high-class Egyptians excel in. It takes slaves and Hebrews for that.

MADAM POTIPHAR. Well, just because he is able to add up a row of
figures is no reason why he should be so high-handed with everybody.
One would think he was the master here, instead of a slave.

POTIPHAR. A private secretary, my dear, is different from an ordinary
slave. You mustn't expect him to behave like a doorkeeper. I remember
now, he complained that you kept wanting him to run errands for you.

MADAM POTIPHAR. Yes, and he refused--in the most insolent manner. He is
a proud and scheming man, I tell you. I am sure he is plotting some
villainy against you.

POTIPHAR. (_wearily_) Yes, you have said that before.

MADAM POTIPHAR. I say it again. Joseph is a scoundrel.

POTIPHAR. You'll have to do more than say it, my dear. What proof have
you of his villainy?

MADAM POTIPHAR. I think you might trust to my womanly intuition.

POTIPHAR. Bah! Joseph is going to stay! Do you understand?

_He pounds on the table for emphasis. Madam Potiphar takes advantage
of the occasion to drop the sandal unnoticed_.

MADAM POTIPHAR. Well, you needn't create a domestic scene. Asenath may
return at any moment.