Page:Joseph and His Brethren A Pageant Play.djvu/80



[To ] Be-gone, or perish!

[With a low laugh] Go, Wakara.

[With a touch of mockery] Well—? She is gone, my lord.

Forty years have I faced strange deaths, yet never until now knew I fear.

Of what is my lord afraid?

Of thy beauty.

Gaze on my beauty, till fear be fled.

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?

Come nearer. Give me thy hand.

[Sinking on his knees and seizing her hand] Thine is like a burning coal.

It is hot with shame.

Shame!

My lord hath scorned my gift.

What gift have I scorned?

[Watching him keenly] I gave my lord a slave. My lord hasteneth to be rid of him.

Joseph—? Ah! Why speak of him now?

Why, truly? What is one slave more or less, even though I gave him?

I thought to please thee!

By scorning my gift? So thou wilt soon scorn all I give thee.