"Ho, ho! Then you get nothing out of my basket," she answered, walking off. Again the boys mocked him, and he grew very angry, telling them to be off about their business. The quarrel grew so loud that finally Sachs, coming home unexpectedly, burst into the midst of them and scattered them. "What is all this?" he cried. "The rascals are plaguing me, master," David growled. "Well, get thee within and light the lamp; lock up and bring the lamp here to me; after that, put the shoes on the lasts and go"; and as David went into the workshop to obey, Sachs followed. At that moment, Eva and her father passed along the path, and seeing the light in Sachs's house, Pogner peeped through the chink of the door. "If Sachs is there I shall stop in and speak with him," he said to Eva. David just then came from the house with a lamp which he placed upon the work-bench, and seating himself began work upon a pair of shoes. "To-morrow will be a fine day for the festival," Pogner said to his daughter, as they seated themselves upon a stone bench, on their own side of the path. "But, father, must I certainly marry the best singer?" Eva asked anxiously. "Not unless he pleases thee; but in case he does not, Eva, I have decided that thou shalt marry no other." He was interrupted by Magdalene who came to bid them to supper. Eva lingered behind to get a private word with her. "What about the knight? Did he succeed?" she asked so anxiously that it broke Magdalene's heart to tell her the truth. "David said not--but he would not tell what had happened." "Maybe I can learn from Hans Sachs; he loves me very much, and may feel some distress over my trouble. I shall ask him." Just then Sachs came to the door of his house. "Come, boy," he said to David, "put up thy work for the night, and get thee to bed; to-morrow will be a busy day. Put my stool and table outside the door that I may finish a pair of shoes, and then get thee to bed." David gathered up his tools, and after arranging Sachs's work bade him good night. Sachs sat down, with his hands behind his head, and instead of going at once to work, began to think upon the day's happenings--and other things, maybe. He leaned his arms upon the lower half of the door and sometimes spoke his thoughts aloud: "Truly the young knight is a poet," he mused. Hans himself was a true poet, tender and loving, and he could think of nothing but Eva's good. Becoming nervous and apprehensive while thinking of her he began to hammer at a shoe, but again he ceased to work and tried to think. "I still hear that strain of the young knight's" and he tried to recall some part of the song. While he mused thus alone, Eva stole shyly over to the shop. It had now become quite dark and the neighbours were going to bed. "Good evening, Master Sachs! You are still at work?" she asked softly. Hans started.