MADAM POTIPHAR. You don't begrudge my guest that much of your attention, do you? You know I cannot bear to ride behind those wild horses of yours. And she said she wanted to see the city.

POTIPHAR. Oh--I'll go. But I must see to my chariot. (_He claps his hands. A servant appears, and bows deeply_.) Send Joseph here at once.

_With another deep bow, the slave disappears. A pause_.

MADAM POTIPHAR. Now you know what it is to have your slave off attending to some business of his own when you want him.

POTIPHAR. (_annoyed_) Where can he be?

_Enter Joseph_.

JOSEPH. (_ignoring Madam Potiphar, and making a slight bow to Potiphar_) Here I am, sir.

POTIPHAR. (_after a triumphant glance at his wife_) Have my chariot made ready for me, will you?

JOSEPH. It will give me great pleasure to do so, sir.

_He bows slightly, and goes out_.

MADAM POTIPHAR. Did you notice his insolence?

POTIPHAR. There you go again! He said he was glad to do it for me. What more do you want?

MADAM POTIPHAR. You are the stupidest man in Egypt.

POTIPHAR. Thank you, my dear.

_Joseph returns_.

POTIPHAR. Is the chariot ready so soon, Joseph?

JOSEPH. The chariot is quite ready.

POTIPHAR. Very well. (_A pause_) And are those accounts finished yet, Joseph?

JOSEPH. The accounts are quite finished. And I would like to suggest, if I may--

_He is interrupted by the re-entrance of Asenath_.

ASENATH. What a lovely garden you have!

MADAM POTIPHAR. (_significantly_) Yes!

ASENATH. The pomegranate blossoms are so beautiful!

MADAM POTIPHAR. You could hardly tear yourself away, could you?

POTIPHAR. (_with a patient smile_) And are you ready for your chariot ride now?

ASENATH. Oh, yes! I am so eager to see the city! But I fear my hair needs a touch or two, first. . . .

MADAM POTIPHAR. It is so hard to keep one's hair in order when one walks in the garden. I will take you to my room, dear Asenath. (_To Potiphar_) We shall be ready presently.

POTIPHAR. The horses are waiting!

ASENATH. It won't take me but a moment!

MADAM POTIPHAR. Come, my dear. (_They go toward the door_.) I am so glad you liked our garden--

_They go out_.

POTIPHAR. (_turning to Joseph_) What were you going to say, Joseph?

JOSEPH. You asked me about my accounts. I was about to suggest that I show them to you tonight, when you return from your ride.

POTIPHAR. (_alarmed_) No! No! I don't want to see them. . . . I just want to know that everything is getting on well.

JOSEPH. Everything is getting along quite well.

POTIPHAR. Very good. I have complete confidence in you. . . . Joseph-- you have a mathematical mind; how long would you say it would take a woman to do her hair?

JOSEPH. Not less than half an hour, sir--especially if she has something to talk about with another woman while she is doing it.

POTIPHAR. (_surprised_) What should _they_ have to talk about?

JOSEPH. Secrets.

POTIPHAR. Secrets?

JOSEPH. What things are women especially interested in, sir?

POTIPHAR. Dress, perhaps?

JOSEPH. Perhaps.

POTIPHAR. Housekeeping?

JOSEPH. I doubt it, sir.

POTIPHAR. Joseph, you perturb me. Besides food and dress, there is only one subject, so far as I am aware, of interest to women. I hope you do not imply--

JOSEPH. Far be it from me, sir, to indulge in implications, with respect to an honoured guest, in the household in which I am a slave.

POTIPHAR. Still--it is hard to tell, sometimes. Women are mysterious creatures. What do _you_ think of them, Joseph?

JOSEPH. I try not to, sir.

POTIPHAR. You are a wise man. Yes, I suppose you have your difficulties, too. The morality of the slave-girls is not all it should be. But if you will believe me, the morality of our women, too--