The hour cuts long into the night, but the lady's rooms show the tarnish of recent visitation. Whatever Vannozza's nightly occupations, they appear to steer towards the crowded and the discreet. Wrath is received with the dignity and flourish of any guest, attendants hastening to offer him a seat, a pleasantry of sweets, wine.

The lady herself makes a delayed appearance, dressed scantily in a threadbare night robe, parted from her ornaments. She prowls the room, air at once predatory and distant.

"Does my cousin know you are here? I feel... honour-bound to nearly alert him."