A Christmas Tree and a Wedding Page #3

"A Christmas Tree and a Wedding" is a short story by Fyodor Dostoevsky that explores themes of social class, human relationships, and moral complexities. The narrative unfolds during a Christmas gathering, where the narrator reflects on a wealthy man's lavish lifestyle and his interactions with a group of guests, particularly a beautiful but naive young girl. The story contrasts the superficiality of societal celebrations with deeper emotional truths, ultimately highlighting the tension between love, greed, and the impact of societal expectations on personal relationships. Through its poignant observations, Dostoevsky invites readers to consider the meaning of genuine connection in a materialistic world.

• Novel

								

Yulian Mastakovitch turned away at once, and in a voice calculated to
reach my ear, asked who was that strange young man? They whispered
together and walked out of the room. I saw Yulian Mastakovitch
afterwards shaking his head incredulously as our host talked to him.

After laughing to my heart's content I returned to the drawing-room.
There the great man, surrounded by fathers and mothers of families,
including the host and hostess, was saying something very warmly to a
lady to whom he had just been introduced. The lady was holding by the
hand the little girl with whom Yulian Mastakovitch had had the scene in
the parlour a little while before. Now he was launching into praises and
raptures over the beauty, the talents, the grace and the charming
manners of the charming child. He was unmistakably making up to the
mamma. The mother listened to him almost with tears of delight. The
father's lips were smiling. Our host was delighted at the general
satisfaction. All the guests, in fact, were sympathetically gratified;
even the children's games were checked that they might not hinder the
conversation: the whole atmosphere was saturated with reverence. I heard
afterwards the mamma of the interesting child, deeply touched, beg
Yulian Mastakovitch, in carefully chosen phrases, to do her the special
honour of bestowing upon them the precious gift of his acquaintance, and
heard with what unaffected delight Yulian Mastakovitch accepted the
invitation, and how afterwards the guests, dispersing in different
directions, moving away with the greatest propriety, poured out to one
another the most touchingly flattering comments upon the contractor, his
wife, his little girl, and, above all, upon Yulian Mastakovitch.

"Is that gentleman married?" I asked, almost aloud, of one of my
acquaintances, who was standing nearest to Yulian Mastakovitch. Yulian
Mastakovitch flung a searching and vindictive glance at me.

"No!" answered my acquaintance, chagrined to the bottom of his heart by
the awkwardness of which I had intentionally been guilty....

       *     *     *     *     *

I passed lately by a certain church; I was struck by the crowd of people
in carriages. I heard people talking of the wedding. It was a cloudy
day, it was beginning to sleet. I made my way through the crowd at the
door and saw the bridegroom. He was a sleek, well-fed, round, paunchy
man, very gorgeously dressed up. He was running fussily about, giving
orders. At last the news passed through the crowd that the bride was
coming. I squeezed my way through the crowd and saw a marvellous beauty,
who could scarcely have reached her first season. But the beauty was
pale and melancholy. She looked preoccupied; I even fancied that her
eyes were red with recent weeping. The classic severity of every feature
of her face gave a certain dignity and seriousness to her beauty. But
through that sternness and dignity, through that melancholy, could be
seen the look of childish innocence; something indescribably naïve,
fluid, youthful, which seemed mutely begging for mercy.

People were saying that she was only just sixteen. Glancing attentively
at the bridegroom, I suddenly recognized him as Yulian Mastakovitch,
whom I had not seen for five years. I looked at her. My God! I began to
squeeze my way as quickly as I could out of the church. I heard people
saying in the crowd that the bride was an heiress, that she had a dowry
of five hundred thousand ... and a trousseau worth ever so much.

"It was a good stroke of business, though!" I thought as I made my way
into the street.
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