JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN
Potiphar [To Wakara] Be-gone, or perish!
Zuleika [With a low laugh] Go, Wakara.
Zuleika [With a touch of mockery] Well—? She is gone, my lord.
Potiphar. Forty years have I faced strange deaths, yet never until now knew I fear.
Zuleika. Of what is my lord afraid?
Potiphar. Of thy beauty.
Zuleika. Gaze on my beauty, till fear be fled.
Potiphar. The longer I gaze, the more will fear grow. [He advances a step] This is mine? All mine? Dare I come nearer? Dare I touch thee?
Zuleika. Come nearer. Give me thy hand.
Potiphar. [Sinking on his knees and seizing her hand] Thine is like a burning coal.
Zuleika. It is hot with shame.
Potiphar. Shame!
Zuleika. My lord hath scorned my gift.
Potiphar. What gift have I scorned?
Zuleika [Watching him keenly] I gave my lord a slave. My lord hasteneth to be rid of him.
Potiphar. Joseph—? Ah! Why speak of him now?
Zuleika. Why, truly? What is one slave more or less, even though I gave him?
Potiphar. I thought to please thee!
Zuleika. By scorning my gift? So thou wilt soon scorn all I give thee.
54