Joseph and His Brothers, page 114
breasts visibly heaved beneath the deHcate taut fabric; her one hope was that her majestic demeanor made such a gasp seem so improbable that, however obvious, it would go unnoticed.
Given the circumstances, she knew she ought to speak, but it demanded such effort that she was ashamed of the heroic courage it cost her.
"It is, as I now see," she said in a cool voice, "a most inappropriate hour for idle women to stroll along this path, for they obstruct the official rounds of him who stands over this house."
"Only you, my mistress," he replied at once, "stand over this house, as its morning and evening star, which is called Ishtar in the land of my mother and which like all things divine is indeed idle, yet it is to its tranquil rays that we who toil look up for refreshment."
She thanked him with a wave of her hand and a smile of obliging agreement. She was both delighted and offended by the self-indulgence of a compliment that referred straightway to his mother, a woman totally unknown to her, and was gnawed by jealousy of the mother who had borne him, nursed him, guided his steps, called him by name, brushed the hair from his brow, and kissed him as only pure love allows.
"We shall step aside," she said, "I and my servants, who are accompanying me today as always, so that we may not impede the overseer, who doubtless wishes to determine before dark whether Petepre's gardens are in proper condition and wishes perhaps even to visit the little cottage upon the embankment."
"The garden and its temple," Joseph replied, "are of little concern to me so long as I am standing before my mistress."
"It seems to me that they ought to concern you at all times and enjoy your services above all else," she responded—and how terribly sweet and daring it was simply to speak with him, to say "me" and "you," "you" and "I," to address him and, by sending the breath of words across the two short steps that separated their bodies, to establish a relationship and a commonality. "For it is well known that they are the source of your good fortune. I have heard it said that you were first permitted to offer your services as a mute servant in the cottage and that you first captured Petepre's eye in the orchard, where you were 'riding' palm trees."
"So it was," he said with a laugh, and his laugh was a knife whose levity pierced her heart. "Just as you have said, so it was, my gra-
cious lady. I was performing the task of the wind high in Petepre's palm trees, as instructed by the herbalist, the man they call—but I cannot remember or would prefer not to repeat the name, for it is absurdly vulgar and nothing for my mistress's ear ..." She stared at the jocular youth, but did not smile. It was a good thing—indeed essential, though also very painful—that he evidently had no idea that she was not in any mood for jests, or why; let him assume that her earnestness in rejecting them was a remnant of her hostility to his rise in the house—but she wanted him to notice it. "As instructed by the gardener," he said, "I was assisting the wind here in the garden, when Pharaoh's friend came past and bade me speak, and because I found favor before him, many things have had their origin in that hour."
"People," she added, "have lived and died on your behalf."
"The Hidden One accompHshes all things," he replied, making use of a term for the Most High that would not offend. "May His name be glorified! But I often ask myself whether I have not been favored by His aid beyond what I deserve, and I have private fears that such an office has been bestowed upon me at so tender an age and that I walk about as an overseer, as the eldest servant of this house, and yet cannot be all that much more than twenty. I speak openly before you, great mistress, though it is not only you who hear me, for you obviously did not come to the garden alone but are accompanied by maids of honor, as befits your rank. They too hear me and for good or ill have learned how the steward indicts his youth and expresses doubt as to his maturity for such high service. Let them hear! I must chance their presence, for I will not allow it to constrain your trust in me, mistress of my head and heart, of my hands and feet."
There are, after all, advantages to falling in love with someone of lower rank, who must submit to us, for his status requires those turns of phrase that make us happy, even when they may mean next to nothing to him.
"It goes without saying," she replied, assuming a still more majestic pose, "that I do not stroll about unescorted—that can never happen. Speak, however, without care of compromising yourself before Hezes and Me'et, my handmaids, for their ears are my ears— what did you wish to say?"
