In our earlier adventures there was generally something to do, and that quickened us.  Even the showers of rain had a revivifying effect, and shook up the brain from torpor.  But now, when the river no longer ran in a proper sense, only glided seaward with an even, outright, but imperceptible speed, and when the sky smiled upon us day after day without variety, we began to slip into that golden doze of the mind which follows upon much exercise in the open air.  I have stupefied myself in this way more than once; indeed, I dearly love the feeling; but I never had it to the same degree as when paddling down the Oise.  It was the apotheosis of stupidity.

We ceased reading entirely.  Sometimes when I found a new paper, I took a particular pleasure in reading a single number of the current novel; but I never could bear more than three instalments; and even the second was a disappointment.  As soon as the tale became in any way perspicuous, it lost all merit in my eyes; only a single scene, or, as is the way with these feuilletons, half a scene, without antecedent or consequence, like a piece of a dream, had the knack of fixing my interest.  The less I saw of the novel, the better I liked it:  a pregnant reflection.  But for the most part, as I said, we neither of us read anything in the world, and employed the very little while we were awake between bed and dinner in poring upon maps.  I have always been fond of maps, and can voyage in an atlas with the greatest enjoyment.  The names of places are singularly inviting; the contour of coasts and rivers is enthralling to the eye; and to hit, in a map, upon some place you have heard of before, makes history a new possession.  But we thumbed our charts, on these evenings, with the blankest unconcern.  We cared not a fraction for this place or that.  We stared at the sheet as children listen to their rattle; and read the names of towns or villages to forget them again at once.  We had no romance in the matter; there was nobody so fancy-free.  If you had taken the maps away while we were studying them most intently, it is a fair bet whether we might not have continued to study the table with the same delight.

About one thing we were mightily taken up, and that was eating.  I think I made a god of my belly.  I remember dwelling in imagination upon this or that dish till my mouth watered; and long before we got in for the night my appetite was a clamant, instant annoyance.  Sometimes we paddled alongside for a while and whetted each other with gastronomical fancies as we went.  Cake and sherry, a homely rejection, but not within reach upon the Oise, trotted through my head for many a mile; and once, as we were approaching Verberie, the Cigarette brought my heart into my mouth by the suggestion of oyster-patties and Sauterne.