He gazed into my glowing face, his own quickly stilling to the placid Buddha calm. “Form is an empty mask, a nothingness,” he murmured. “The love of women, the craving for power, the greed for gold,—all alike are lures to decoy the soul out of the upward path to Nirvana.”
“You have seen your future bride, and can speak of Nirvana!” I exclaimed.
“She is as pure and beautiful as an angel. Yet I looked into her luminous eyes and did not see my soul.”
“I saw her soul, you cold-blooded Buddhist! Her spirit is as beautiful as her face!”
“No, Woroto,—it was your own soul you saw shining in her eyes,” he replied.
“What do you mean?” I demanded.
He shook his head gently. “Who may penetrate the mysteries of the future? You may have loved her in some previous incarnation. As for me, I have given my life to the Son of Heaven, the holy Mikado.”