"Only this, my mistress—my authority is greater than my years,
and it would not surprise your servant, indeed he would have had to pronounce it fair and just, if his rapid ascendancy to stewardship in this house were accompanied not only with approval but perhaps also with displeasure and some opposition. I had a father, Usir Mont-kaw, who raised me out of the goodness of his heart, and would that, by the grace of the Hidden One, he were still alive. For I was much the better then in my young years and could speak of my good fortune, was still his mouth and his right hand, before he entered through the secret gates and into the splendid places of the lords of eternity, leaving me alone now with more duties and cares than I number in years; and in my immaturity I have no one in the world whom I may ask for advice, who might help me bear a burden beneath which I am bent low. Long may Petepre, our great master, live, whole and healthy, but it is widely known that he has no concern for anything but what he eats and drinks and boldly to prevail against the hippopotamus, and when I come to him with accounts and records, he is sure to say, Tine, fine, Osarsiph, my friend, it is all in fine order. Your entries appear to be correct as far as I can see, and I assume that you intend me no harm, for you know what sin is and you have a sense of how monstrous it would be to cause me injury. Therefore do not weary me with this now.' Such are the words of our lord in his greatness. May blessing be upon his head." He looked to see if she had smiled at his imitation. It was a very small betrayal, done with great love and respect to be sure, a gentle attempt at winning her amused agreement to join him in going over the head of the master. He believed he might risk that much without violating his covenant. He went on believing that he might go that far and perhaps farther without any danger. There was no smile of agreement, however. He was glad of that, and at the same time sHghtly embarrassed.
"I am young and alone," he continued, "with so many questions and responsibilities that arise from questions of production and trade, of increasing, or of merely sustaining the estate. You saw me walking toward you just now, great lady, with a head full of worries about the sowing. For the river is in retreat and the beautiful feast of mourning approaches, when we dig the earth and bury the god in darkness and plow for barley and wheat. And the question that is now running through your servant's head is a proposal for innovation: that is, whether we ought not to plant a good deal more
sorghum in Potiphar's fields, especially on the island in the river, instead of the barley we have planted until now—I mean kaffir corn, the white sorghum grown by Negroes, for we already grow sufficient brown sorghum as fodder, and it satisfies the horses and fattens the cattle; but the change at issue is whether we ought not to plant a greater quantity of the white, plowing more acreage to provide food for humans, so that the servants may be nourished with good bread instead of with barley and lentil porridge and thereby grow stronger for service. For the kernels within the awn are rich in flour and fat with the fatness of the earth, so that the workers need less of it than of barley or lentils and we can sate them quicker and better. I cannot tell you how this keeps running through my head, and when I saw you, mistress, approaching with your escort through the evening garden, I took counsel in my soul and said to myself as if to another, *Behold, in your immaturity you are alone with the cares of this house and have no one with whom to share them, for the master has no concern for anything. But here the mistress comes in all her beauty, followed by two handmaids, as befits her rank. Why should you not confide in her and speak with her about this innovation, about the matter of kaffir corn, and you will sound out her opinion and her fine counsel will assist you in your youth.'"
Eni blushed, in part with delight, in part out of embarrassment, for she knew nothing of white sorghum and had no idea whether it would be good to plant more. In some confusion she said, "The question is worthy of discussion, that is plain as day. I shall consider it. Is the soil of the island favorable to such an innovation?"
"What experience my mistress displays in her question," Joseph replied, "knowing at once to touch upon the pulse of every matter. The soil is rich enough, and yet one must temper one's heart against initial failure. For the field hands do not rightly know how to plant white sorghum for human food, but only the brown, its sole purpose being animal fodder. What does my mistress suppose it costs to teach the workers to cultivate the earth with a hoe as finely as is required for white sorghum, or to bring them to understand that it cannot tolerate weeds as the brown can? And if they do not carefully trim the runners it prospers poorly, and though there is fodder, there is no food."
"It must be difficult indeed to deal with laborers who lack understanding," she said, turning now red, now white in her uneasiness.
since she knew nothing about such things and found herself hard-pressed to find an intelligent answer, although it was she who had wanted him to speak with her about affairs of business. Her conscience left her feeling deeply ashamed before her servant, utterly humiliated, for he spoke to her of such honest and seemly matters as the cultivation of food, whereas she wanted and knew only one thing: that she was in love with him and desired him.
