battle, the highly glorious path in which Duryodhana has gone?
Are those heroes, slain by the Pancalas, sleeping on the bare Earth? Did
they achieve any feat? Tell me all this, O Sanjaya!'

"Sanjaya said, 'When the high-souled son of Drona proceeded towards the
camp, Kripa and Kritavarma waited at the gate. Beholding them ready to
exert themselves, Ashvatthama became filled with joy, and addressing them
whisperingly, O king, said, "If you two exert, you are competent to
exterminate all the Kshatriyas! What need I say, therefore, of this
remnant of the (Pandava) army, particularly when it is buried in sleep? I
shall enter the camp and career like Yama. I am sure that you two will
act in such way that no man may escape you with life."

"'Having said these words, the son of Drona entered the vast camp of the
Parthas; casting off all fear, he penetrated into it by a spot where
there was no door. The mighty-armed hero, having entered the camp,
proceeded, guided by signs, very softly, towards the quarters of
Dhrishtadyumna. The Pancalas, having achieved great feats, had been much
tired in battle. They were sleeping in confidence, assembled together,
and by the side of one another. Entering into Dhrishtadyumna's chamber, O
Bharata, Drona's son beheld the prince of the Pancalas sleeping before
him on his bed. He lay on a beautiful sheet of silk upon a costly and
excellent bed. Excellent wreaths of flowers were strewn upon that bed and
it was perfumed with powdered dhupa. Ashvatthama, O king, awoke with a
kick the high-souled prince sleeping trustfully and fearlessly on his
bed. Feeling that kick, the prince, irresistible in battle and of
immeasurable soul, awaked from sleep and recognised Drona's son standing
before him. As he was rising from his bed, the mighty Ashvatthama seized
him by the hair of his head and began to press him down on the earth with
his hands. Thus pressed by Ashvatthama with great strength, the prince,
from fear as also from sleepiness, was not able to put forth his strength
at that time. Striking him with his foot, O king, on both his throat and
breast while his victim writhed and roared, Drona's son endeavoured to
kill him as if he were an animal. The Pancala prince tore Ashvatthama
with his nails and at last softly said, "O preceptor's son, slay me with
a weapon, do not tarry! O best of men, let me, through thy act, repair to
the regions of the righteous!"

"'Having said this much, that slayer of foes,