That wicked youth, whose heart was a razor, but whose tongue was ambrosia, rose like a (loving) brother and friend. The wicked man himself fed (Bhima) with a large quantity of it. Bhima too ate it, knowing that there was nothing wrong. Thereupon Duryodhana felt himself very happy in his mind; that worst of men thought that he had compassed his end.
स्वयमुत्थाय चैवाथ हृदयेन क्षुरोपमः। स वाचामृतकल्पश्च भ्रातृवच्च सुहृद् यथा॥ स्वयं प्रक्षिपते भक्ष्यं बहु भीमस्य पापकृत्। प्रतीच्छितं स्म भीमेन तं वै दोषमजानता॥ ततो दुर्योधनस्तत्र हृदयेन हसन्निवा कृतकृत्यमिवात्मानं मन्यते पुरुषाधमः॥