midnight
What a scene it was to see the poor and wasted forms , mangled by shot and maimed of limb , brightening up again as home and friends surrounded them , -- to hear their faint voices mingle with the questions for this one or for that , while the fate of some brave fellow met but one word in elegy ! On they passed , -- a sad train , but full of glorious memories . There were the grenadiers of Oudinot , who carried the Russian centre ; eleven wagons were filled with their wounded . Here come the voltigeurs of Bernadotte 's brigade ; see how the fellows preserve their ancient repute , cheering and laughing , -- ever the same , whether roistering at midnight in the Faubourg St. Antoine or rushing madly upon the ranks of the enemy ! There are the dragoons of Nansouty , who charged the Imperial Guard of Russia ; see the proud line that floats on their banner , `` All wounded by the sabre ! '' And here come the cuirassiers of the Guard , with a detachment of their own as escort ; how splendidly they look in the bright sun , and how proudly they come ! As I looked , the Emperor rode forward , bareheaded , his whole staff uncovered .