right off, quick!"--"As soon as I stand on it, it obliges
me to go; and as soon as I go, it obliges me to stand."--"Place
your foot here on the stool, I will remedy the evil at once. Now,
what is wrong with it?"--"You can see, it is too wide!"--"Child,
that is pure vanity. The shoe is snug."--"That is what I said,
and that is why it pinches my toes."--"Here, at the left?"--"No,
the right."--"At the instep?"--"No, the heel."--"What?" he asks
incredulously, "Something wrong too with the heel?"--"_Ach_, master,"
she exclaims, "do you know better than I where my shoe pinches
me?"--"I can only wonder," he replies, good-humouredly, "that your
shoe should be loose and yet pinch you everywhere!" The door of
the inner room opens at this moment, and Walther stands upon the
threshold in the rich gala costume of a young noble. Eva at sight of
him in his splendour utters a cry, and remains spell-bound, gazing.
He stops short in the doorway, spell-bound equally at sight of her
in her shimmering bride's-robe of white,--and from their eyes, fixed
unwaveringly upon each other, their hearts travel forth on luminous
beams to meet and mingle. Sachs's back is toward Walther; he has
not see him, but the tell-tale light on Eva's face, reflection
of a sun-burst, has reported to him of the apparition. He pretends
not to see. "Aha! Here is the trouble!" he speaks, as if nothing
were; "Now I see what the matter is! Child, you were right, the
seams are stiff. Just wait and I will set the matter aright. Stay
where you are, I will take the shoe and put it on the last for a
minute. After that it will give you no further trouble." He draws
the shoe tenderly from her childish foot, and leaves her standing,
statue-still, lost in her trance of contemplation, with her foot
on the stool, while he takes the shoe to his bench and pretends to
work at it. He cannot forbear,--while he plays his little comedy,
and those two angelically beautiful beings, saved and aided by him,
between whom he shares his big heart, stand hushed, drinking, in
oblivion of all, the heavenly nectar of each other's glances,--he
cannot forbear teasing the little lady a bit, giving her a little
lesson, taking a very mild vengeance on her for the faintly perfidious
wiles of yesterday. So he runs on, while making himself busy with
her shoe: "Forever to be cobbling! That is my fate. Night nor day,
no deliverance for me! Child, listen! I have thought over what
shall bring my shoe-making to