, Beckmesser departs as
Eva enters in bridal attire. She is of course devoured by
curiosity to know what has become of her lover, but, as excuse
for her presence, she petulantly complains that her shoe pinches.
Kneeling in front of her, Sachs investigates the matter, greatly
puzzled at first by her confused and contradictory statements
and by her senseless replies to his questions. He is turning
his back to the inner door, through which Walther has also
entered the shop, but, soon becoming aware of the cause of
her perturbation, he deftly draws the shoe from her foot,
and going to his last pretends to be very busy over it, while
he is in reality listening intently to discover whether Eva's
presence will inspire Walther with the third and last verse
of his song. His expectations are not disappointed, for the
knight, approaching the maiden softly, declares his love in a
beautiful song.

As the last notes die away, the cobbler joyfully exclaims that
Walther has composed a Master Song, calls Eva and David (who has
just entered) as witnesses that he composed it, foretells that,
if Walther will only yield to his guidance he will yet enable
him to win the prize, and, patting Eva in a truly paternal
fashion, he bids her be happy, for she will yet be able to
marry the man she loves. David, who has been made journeyman
so that he can bear witness for Walther, greets the happy
Magdalena with the tidings that they no longer need delay,
but can marry immediately.

After the four happy young people and Hans Sachs have given
vent to their rapture in a beautiful quintette, they adjourn
to the meadow outside of the town, where the musical contest is
to take place. The peasants and apprentices are merrily dancing
on the green, and cease their mirthful gyrations only when the
Master Singers appear. Hans Sachs addresses the crowd, reads
the conditions of the test, proclaims what the prize shall be,
and concludes by inviting Beckmesser to come forth and begin his
song. The young people assembled hail this elderly candidate
with veiled scorn, and Beckmesser, painfully clambering to
the eminence where the candidates are requested to stand,
hesitatingly begins his lay. The words, with which he has had
no time to become familiar, are entirely unadapted to his tune,
so he draws them out, clips them, loses the thread of the verses,
and fails in every sense.

In his chagrin at having made himself ridiculous, and in
anger because his collea