OHANO. He's so different—so changed—oh, here he is—ssh!
[Nijo appears at the window, where he pauses for a moment. He is a tall, brunette man, scarcely thirty—a handsome, well-knit southern island type, wearing a flowing robe of flame, with a flaring collar of old-gold brocade. A peaked hat completes the costume. A curved sword, with a hilt thickly studded with large jewels and incased in gold, hangs at his belt. He seems worldly weary and sad as he advances into the room.
OHANO. Nijo!
NIJO. [Unimpassioned.] Ohano.
OHANO. [Eagerly.] You have come back!
NIJO. Yes—and the season of the heat has been gracious to your health, I hope?
OHANO. Yes—and yours, Nijo?
NIJO. The same.
OHANO. Oh, I am glad—glad as tree-blossoms for the kiss of spring. And Zama here shares my welcome, don't you?
NIJO. [Recognizing Zama.] Ah, Zama.