ith an immortal youth.... But words are
never so ineffectual as when they would translate music.

When Walther and Eva part, they are candidly lovers, for she has
joined her voice to his at the closing words of his profession, and
herself warmly professed: "My heart with its blessed ardour,--for
you, its love-consecrated kindness!" In a moment the women are
gone. Walther casts himself in a great high-backed carved seat
which apprentices have a moment before placed in the conspicuous
position it occupies, and is absorbed in the attempt to collect
himself, deal with his swarming emotions, order his wild thoughts,
scheme what to do. The excited blood in his veins sings the song
of his youth.

Apprentices in number, lively and mischievous imps, have entered and
are setting the place aright for the meeting of the master-singers,
placing seats for these on one side and forms for themselves on the
opposite side, arranging near the centre a platform and blackboard
enclosed by curtains. David stands studying that original who supposes
one can be made a master in an hour. The gentleman's rank and fine
feathers do not impress the youth, who feels himself rather, with
respect to the requirements of the hour, in a position to patronise.
Walther is startled to hear him suddenly shout: "Begin!" "What is
the matter?" he inquires, waking out of his dream. "Begin! That is
what the Marker calls out, and then you must sing. Don't you know
that?"--"Who is the Marker?"--"Don't you know? Have you never been
to a song-trial?"--"Never, where the judges were artisans."--"Are
you a poet?"--"Would that I were!"--"Are you a singer?"--"Would that
I knew!"--"But you have at least been a 'school-frequenter' and
a 'pupil?'"--"It all sounds foreign to my ear!"--"And you wish to
become a master, off-hand, like that?"--"What enormous difficulty
does the matter present?"--David groans: "Oh, Lene, Lene... oh,
Magdalene!"--"What a to-do you make! Come, tell me, in good faith,
what I must do!" David has now the chance he loves. Here is one
who knows nothing whatever of the things it is his pride to have
learned at least the names of, the things to a Nuremberger worth
knowing among all. The ignoramus shall be properly dazzled. David
strikes an attitude. "Myself," he informs Walther, "I am learning
the Art from the greatest master in Nuremberg, Hans Sachs. For a
full year I have received his instructions. Shoe-making and poetry
I learn simultaneously. When I