Avenues so wretched, snowbanks, bitter frost. Desperate little urchins with trays of cigarettes. Wandering dirty avenues, enjoying evil games - all of them are pickpockets, all are jolly thieves. That bunch takes Nikitskaya, this - Tverskaya Square. They stand, sombrely whistling, the livelong day out there. They dash to all the barrooms and, with some time to spare, they pore over Pinkerton out loud over a beer. Let the beer be bitter - beer or not, they're soused. All rave about New York, all dream of San Frantsisk... Then again, so wretchedly, they walk out in the frost - desperate little urchins with trays of cigarettes.