POTIPHAR SOON BECAME AWARE of Joseph’s extraordinary talents. The young man, assigned to table duty, was so handsome and graceful that one couldn’t help noticing him. The formal dinners afforded no opportunity for closer observation, so Potiphar summoned the slave to his office, a spacious, high-ceilinged room lined with gods made of alabaster, porphyry, and marble. As he interviewed Joseph, he was dazzled by his eloquence and the breadth of his understanding. He spent more than an hour with him, and he was sorry to see him leave. (By this time Joseph’s Egyptian was more than adequate for a conversation, though he would sometimes stumble over the conventional pieties that ornamented the language like the trills of a Baroque melody.)
To say that Potiphar took a liking to him would be an understatement. Potiphar’s heart was touched. He felt rejuvenated in the young man’s presence. He wanted, then longed, to see more of him. Soon he made him his personal attendant and gave him an Egyptian name: Meri-Amun, Beloved of Amun, the Hidden One, who by this time was identified with the sun god Ra.
The promotions to chief secretary and majordomo happened quickly and naturally; there was no grumbling among the other slaves at the barbarian’s heady rise, since he was universally esteemed; the master’s affection didn’t seem excessive nor his confidence misplaced. Under Joseph’s direction, daily business began to take care of itself with minimal stress on the whole staff. Everyday chores became a pleasure for them, and throughout the palace there was a perpetual hum of contentment in the air, as if the great goddess Bast were curled up on the rooftop, purring.