In October 1908, Paul returned to the Janson-de-Sailly high school, under the watchful eye of

In October 1908, Paul returned to the Janson-de-Sailly high school, under the watchful eye of supervisors, the headmaster, and the offended senior students. That year, he was fortunate to have an excellent teacher, Mr. Charmeil, who taught the three literatures: French, Latin, and Greek. German was taught by an elderly bearded man, while physics and chemistry were taught by a robust, ruddy man who resembled a construction foreman. The laboratory instruments for chemistry demonstrations fascinated Paul with their picturesque and novel appeal, but touching them was strictly forbidden. Only the teacher conducted experiments. Arithmetic, mathematics, and geometry were deeply scorned in the second year. However, botany and biology were close to his rural heart.

Geography could be a tedious exercise in basic cartography, memorization, and recitation or a marvelous journey of discovery through landscapes and contemporary humanity. These geography classes were indeed the only gateway to modern life and machinery at the school. Yet, it required the teacher, who also taught history, to connect the study of geography with economics. Then everything became illuminated with movement and life. Rivers were no longer just blue lines on a map; they became beautiful currents lined with canals, filled with the wealth produced by human labor. Cities were no longer points and circles topped with capital letters but centers of intelligence, production, and product circulation. The plains depicted in green on the «physical» atlas were covered with bountiful crops and heavy vineyards, filled with mining pits and quarries. Mountains in yellow and brown streamed with white coal, herds, pastures, and impenetrable, snowy masses pierced by tunnels. The sea, with its green pencil strokes, spoke of its bustling ports, docks where goods from all corners of the world mixed in a jumble, all dialects, and all colors.

Continents drew closer under the influence of economic necessities, and Paul, thirsty for travel and nourished by memories of his family’s journeys, already saw the outline of the modern world through Mr. Lyon’s classes: the world’s face expressed in tons of merchandise, millions of people, and billions of gold. Paul read people, their toil, and their passion on the map. Therefore, he attempted to transplant his vision of the modern world into the study of historical events.