"Difficult indeed," she repeated, conceaHng her trembling. "But everyone says that you know how to compel such people to do their duty and offer good service. And so presumably you will be successful at instructing them about this innovation."
His gaze went blank, for he was not listening to her babble, and she was glad, though terribly hurt at the same time. He stood there lost in true concern for affairs of business.
"The panicles of this grain," he said, "are very sturdy and pliant. One can make good brushes and brooms from them and so still have something useful both for household and trade if a harvest fails."
She fell silent, painfully offended, for she realized he no longer was thinking of her, but talking to himself about brooms, which, to be sure, were more respectable than her love. He at least noticed, however, that she was silent, and in alarm smiled the smile that won everyone to him and said, "Forgive me, mistress, for this low topic of conversation. I am to blame for wearying you. It comes of my immaturity, of my being alone with my responsibilities, and because I was so very tempted to consult with you."
"There is nothing to forgive," she replied. "It is an important matter, and the prospect of making brooms lessens the risk. That was my immediate response when you spoke to me of this innovation, and I wish to take the matter under further consideration."
She could not stand still, she had to get away from here, away from his nearness, which was dearer to her than all else. For lovers, it is an old conflict, this seeking out and fleeing the nearness of the other. But equally ancient are lies spoken about honest matters with contorted lips and dishonest eyes that seek out and flee. The fear he might realize that in talking about grain and brooms she had but one thing in mind: to caress his brow with her hand and kiss him like a possessive mother; the terrifying wish that he might realize as much and not despise her for it, but share her wish; this and her great
i
uncertainty about things like fodder and food, the topic of a conversation that for her was talk of love and lies—but how can one lie if one is ignorant of the ostensible topic of one's pretense and condemned to fumbling helplessly for words?—it all left her unutterably shamed and unnerved, sending hot and cold flashes over her, urging her to panicked flight.
Her feet twitched to be on their way, but her heart held to the spot—it is the ancient quandary of every lover. She tugged her cloak more tightly around her shoulders and said in a choked voice, "We shall have to continue this at another time and place, steward. Night is falling and I seem to have shivered just now in the chill." And indeed she was subject to little fits of shivering and, having no hope of hiding them entirely, had to find some external cause to explain them. "You have my promise that I shall take counsel with myself about this innovation, and you have my permission to speak with your mistress about this matter again soon, should you feel all too alone in your youth ..." She should not have attempted to speak this last word; it stuck in her throat, for the word spoke of him and him alone; it was a stronger synonym for that "you" that had threaded its way through their conversation of lies and constituted its truth, was the word of its magic and of her maternal possessive-ness, laden with tenderness and pain, so that it overwhelmed her and faded to a whisper. "Farewell," she managed yet in a last whisper and took flight, moving ahead of her handmaids and passing by her steward, whose knees were bent in respectful salutation.
One cannot stop to wonder too long at the fragility of love, at its rare and peculiar nature—that is, if one does not regard it as a banal commonplace, but looks with fresh eyes at how new, unprecedented, and unique each occurrence is, down to the present day. Such a great lady—elegant, lofty, arrogant, and worldly, coolly wrapped up until now in the egotism of her religious conceit—suddenly smitten by a "you" absolutely unworthy of her from her standpoint, but smitten all the same and feeling so fragile that her very status as his mistress disintegrated until she was scarcely capable of even maintaining her role as the mistress of love, as the provocative agent of emotion, and instead realized that she was already slave to this "you" who was her slave, and blindly fled from him on wobbly knees—shivering, thoughts fluttering, mumbled
words fluttering, oblivious of the handmaids she had purposely, proudly brought with her to her tryst.
