NIJO. I—a light?
OHANO. Why not? I've always likened your feet unto the disks of two luminaries, lighting the way for all the world to follow. [Looks at gazing globe, which is now a ball of gold against the black sea and sky.] And now you tell me I was wrong. Perhaps the light upon the gazing globe itself is the only one to follow.
NIJO. I—a light? Why, Ohano, if I'm anything, I'm a gazing globe!
OHANO. What do you mean—you a gazing globe?
NIJO. That without I'm all fair, all wonderful—but within I'm empty as a gazing globe.
OHANO. [Scornfully.] But a gazing globe shows men the way to their heart's desire.
NIJO. It reflects to men what they see into it. So does glory.
OHANO. I can't believe that—now.
NIJO. Behold what it has done to me! Already as a child I gazed at that globe, longing to grasp the glory of which it was a symbol. It filled me with a red madness, surged with an unbearable music, giving me a riotous pain! Oh, it made me drunk for the wine of glory!
OHANO. I know! I know! Now you talk as the man I thought you were.