se brilliancy. The lovers find themselves standing in
a bright illumination. Eva pulls Walther quickly back into the
dark. "Woe's me, the shoe-maker! If he were to see us!... Hide! Do
not go near that man!"--"What other road can we take?"--"The street
there--but it is a winding one, I am not well acquainted with it,
and, besides, we should run into the night-watchman."--"Well, then,
through the lane!"--"The shoe-maker must first leave the window!"--"I
will force him to leave it!" says Walther, fiercely.--"He must
not see you. He knows you."--"The shoe-maker?..."--"Yes, it is
Sachs."--"Hans Sachs, my friend?"--"Do not believe it! He had nothing
but evil to say of you!"--"What, Sachs? He, too?... I will put out
his lamp!" She catches again at his arm, and even at that moment
both are startled into immobility by the sound of a lute. Some one
approaches, testing as he comes the strings of a lute, if they be
in tune. The light has disappeared from the shoe-maker's window.
Walther is again for dashing down the lane toward the city-gate and
the horses. "But no! Can't you hear?"--his lady hangs back. "Some
one else has come and taken up his station there."--"I hear it
and see it. It is some street-musician. What is he doing so late
at night?"--"It is Beckmesser!"--"What, the Marker? The Marker
in my power? There is one whose loafing in the street shall not
trouble us long...." Again she catches in terror at his arm, so
ready ever to catch at the sword. "For the love of Heaven, listen!
Do you wish to waken my father? The man will sing his song and
then will go his way. Let us hide behind the shrubs yonder." She
draws her lover to the stone seat under the linden-tree.

Sachs at the sound of the lute has drawn in his light, become
superfluous, since the road is effectually blocked for the lovers by
the musical interloper. He overhears Eva's exclamation, "Beckmesser!"
and has an idea. Beckmesser shall be made of use to prevent the
lovers as long as possible from moving any farther from the safe
parental roof than that stone seat under the linden, where they
huddle close, whispering together, while keeping a watchful eye
on the actors of the comedy which follows. Sachs, as one might
know of him, loves a joke. He softly opens his door, places his
work-bench and lamp right in the doorway, and sets himself at his
work. When Beckmesser, after impatiently preluding to bring to
the window the figure he is expecting, clears his throat to