The Syrian and the Page open the play, appearing as two voyeurs. The former looks at the princess, and the latter looks at the moon, seeing therein a harbinger of death. As if sensing that the forbidden Salomé, like the moon, threatens death with both her look and as that which captures the Syrian's, the Page will continually warn him against looking at her too much. The play will then briefly elaborate the relationship of these two secondary voyeurs after the Syrian's suicide when the Page delivers a short eulogy. The Syrian's death is irrelevant to the drama of the figures that captured his gaze and "make" the play's spectacle, mourned only by the friend who warned him. The homoeroticism in their friendship is thinly veiled: the Syrian was the Page's "brother" and "nearer to [him] than a brother". For the Page, the Syrian's death comes not only from looking at Salomé, but from being looked at by the princess and moon. As he laments, he should have hidden the Syrian from the moon's deathly stare and removed him to a cavern out of sight. In his memories, the Page's "seduction" by the Syrian revolve around his voice—a "flute" that told him stories of his exotic land—and his gaze. Specifically this gaze was a narcissistic one: the Syrian loved to gaze at himself in the river, much to his friend's reproach. The Syrian's self-love seduces the Page: thus he sets himself to adorning him with agate, earrings, and perfume.