Now he awoke from his day-dream to find himself tired and hungry, but fortunately not very far from that quarter of Paris where food is easily obtainable.
He was somewhere near the Madeleine--a quarter he knew well.

Soon he saw in front of him a small eating-house which looked fairly clean and orderly.

He pushed open its swing-door, and seeing an empty table in a secluded part of the room, he sat down and ordered some supper.
The place made no impression upon his memory.

He could not have told you an hour later where it was situated, who had served him, what he had eaten, or what other persons were present in the dining-room at the time that he himself entered it.
Having eaten, however, he felt more like his normal self--more conscious of his actions.

When he finally left the eating-house, he realised, for instance, that it was very cold--a fact of which he had for the past few hours been totally unaware.