Walther, at last deciding that the time had come when he must rescue Eva, drew his sword and rushed forth. Hans, who had been watching behind his door, then ran out, pushed his way through the mob and caught Walther by the arm. At that moment--Poof! Bist! the women in the windows threw down buckets of water over all the people, and Beckmesser was half drowned in the streams. This added to the confusion, so that Hans grasped Walther, and Pogner his daughter; Sachs and Walther retired into Sachs's house and Eva was dragged within her own. As Sachs disappeared, he gave David a kick which sent him flying, to pay him for his part in the fight. Beckmesser, battered half to pieces, limped off, while the crowd, dripping wet and with ardour cooled, slunk out. When all was perfectly quiet and safe, and not a sound stirring, on came the Night Warder. It was comical to see the way he looked all about the deserted place, as if he had been taking a little nap, while all Nuremberg had been fighting like wild-cats, and he quavered out in a shaky voice: Hear, all folks, the Warder's ditty, Eleven strikes in our city, Defend yourselves from spectre and sprite, That no evil imp your soul affright. He finished with a long-drawn cry: Praise ye God, the Lord, and all was still. ACT III The morning of the song festival dawned clear and fine. Early in the morning, Hans Sachs seated himself in his shop, beside his sunny window, his work on the bench before him, but he let it go unheeded as he fell to reading. David found his master thus employed when he stole into the shop, after peeping to make sure that Hans would pay no attention to him. David was not at all sure of the reception his master would give him after the riot in which he had taken a hand the night before. As Hans did not look up, David set the basket he carried upon the table, and began to take out the things in it. First there were flowers and bright-coloured ribbons, and at the very bottom a cake and a sausage. He was just beginning to eat the sausage when Hans Sachs turned a page of his book noisily. David, knowing his guilty part in the fight, looked warily at his master. "Master, I have taken the shoes to Beckmesser and----" Sachs looked at him abstractedly. "Do not disturb our guest, Sir Walther," he said, seeming to forget David's misbehaviour. "Eat thy cakes and be happy--only do not wake our guest." Soon David went out while Sachs still sat thinking of the situation and half decided to take a part in the contest himself--since it were a shame to have Beckmesser win Eva. While he was thus lost in contemplation, Walther woke and came from his room. "Ah, dear Hans--I have had a glorious dream," he cried. "It is so splendid that I hardly dare think of it." "Can it be thou hast dreamed a song?" Sachs asked breathlessly. "Even if I had, what help would it bring me, friend Sachs, since the Mastersingers will not treat me fairly?"