FullReads

Madam Potiphar comes to the window.

MADAM POTIPHAR.
That–that is the slave we were speaking of. . . .

ASENATH.
Joseph? . . . I wonder if it is the same one? . . .

MADAM POTIPHAR.
Well–and what if it were?

ASENATH.
He was really a very interesting young man. . . .

MADAM POTIPHAR.
If you are so anxious to find out, why don’t you go and talk to him?

ASENATH.
( coolly )

I think I shall.

She starts toward the door.

MADAM POTIPHAR.
( shocked )

Asenath! You, a daughter of the High Priest of Heliopolis–

ASENATH.
As such, I am quite accustomed to doing as I please.

She goes out.

MADAM POTIPHAR.
( looking amusedly after her )

Silly little thing!

( She stands there thinking.)
There’s no doubt of it!
Joseph did come from Heliopolis last year.
But what have I to be afraid of?

( She sees a pair of sandals on the floor by the table.

She picks one of them up, and kisses it passionately, whispering )

–Joseph!

Enter Potiphar. Madam Potiphar puts the sandal behind her back.

POTIPHAR.
( a dull, dignified gentleman )

Oh, here’s where you are! I was looking everywhere for you. But where’s your cousin?

MADAM POTIPHAR.
She will be back in a moment.
I brought her here to show her the educated slave of
whom you are so proud, at work. But he is away somewhere, as usual.

POTIPHAR.
( defensively )

He has other duties.

MADAM POTIPHAR.
Oh, yes, no doubt!

POTIPHAR.
What’s the matter now?

MADAM POTIPHAR.
Nothing new. You know what I think about this Joseph of yours.

POTIPHAR.
( irritated )

Now, if you are going to bring that subject up again–!
Well, I tell you flatly, I won’t do it.

MADAM POTIPHAR.
You’d better take my advice!

POTIPHAR.
It’s the most unreasonable thing I ever heard of! For the first time in my life I get an efficient secretary–and you want me to get rid of him. It’s ridiculous. What have you against Joseph, anyway?

MADAM POTIPHAR.
I–I don’t think he’s honest.

POTIPHAR.
Honest! Who expects the secretary of a government official to be honest? I don’t want an honest man in charge of my affairs–all I want is a capable one. Besides, how would I know whether he is honest or not? I can’t bother to go over his accounts, and I couldn’t understand them if I did. Mathematics, my dear, is not an art that high-class Egyptians excel in. It takes slaves and Hebrews for that.

MADAM POTIPHAR.
Well, just because he is able to add up a row of figures is no reason why he should be so high-handed with everybody. One would think he was the master here, instead of a slave.

POTIPHAR.
A private secretary, my dear, is different from an ordinary slave. You mustn’t expect him to behave like a doorkeeper. I remember now, he complained that you kept wanting him to run errands for you.

MADAM POTIPHAR.
Yes, and he refused–in the most insolent manner.
He is a proud and scheming man, I tell you.
I am sure he is plotting some villainy against you.