"Any number of people, who all kept shouting __Bande Mataram__. Sandip was also there. He took up some of the ashes, crying: 'Brothers! This is the first funeral pyre lighted by your village in celebration of the last rites of foreign commerce. These are sacred ashes. Smear yourselves with them in token of your __Swadeshi__ vow.'"
"Panchu," said I, turning to him, "you must lodge a complaint."
"No one will bear me witness," he replied.
"None bear witness?—Sandip! Sandip!"
Sandip came out of his room at my call. "What is the matter?" he asked.
"Won't you bear witness to the burning of this man's cloth?"
Sandip smiled. "Of course I shall be a witness in the case," he said. "But I shall be on the opposite side."
"What do you mean," I exclaimed, "by being a witness on this or that side? Will you not bear witness to the truth?"
"Is the thing which happens the only truth?"
"What other truths can there be?"