Tomlin looked at himself in the mirror and thought, “Ridiculous.” That’s how he saw himself most of the time, a pretence of a noble, living up to expectations. Tonight would be even more of a farce. At least, he told himself, all in attendance would be masked and mysterious.
He tugged at his cumberbund, straightened his starched collar and tried to shift his pants to a more comfortable arrangement. The outfit was gaudy, de rigeur for the evening. His shoes clicked and scraped on the floor as he tested a few dance steps. With a sigh he pulled his over his face and tried to see through the eye holes.
The ball was about mystery and magic. A wry grin spread across the bottom half of his face that showed under the mask, the lion’s face with a short feathery mane. If the mode of the festivities was mystery, then mysterious he shall be. With quickened step he was on his way.
And all through the dance he scanned the crowd. He judged the costumes. He saw a woman, a girl he would cast his spell upon.