for his part in the fight.

Beckmesser, battered half to pieces, limped off, while the crowd,
dripping wet and with ardour cooled, slunk out. When all was perfectly
quiet and safe, and not a sound stirring, on came the Night Warder. It
was comical to see the way he looked all about the deserted place, as
if he had been taking a little nap, while all Nuremberg had been
fighting like wild-cats, and he quavered out in a shaky voice:

Hear, all folks, the Warder's ditty,
Eleven strikes in our city,
Defend yourselves from spectre and sprite,
That no evil imp your soul affright.

He finished with a long-drawn cry:

Praise ye God, the Lord,

and all was still.

ACT III

The morning of the song festival dawned clear and fine. Early in the
morning, Hans Sachs seated himself in his shop, beside his sunny
window, his work on the bench before him, but he let it go unheeded as
he fell to reading. David found his master thus employed when he
stole into the shop, after peeping to make sure that Hans would pay no
attention to him. David was not at all sure of the reception his
master would give him after the riot in which he had taken a hand the
night before. As Hans did not look up, David set the basket he carried
upon the table, and began to take out the things in it. First there
were flowers and bright-coloured ribbons, and at the very bottom a
cake and a sausage. He was just beginning to eat the sausage when Hans
Sachs turned a page of his book noisily. David, knowing his guilty
part in the fight, looked warily at his master.

"Master, I have taken the shoes to Beckmesser and----" Sachs looked at
him abstractedly.

"Do not disturb our guest, Sir Walther," he said, seeming to forget
David's misbehaviour. "Eat thy cakes and be happy--only do not wake
our guest."

Soon David went out while Sachs still sat thinking of the situation
and half decided to take a part in the contest himself--since it were
a shame to have Beckmesser win Eva. While he was thus lost in
contemplation, Walther woke and came from his room.

"Ah, dear Hans--I have had a glorious dream," he cried. "It is so
splendid that I hardly dare think of it."

"Can it be thou hast dreamed a song?" Sachs asked breathlessly.

"Even if I had, what help would it bring me, friend Sachs, since the
Mastersingers will not treat me fairly?"

"Stay, stay, Walther, not so fast! I want to say of yesterday's
experience: the Mastersingers are