"Lost, lost, betrayed, betrayed, I am lost, I have betrayed myself to him, he saw it all—the lie in my eyes, my fidgeting feet, my shivers—he saw it all, he despises me, it is over, and I must die. One should plant more kaffir corn, keep its runners trimmed, the panicles make good brooms. And how did I reply? With babble that betrayed me, he laughed at me, how horrible, I will have to kill myself. Was I at least beautiful? If I was beautiful there in the light, it may all be only half so bad, and I won't have to kill myself. The golden bronze of his shoulders . .. Oh, Amun in your shrine! 'Mistress of my head and heart, of my hands and feet'. .. Oh, Osarsiph! Do not speak to me like that with your lips, making fun of me in your heart, of my stammering and my trembling knees. I hope, I hope . . . even if all is lost and I must die after this misfortune, yet do I hope and do not despair, for not all is unfavorable, there is favor as well, indeed much favor, for I am your mistress, boy, and you must speak to me as sweetly as when you said 'Mistress of my head and heart,' even if it is only a turn of phrase and hollow courtesy. But words are strong, words are not spoken with impunity, they leave traces in the heart, even if spoken without feeling they speak to the feelings of him who speaks them, though you may lie with them, their magic shapes you according to their meaning, so that what you have said is no longer entirely a lie. That is very favorable and laden with hope, for the words that you must speak to me, your mistress, cultivate your emotions, my little slave, and make them rich and fine soil for the seed of my beauty, if I am lucky enough to appear beautiful to you in the light, and together my beauty and the servility of your words will become salvation and bliss from you to me, and they are the germ of an adoration that awaits only encouragement to become desire, for it is a certainty, my little boy, that adoration encouraged becomes desire . . . Oh, what a depraved woman I am! Shame on me for my serpent's thoughts! Shame upon my head and heart! Osarsiph, forgive me, my young master and savior, morning and evening star of my life! Why did things have to go so wrong today because of my fidgeting feet, so that all seems lost now? But I will not kill myself just yet or send for a venomous asp to apply to my breast, for there is much hope and favor left still. Tomorrow, tomorrow, and each day thereafter. He will remain with us, remain over the house,
Petepre refused my request to have him sold, I shall have to see him, always, and each day will dawn with favor and hope. 'We shall have to continue this at another time, steward. I will consider the matter and you have my permission to offer your petition again soon.' That was good, that was taking care of next time. Ah yes, you were at least prudent enough, Eni, despite all your madness, to provide for a sequel. He will have to come again, and if he tarries out of shyness, I shall send Dudu the dwarf to him, to admonish him. And then how I shall improve on everything that went wrong today, and I shall greet him with a calm grace, with feet in total repose, allowing, if I so please, only a Httle mild encouragement of his adoration to show through. And soon, perhaps this very next time, he may appear less beautiful to me, so that my heart will be cooled toward him and I can smile and jest with a free spirit and enflame his heart for me, while I suffer not at all. . . No, ah no, Osarsiph, that is not how it will be, those are serpent's thoughts, and I will gladly suffer for you, my master and my salvation, for your glory is like that of a firstborn bull. . ."
These fluttering words, some of which Hezes and Me'et, her handmaids, overheard to their astonishment, were only a few of many, of hundreds of soliloquies that escaped her during the year when she still tried to conceal her love from Joseph; and the preceding dialogue about kaffir corn is also representative of countless others like it, carried on at various times of day and at various locations: in the garden just as before, in the fountain courtyard of the house of women, even in the little temple on its hill, to which, however, Eni never came without her escort, just as Joseph was likely to have in his train one or two scribes carrying scrolls containing the accounts, plans, and documents he would present to her. For it was always affairs of business about which they spoke: rations, the tilling of fields, commerce, and various crafts, records of which the young steward would present to his mistress, instructing her and expressing his need for her advice. These were in fact the spurious topics of their conversations, and it should be acknowledged—though with a skeptical smile—that Joseph made a point of turning this pretense into substance, of involving the woman in practical concerns and seeking her honest interest in them—even on the basis, if need be, of her fondness for his person.
