced, heart to heart, and all those who had been fighting
each other sat down together in peace, because Surájmul, true Rajput,
could not bring harm, even in anger, upon the sacred city of Chitor."

She paused--her eyes on Roy, who had lost his own puzzling sensations in
the clash of the fight and its chivalrous climax.

"Oh, I love it," he said. "Is that all?"

"No, there is more."

"Is it sad?"