Over HANAVEISE OVERTURE:

DACH'OSMER COLVINAR (nineteen with fine, elven features) and his MANSERVANT (forties, part-goblin) inspect the attic inch by inch.

As the OVERTURE FADES, Colvinar throws his hands up.

The hotel's grand staircase, freshly polished and lined with rich carpeting, dominates the frame. An excessive collection of luggage lays piled neatly between the stairs and the hotel’s entrance.

The CHORUS OF TWENTY-FOUR BELL-HOPS (young men, ages 16-22, mixed features) sweeps into the room in a series of leaping quartets. They arrange themselves before the stairs in three rows of eight.

Begin GOSSIP OF THE BELL-HOPS I.

The bell-hops ascend the stairs one by one, each taking his own stair. They stand at attention, ready to serve.

MER HANAVAR (elven, twenty-one, holds himself as a much older man) crowns the staircase, hands kept behind his back.

As he descends a step, his posture remains impeccable.

Another step down.

Colvinar descends three steps in quick succession.

He feigns stumbling down five more steps, putting him right in the middle of the grand staircase.

Begin THE JUNIOR PROPRIETOR'S ADVICE.

Close on Hanavar as he leads the chorus. The ambient lights dim; spot the key light to encircle Hanavar.

As Hanavar descends further, he fixes the uniforms of his bell-hops: straightening a tie here, pushing back a hat there.

The bell-hops disperse and surround the pile of luggage. They reform their line up the stairs and pass each gilded case up as fire-men pass buckets of water.

At full height, she stands head and shoulders above him. With the determined set of her ears and her cold, impassive stare, she would have made a fine Zhasan.

Hesitantly, he bows. He brings her up the stairs.

We see Colvinar and Serasaran enter the pitch-dark room from afar, their forms silhouetted by the light from the hall. Serasaran approaches the kamera and inserts a coin into the gas meter.

The lights reveal an Osmerrem's dressing-room. The walls have been covered in tapestries, and every surface bears some bottle or trinket. The only inconsistency is the four-poster bed, which she has canopied with lace and silk.

Serasaran takes her place at the reading chair in the corner. She pats the plush foot stool across from her.

Colvinar approaches. He steps slowly, as though the carpet might reach up and swallow him whole at any minute.

At last, he sits. He leans in, curious.

The matron's posture softens. She too leans forward.

Begin THE WIDOW CONFESSES HER GRIEF.

The hand-mirror shakes in Temrin's unstable grip.

Hanavar does not take it from her. Instead, he stands behind her and looks over her shoulder.

Begin THE MIRROR HOLDS THY SORROW.

He places his hands on her slim shoulders.

Gradually, he brings one of his hands up to her cheek so that he might turn her head to face him.

He strokes a thumb over her cheek. Their faces grow closer—-until she pulls away.

We follow Temrin as she stands and approaches the window with somnambulant grace.

A breeze from the old window casts a chill upon Temrin. She tightens her shawl fiercely.

Back on Hanavar, still where we left him, an anxious hand at the base of his throat.

The Hanaveise signet ring still rests on the dresser. It is too gaudy to be an oath-band, but Hanavar takes it in hand.

He turns it in his fingers.