"Good night," answered Hans Sachs, as he sat down by the bench and took up his tools. But he did not work. The silvery moonlight cast a glamor over the town. It softened the outlines of all that he looked upon and made them vague, uncertain, beautiful. The evening breeze wafted down the sweet scent of the elder blossoms, and a delicious languor overcame him. The soul of the poet arose in the body of the cobbler, and, as if under a spell, he sat motionless, oblivious to shoes, lasts, tools, everything. The Song of Spring that the young knight had sung that afternoon began to haunt him. Faintly, elusively, it came to his mind, like the distant echo of a melody heard in a dream. Musing upon Sir Walter, who, like the birds in the woodland, had sung the song his heart had told him to sing, he did not see Eva trip lightly from her father's house. She paused before him. Hans Sachs looked up. The sweet girl, swaying back and forth like a bird on a bough, looked more like a happy thought than a physical reality. Eva broke the silence shyly. "Good evening, Master," she said. "Still working?" Instantly Hans Sachs' face wore a genial smile of welcome. "Ah, little Eva," he answered, "you have come to speak about those new shoes for to-morrow, I'll be bound." Now, as you no doubt have already guessed, artful Miss Eva had come for no such purpose at all. To tell the truth, she had feared to ask her father aught concerning the trial meeting of the Master Singers that afternoon. For she knew it would be far easier to wheedle the story from her old friend Hans Sachs. With a fine affectation of unconcern she began her questioning. But little did she know Hans Sachs. He, as it happened, was quite clever enough to divine her plan. He suspected that she must have some hidden reason for this sudden interest in the trial meeting. At least, he thought, it would do no harm to find out. So he spoke harshly of Sir Walter, and pretended that he had sung abominably at the trial meeting. Indeed, the Masters were quite right in rejecting him! And all the time he watched Eva's expression and laughed, oh, how he laughed, in his sleeve! Eva flushed crimson. She flew into a temper. "A nice lot of Masters, indeed!" She flung the words at Hans Sachs. "Little do they know of fine singing, or you either, for that matter." Then she rushed angrily away, and crossed the street to her own home. Hans Sachs smiled tenderly. He nodded his head wisely as he gazed after her. "Ah!" he said to himself, "that's just what I thought! That's just what I thought!" And still shaking his head, he gathered up his tools and entered the workshop. He closed the door behind him; that is, he nearly closed the door,--nearly, not entirely, which was most fortunate, as you shall see. Not long afterward Sir Walter von Stolzing came hastening down the street. His face was full of sorrow. All his hopes of winning Eva were gone. He would see her once more, and then bid her farewell forever.