"
At first Pramathanath felt flattered at the special respect thus shown
to him. When, however, the train went on, the dull rays of the setting
sun, at the west of the fields, now ploughed up and stripped of green,
seemed in his eyes to spread a glow of shame over the whole country.
Sitting near the window of his lonely compartment, he seemed to catch a
glimpse of the down-cast eyes of his Motherland, hidden behind the
trees. As Pramathanath sat there, lost in reverie, burning tears flowed
down his cheeks, and his heart burst with indignation.
He now remembered the story of a donkey who was drawing the chariot of
an idol along the street. The wayfarers bowed down to the idol, and
touched the dusty ground with their foreheads. The foolish donkey
imagined that all this reverence was being shown to him. "The only
difference," said Pramathanath to himself, " between the donkey and
myself is this: I understand to-day that the respect I receive is not
given to me but to the burden on my back."
Arriving home, Pramathanath called together all the children of the
household, and lighting a big bonfire, threw all his European clothes
into it one by one.
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