heroic Krishna of Dasharhas race, and by Yuyudhana, as also by Yuyutsu.  The princess Draupadi also, burning with grief, and accompanied by those Pancala ladies that were with her, sorrowfully followed her lord.  Yudhishthira beheld near the banks of the Ganga, O king, the crowd of Bharata ladies afflicted with woe and crying like a flight of she-ospreys.  The king was soon surrounded by those thousands of ladies who, with arms raised aloft in grief, were indulging in loud lamentations and giving expression to all kinds of words, agreeable and disagreeable:  Where, indeed, is that righteousness of the king, where is truth and compassion, since he has slain sires and brothers and preceptors and sons and friends?  How, O mighty-armed one, hath thy heart become tranquil after causing Drona, and thy grandsire Bhishma, and Jayadratha, to be slaughtered?  What need hast thou of sovereignty, after having seen thy sires and brothers, O Bharata, and the irresistible Abhimanyu and the sons of Draupadi, thus slaughtered?  Passing over those ladies crying like a flight of she-ospreys, the mighty-armed king Yudhishthira the just saluted the feet of his eldest uncle.  Having saluted their sire according to custom, those slayers of foes, the Pandavas, announced themselves to him, each uttering his own name.  Dhritarashtra, exceedingly afflicted with grief on account of the slaughter of his sons, then reluctantly embraced the eldest son of Pandu, who was the cause of that slaughter.  Having embraced Yudhishthira the just and spoken a few words of comfort to him, O Bharata, the wicked-souled Dhritarashtra sought for Bhima, like a blazing fire ready to burn everything that would approach it.  Indeed, that fire of his wrath, fanned by the wind of his grief, seemed then to be ready to consume the Bhima-forest.  Ascertaining the evil intentions cherished by him towards Bhima, Krishna, dragging away the real Bhima, presented an iron statue of the second son of Pandu to the old king.  Possessed of great intelligence, Krishna had, at the very outset, understood the intentions of Dhritarashtra, and had, therefore, kept such a contrivance ready for baffling them.  Seizing with his two arms that iron Bhima, king Dhritarashtra, possessed of great strength, broke into pieces, thinking it to be Bhima himself in flesh and blood.  Endued with might equal to that of 10,000 elephants, the king reduced that statue into fragments.  His own breast, however, became considerably bruised and he began to vomit blood.  Covered with blood, the king fell down on the ground like a parijata tree topped with its flowery burden.  His learned charioteer Sanjaya, the son of Gavalgana, raised the monarch and soothing and comforting him, said, Do not act so.  The king then, having cast off his wrath and returned to his normal disposition, became filled with grief and began to weep aloud, saying, Alas, oh Bhima, alas, oh Bhima!  Understanding that he was no longer under the influence of wrath, and that he was truly