She changes suitors like gloves, and before her charm, even the toughest hearts become defenseless. Some will call her a loose woman, while others see in her a muse, a wife, a forsaken soul in need of protection. But she has her accounts with fate—and with each of her wayward admirers. Servant Fabrizio, Cavalier Ripafratta, Count Albafiorita—and even Marquis Forlipopoli himself!—they are all mere pawns in Her game…

This is how many remember Mirandolina, the heroine of Carlo Goldoni’s comedy “The Mistress of the Inn”: strong, proud, calculating. In Ksenia Drachukova’s “The Mistress of the Hotel,” this image has been completely reimagined, endowed with new facets: for the first time, the audience can peek into the soul of the seductress and understand that cunning is not what drives her. After her father’s death, Mirandolina was forced to grow up early to take control of the hotel. She has to manage affairs while holding back the ardor of her admirers—under such circumstances, cunning becomes simply necessary. But in Mirandolina’s soul, there remains a little girl who was deprived of plush toys, late-night chats with friends, and naive childhood illusions too early.