ASENATH. (startled) Joseph! Is that his name?
MADAM POTIPHAR. Yes—"Joseph." An ugly, foreign-sounding name, don't you think?
ASENATH. It is rather an odd name—but I've heard it before. It was the name of a youth who used to be one of my father's slaves in Heliopolis.
MADAM POTIPHAR. Heliopolis? I wonder—what was he like?
ASENATH. Oh, he was a pretty boy, with nice manners.
MADAM POTIPHAR. I thought for a moment it might be the same one. But this Joseph is an ill-favoured creature—and insolent. . . . What colour was his hair?
ASENATH. I really don't remember. It's been a year since he was there…. You have a lovely house, my dear. I'm so glad I came to see you!
MADAM POTIPHAR. (also willing to change the subject) It's nice to see you again, dear Asenath. We haven't seen each other since we were little girls. Do you remember how we played together in the date-orchard? And the long, long talks we had?
ASENATH. Don't let's be sentimental about our childhood! MADAM POTIPHAR. Do you remember how we talked about being married? (Asenath goes to the little window.) We hated all men, as I remember.
ASENATH. I was eight years old then. . . . Who is that handsome young man I see out there?