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, the son of the Pancala king, assailed with strength by that mighty hero, became silent.  Hearing those indistinct sounds of his, Drona’s son said, “O wretch of thy race, there is no region for those that slay their preceptors.  For this, O thou of wicked understanding, thou deservest not to be slain with any weapon!” While saying so, Ashvatthama, filled with rage, began to strike the vital parts of his victim with violent kicks of his heels, and slew his foe like a lion slaying an infuriated elephant.  At the cries of that hero while he was being slain, his wives and guards that were in his tent all awake, O king!  Beholding somebody crushing the prince with superhuman force, they regarded the assailant to be some preternatural being and, therefore, uttered no cries from fear.  Having despatched him to Yama’s abode by such means, Ashvatthama of great energy went out and getting upon his beautiful car stayed on it.  Indeed, coming out of Dhrishtadyumna’s abode, O king, Ashvatthama caused all the points of the compass to resound with his roars, and then proceeded on his car to other parts of the camp for slaying his foes.