[ALL, on the point of going, turn.]
MENTHU: What more, my lord?
POTIPHAR: When this marvel came hither, she brought me many gifts; but none more welcome than this lad, whom she had saved from death. And now, in the hour of love's triumph, Joseph hath told me he, too, is in love's thrall, but dare not speak, being a slave. What better gift can I give thee, Zuleikha, than Joseph's freedom?
[ASENATH gives a little cry of joy.]
ZULEIKHA: [Hardly able to restrain a cry of rage.] My lord—!
JOSEPH: [Throwing himself at POTIPHAR'S feet.] Oh my good lord—
POTIPHAR: I will load thee with gifts, and thou shalt go back to thine own land.
ZULEIKHA: [Hastily.] If Joseph love, perchance the woman he loveth is here, and, in sending him hence, thou art sending him from her.
POTIPHAR: Why, she shall go with him!
ZULEIKHA: Perchance she is the one who cannot go.
POTIPHAR: How might that be?—Speak, Joseph, who is she?
[JOSEPH and ASENATH exchange glances.]
JOSEPH: Under my favor, I cannot speak before all these.
ZULEIKHA: [Amiable, but with suppressed fury.] Is it one of my maids?
JOSEPH: No, my lady.
THE SIX MAIDS: [In the background, involuntarily.] Alas, no!
POTIPHAR: [Laughing] Keep thy secret until we are
