MADAM POTIPHAR. Well, what in the name of all the gods is it that you care about?
JOSEPH. (vehemently) In the name of all the gods, 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 God!
He sits down at his desk and writes vexedly.
* * * * *