'My darling Dolores--the first and only love of my life!' exclaimed the young man passionately; 'how can he--how _dare_ he--act thus towards us? But that I love him, I think, I may soon come to hate him!' He rushed away in search of Dolores; but she and the Countess were from home. He was on duty at the Palace next day, and Dolores was to be at the ridotto; thus, ere they could meet, events were to transpire which were altogether beyond the conception of both. CHAPTER VIII. THE RIDOTTO. The 'ridotto,' the Italian word then fashionable for an entertainment of music and dancing, at the huge old red-brick villa of the Heer van Otterbeck, Minister of State, in the vicinity of the Hague, was one of the gayest affairs of the season. The Prince of Orange (whose son afterwards became King of the Netherlands) was not present, but all the rank, the wealth, and beauty of the Hague were represented; and among those present were many officers of the Scots Brigade, including the Earl of Drumlanrig, General Dundas, in after years the captor of the Cape of Good Hope; and there too was the Conservator of Scottish Privileges at Campvere, John Home, then the celebrated author of the nearly forgotten tragedy of 'Douglas.' A band of the Dutch Guards furnished music on the lawn, and there dancing was in progress in the bright sunshine of the summer afternoon; and, in the fashion of the time, many of the guests were arrayed in what they deemed the costume of Arcadian shepherds and shepherdesses. People danced early in the evenings of the eighteenth century, and were abed about the time their descendants now begin to dress for a ball. Ices were unknown; no wine was dispensed, but the liveried servants of the Heervan Otterbeck regaled his guests on coffee, green tea, orange tea, and many kinds of cakes and confectionery in the intervals of the dancing, in which Dolores (all innocent and unaware of the plots in progress against her peace, even her honour and liberty--one of them born of avarice, wounded vanity, and foiled desire) indulged joyously and with all her heart. For the information of the ladies of the present day we shall detail the dress worn by Dolores on that evening as described in the _Hague Gazette_, and they may imagine how charming she looked: 'Her body and train were silver tissue, with a broad silver fringe; her petticoat was white satin covered with the richest crape, embroidered with silver, fastened up with bunches of silver roses, tassels, and cords. Her pocket-holes were blonde, her stockings were blue, clocked with silver, and her hair was twisted and plaited in the most beautiful manner around a diamond comb.' Seated under a tree, flushed with a recent dance, she was alternately playing with her fan and silver pomander ball, with a crowd of admirers about her, and looking alike pure and bright, with 'a skin as though she had been dieted on milk and roses.'