noon
The plain of Illy , the heights of La Moncelle , Daigny , Givonne , and Frénois were vast cemeteries . Dredging was going on along the river , whither the curious small boys of Sedan betook themselves and stayed from morning till night watching the recovering of rusty sabres , bayonets , rifles , cannon , and often more grewsome flotsam . It was probably the latter that drew the small boys like flies ; neither the one nor the other are easily glutted with horrors . The silver trumpets of the Saxon Riders were chorusing the noon call from the Porte de Paris when a long train crept into the Sedan station and pulled up in the sunshine , surrounded by a cordon of Hanover Riflemen . One by one the passengers passed into the station , where passports were shown and apathetic commissaires took charge of the baggage . There were no hacks , no conveyances of any kind , so the tall , white-bearded gentleman in black , who stood waiting anxiously for his passport , gave his arm to an old lady , heavily veiled , and bowed down with the sudden age that great grief brings . Beside her walked a young girl , also in deep mourning .