JOSEPH. (_still writing_) Is she?

MADAM POTIPHAR. She doesn't put it just that way. She says she takes an interest in your future.

JOSEPH. (_continuing to work_) She doesn't take half as much interest in it as I do.

MADAM POTIPHAR. She told me your romantic story: how you had been sold by your brothers into slavery because you wore a coat of many colours.

Joseph, did you wear a coat of many colours? That seems a curious thing for any one to be angry about.

JOSEPH. (_not ceasing to copy the ma.n.u.script_) I wore it only figuratively--I am wearing it now. And it _always_ makes _you_ angry.

MADAM POTIPHAR. You mean the cloak of your insolence?

JOSEPH. I mean the cloak of my pride.

MADAM POTIPHAR. I can sympathize with your brothers. . . . Are you in love with her, Joseph?

JOSEPH. I am not.

_He has finished--he rolls up the papyrus_.

MADAM POTIPHAR. No--so I told her.

JOSEPH. But she didn't believe you.

MADAM POTIPHAR. You seem to know our conversation pretty well.

JOSEPH. I can imagine it.

MADAM POTIPHAR. Well, go ahead and imagine it. What did we say?

JOSEPH. You both lied to each other.

MADAM POTIPHAR. About what?

JOSEPH. About me.

MADAM POTIPHAR. (_sitting up_) Your conceit is insufferable!

JOSEPH. (_rising politely_) I hope so.

MADAM POTIPHAR. Is that a dismissal?

JOSEPH. If you will be so kind.

MADAM POTIPHAR. You interest me more and more.

JOSEPH. I feared as much.

MADAM POTIPHAR. I detest you!

JOSEPH. It is one of the symptoms.

MADAM POTIPHAR. Young man, do you really know nothing about love?

JOSEPH. If I don't, it is not the fault of the women of Egypt.

MADAM POTIPHAR. You are a strange youth. It cannot be that you love this work you are doing....

JOSEPH. No, madam--I _hate_ it.

MADAM POTIPHAR. Then where do you find your happiness? Tell me, Joseph--what is the happiest hour of the day for you?

JOSEPH. (_with complete sincerity_) It is that hour when I have finished the day's work, and can lie down upon my couch. It is the hour before sleep comes, when the room is filled with moonlight, and there is no sound except the crickets singing in the orchard, and the music of the toads in the pool. The wind of the night comes in, cool with dew. Then I am happy--for I can lie and make plans for my future.

MADAM POTIPHAR. (_softly_) And in that hour of moonlight and dew and the music of the crickets, and the ancient love-song of the toads in the pool, when all the earth abandons itself to love,--what would you say to a woman who stole in to you like a moonbeam, like a breath of the night-wind, like a strain of music?

JOSEPH. I would tell her--to go, as her presence would interfere with my plans.

MADAM POTIPHAR. I call the G.o.ds to witness. A truly virtuous young man!

JOSEPH. (_jumping down from the table, angrily_) Virtue! Virtue!

Oh, you stupid Egyptians! As though I cared about Virtue!

MADAM POTIPHAR. Well, what in the name of all the G.o.ds is it that you care about?

JOSEPH. (_vehemently_) In the name of all the G.o.ds, madam, I care about time.

MADAM POTIPHAR. Time! But what can you do with time?

JOSEPH. What can I do _without_ it?

MADAM POTIPHAR. But I do not understand!

JOSEPH. (_in a cold rage_) Of course you do not understand. You are a great lady--and a fool. I am a wise man--and but an hour ago a slave. I have more intellect than all the population of Egypt put together. Do you expect me to be content to remain as I am? I want power and riches--and I intend to achieve them. And I cannot achieve them if I allow women to waste my time.

MADAM POTIPHAR. (_deeply angered at last_) Very well, I go--taking your secret with me! (_She goes_.)

JOSEPH. (_furiously, to the empty room_) Virtue! My G.o.d!

_He sits down at his desk and writes vexedly_.

_Night. The room is filled with moonlight. Joseph is asleep at his desk.... He suddenly springs up in agitation_.

JOSEPH. Ah! . . . It was only a dream! But what a dream! I thought I saw at the door--(_he points_) a strange and terrible animal!

(_There is a sound at the door, and he starts back in terror_.) _There it is now_!

_The curtains part, and Asenath enters, candle in hand_.

ASENATH. Ssh! It is I--Asenath! Don't be afraid!