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[The Ethiopian Slaves have entered unperceived and stand behind Zuleika]
Zuleika [Mockingly] Oh, my lord, were I to speak to thee, in a moment I should win thy love again: which the gods forbid. I heed neither thy love nor thy hate. Farewell.
[At a movement from Potiphar, the Slaves step forward. Zuleika for a moment sways with terror, then she draws herself up and speaks contemptuously]
Zuleika. Death? A poor triumph, my lord. It is so easy to slay.
Potiphar. Not death. [To the Slaves] Take her.
[She walks proudly amid the Slaves to the rear of the Pyramid, where a fitful red glow rises and falls as if the fires were being fanned. They disappear round the angle. Potiphar stands rigid, listening]
[Suddenly there is a ghastly cry]
[Potiphar rends his garment from head to foot, and sinks on the ground.]
Potiphar. The eyes that offended have atoned.
The Scene Changes
