"To my words, ye people, hearken: All your houses straight way darken! 'Tis ten o'clock, all fires put out! Let naught of evil lurk about. Praised be the Lord!" Then he went his way. And the moon shone down upon the peaceful streets of Nuremberg. IV Midsummer Day dawned. Long before the town was awake, while Sir Walter still slumbered in an inner room of the cottage, Hans Sachs sat in the great armchair by the open window. The morning sunshine fell upon his head as he bent over the thick and musty volume he held in his hands. But who shall say he was reading as he turned the time-worn leaves over and over? His mind wandered far afield,--to the early days of his beloved Nuremberg, to the trades, to himself, the humble cause of last night's brawl. And the thought of the two young lovers came to him. He would like so much to help them, if he could only find a way. So absorbed was he that he scarcely noticed the youth David who came to offer him the basket of goodies, which Magdalena had given him as a token of forgiveness. And so the moments passed. Hans Sachs resumed his reading, until at length the chamber door was opened and Sir Walter stood upon the threshold. Bidding his host good morning, he walked slowly toward him. "Ah, good morning, Sir Knight," replied Hans Sachs, forgetful of the great book, which slid to the floor as he arose. "I hope you rested well." "Thank you. The sleep that I had was restful," answered Sir Walter, in a dreamy and preoccupied tone. Then he exclaimed rapturously,-- "But I had a most beautiful dream!" "A dream?" Hans Sachs was all attention. "Tell it to me!" "I dare not. I fear it will fade away," said Sir Walter. "Nay. It is of such dreams that poetry is made,"--and the eyes of the cobbler gleamed with an inner radiance. "Poems are but dreams made real." Thus urged and encouraged, the young knight sang the story of his dream. And Hans Sachs was moved by the rare beauty of the poetry and music. Hastily procuring pen and ink, he bade Sir Walter sing it over again while he transcribed the words to paper. Then, as the song continued, the kind-hearted master added bits of advice in a low tone. He showed the young knight how he could keep the words and melody as beautiful as his dream, and still obey the rules of correct singing. Charging him not to forget the tune, Hans Sachs insisted that Sir Walter array himself in his richest garments and accompany him to the Song Festival. "For," concluded he, "something may happen. Who can tell?" And so the two men entered the inner room together.