fled away,
overwhelmed with fear, and saying unto one another, "This one is no human
being!" When Bhima had assumed that form, people, beholding him quaff his
enemy's blood, fled away with Citrasena, saying unto one another, 'This
Bhima must be a Rakshasa!" Then the (Pancala) prince Yudhamanyu, at the
head of his troops, fearlessly pursued the retreating Citrasena and
pierced him with seven keen shafts, quickly sped one after another. At
this, like a trampled snake of great energy repeatedly darting out its
tongue and desirous of vomiting its poison, Citrasena turned back and
pierced the Pancala prince with three shafts and his driver with six. The
brave Yudhamanyu then struck off his enemy's head with a shaft equipped
with goodly wings and an exceedingly keen point and sped with great care
from his bow drawn to its fullest stretch. Upon the fall of his brother
Citrasena, Karna, filled with wrath and displaying his prowess, put the
Pandava host to flight, at which Nakula rushed against that warrior of
immeasurable energy. Bhima, having slain there (at the very sight of
Karna) the vindictive Duhshasana, took up a little quantity of his blood,
and, endued with stentorian lungs, he said these words in the hearing of
all those foremost of heroes of the world, "O wretch amongst men, here I
drink thy life-blood from thy throat. Filled with joy, abuse us once
more, saying 'beast, beast' (as thou didst before)." And he continued,
"They that danced at us then, saying, 'beast, beast,' even we will dance
at them now, repeating their own words. Our sleep at the palace at
Pramanakoti, the administration of deadly poison to our food, the bites
of black cobras, the setting fire to the house of lac, the robbing of our
kingdom by gambling, our exile in the woods, the cruel seizure of
Draupadi's beautiful tresses, the strokes of shafts and weapons in
battle, our miseries at home, the other kinds of sufferings we endured at
Virata's abode, all these woes borne by us through the counsels of
Shakuni and Duryodhana and Radha's son, proceeded from thee as their
cause. Through the wickedness of Dhritarashtra and his son, we have
endured all these woes. Happiness has never been ours." Having said these
words, O king, the victorious Vrikodara, once more spoke these words unto
Keshava and Arjuna. Indeed, bathed in blood, with blood flowing from his
wounds, with face exceedingly red, filled with great wrath, Bhimasena
endued with great activity, sa