Mme. Edith had the unkindness to interrupt the jubilations of her uncle by announcing to him that Prince Galitch, who had purchased the Grotto of Romeo and Juliet at Rochers Rouges, must have made some sensational discovery, for she had seen him, the very morning of Old Bob’s departure for Paris, passing by the Fort of Hercules, carrying under his arm a little box which he had touched as he went by, calling out to her, “See, Mrs. Rance! I have found a treasure!” She said that she had asked him what the treasure was, but he had walked on laughing, with the remark that he would have a surprise for Old Bob on his return. And later, she had heard that Prince Galitch had declared that he had discovered “the oldest skull in the history of the human race.” Mrs. Rance had scarcely pronounced these last words when every vestige of gayety fled from Old Bob’s face and manner. His eyes shot fire and his voice was husky with passion as he exclaimed: “That is a lie--an infernal lie! The oldest skull in the history of the human race is Old Bob’s skull--do you understand me?--it is Old Bob’s skull.” And he shouted out: “Mattoni! Mattoni! Bring my trunk here at once!” Almost as soon as the words were spoken, we saw Mattoni crossing the Court of Charles the Bold with Old Bob’s trunk on his shoulder. He obeyed the professor to the letter, and carried the trunk through the room and up to his master. Old Bob took his bunch of keys, got down on his knees and opened the box. From this receptacle, which contained his clothing and piles of clean linen, neatly folded, he took a hat box, and from the hat box he drew out a skull, which he placed in the middle of the table among our coffee cups. “The oldest skull in the history of humanity!” he echoed. “Here it is! It is Old Bob’s skull! Look at it! Oh, I can tell you, Old Bob never goes anywhere without his skull!” And he took up the frightful object and began to caress it, his eyes sparkling and his thick lips parting once more in a broad smile. If you will represent to yourself that Old Bob knew French only imperfectly and pronounced it like English or Spanish (he spoke Spanish like a native), you will see and hear the scene. Rouletabille and I were unable longer to control ourselves, and nearly split our sides with laughter--all the more, because Old Bob every few moments would interrupt himself in the midst of a peal of merriment to demand of us what was the object of our mirth. His wrath was almost as funny as his mirth, and even Mme. Darzac could not refrain from laughter, for, in truth, Old Bob, with his “oldest skull of the human race,” was a droll sight to see. I must acknowledge, too, that a skull two hundred thousand years old is not such an unpleasant sight as one might expect it to be, especially when, like this one, it has all its teeth. Suddenly Old Bob grew serious. He lifted the skull in his right hand and placed the forefinger of the left hand upon the forehead of his ancestor.