three o'clock
The general , who was at that time down at the bridge of boats superintending operations , was in despair that only a portion of his 3d division had so far crossed the stream ; it would soon be day , and they were liable to be attacked at any moment . He therefore sent instructions to the several organizations of his command to make at once for Sedan , each independently of the others , by the most direct roads , while he himself , leaving orders to burn the bridge of boats , took the road on the left bank with his 2d division and the artillery , and the 3d division pursued that on the right bank ; the 1st , that had felt the enemy 's claws at Beaumont , was flying in disorder across the country , no one knew where . Of the 7th corps , that had not seen a battle , all that remained were those scattered , incoherent fragments , lost among lanes and by-roads , running away in the darkness . It was not yet three o'clock , and the night was as black as ever . Maurice , although he knew the country , could not make out where they were in the noisy , surging throng that filled the road from ditch to ditch , pouring onward like a brawling mountain stream . Interspersed among the regiments were many fugitives from the rout at Beaumont , in ragged uniforms , begrimed with blood and dirt , who inoculated the others with their own terror . Down the wide valley , from the wooded hills across the stream , came one universal , all-pervading uproar , the scurrying tramp of other hosts in swift retreat ; the 1st corps , coming from Carignan and Douzy , the 12th flying from Mouzon with the shattered remnants of the 5th , moved like puppets and driven onward , all of them , by that one same , inexorable , irresistible pressure that since the 28th had been urging the army northward and driving it into the trap where it was to meet its doom .