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Authors: Kazuo Ishiguro

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BOOK: The Remains of the Day
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‘Is that so, sir?’

‘Stevens, do you know what is happening at this very moment as we sit here talking? What’s happening just several yards from us? Over in that room – and I don’t need you to confirm it – there is gathered at this moment the British Prime Minister, the Foreign Secretary and the German Ambassador. His lordship has worked wonders to bring this meeting about, and he believes – faithfully believes – he’s doing something good and honourable. Do you know why his lordship has brought these gentlemen here tonight? Do you know, Stevens, what is going on here?’

‘I’m afraid not, sir.’

‘You’re afraid not. Tell me, Stevens, don’t you care at all? Aren’t you curious? Good God, man, something very crucial is going on in this house. Aren’t you at all curious?’

‘It is not my place to be curious about such matters, sir.’

‘But you care about his lordship. You care deeply, you just told me that. If you care about his lordship, shouldn’t you be concerned? At least a little curious? The British Prime Minister and the German Ambassador are brought together by your employer for secret talks in the night, and you’re not even curious?’

‘I would not say I am not curious, sir. However, it is not my position to display curiosity about such matters.’

‘It’s not your position? Ah, I suppose you believe that to be loyalty. Do you? Do you think that’s being loyal? To his lordship? Or to the Crown, come to that?’

‘I’m sorry, sir, I fail to see what it is you are proposing.’

Mr Cardinal sighed again and shook his head. ‘I’m not proposing anything, Stevens. Quite frankly, I don’t know what’s to be done. But you might at least be curious.’

He was silent for a moment, during which time he seemed to be gazing emptily at the area of carpet around my feet.

‘Sure you won’t join me in a drink, Stevens?’ he said eventually. ‘No, thank you, sir.’

‘I’ll tell you this, Stevens. His lordship is being made a fool of. I’ve done a lot of investigating, I know the situation in Germany now as well as anyone in this country, and I tell you, his lordship is being made a fool of.’

I gave no reply, and Mr Cardinal went on gazing emptily at the floor. After a while, he continued:

‘His lordship is a dear, dear man. But the fact is, he is out of his depth. He is being manoeuvred. The Nazis are manoeuvring him like a pawn. Have you noticed this,
Stevens? Have you noticed this is what has been happening for the last three or four years at least?’

‘I’m sorry, sir, I have failed to notice any such development.’

‘Haven’t you even had a suspicion? The smallest suspicion that Herr Hitler, through our dear friend Herr Ribbentrop, has been manoeuvring his lordship like a pawn, just as easily as he manoeuvres any of his other pawns back in Berlin?’

‘I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid I have not noticed any such development.’

‘But I suppose you wouldn’t, Stevens, because you’re not curious. You just let all this go on before you and you never think to look at it for what it is.’

Mr Cardinal adjusted his position in the armchair so that he was a little more upright, and for a moment he seemed to be contemplating his unfinished work on the desk near by. Then he said:

‘His lordship is a gentleman. That’s what’s at the root of it. He’s a gentleman, and he fought a war with the Germans, and it’s his instinct to offer generosity and friendship to a defeated foe. It’s his instinct. Because he’s a gentleman, a true old English gentleman. And you must have seen it, Stevens. How could you not have seen it? The way they’ve used it, manipulated it, turned something fine and noble into something else – something they can use for their own foul ends? You must have seen it, Stevens.’

Mr Cardinal was once again staring at the floor. He remained silent for a few moments, then he said:

‘I remember coming here years ago, and there was this American chap here. We were having a big conference, my father was involved in organizing it. I remember this American chap, even drunker than I am now, he got up at the dinner table in front of the whole company. And he pointed at his lordship and called him an amateur. Called
him a bungling amateur and said he was out of his depth. Well, I have to say, Stevens, that American chap was quite right. It’s a fact of life. Today’s world is too foul a place for fine and noble instincts. You’ve seen it yourself, haven’t you, Stevens? The way they’ve manipulated something fine and noble. You’ve seen it yourself, haven’t you?’

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t say I have.’

‘You can’t say you have. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m going to do something about it. If Father were alive, he would do something to stop it.’

Mr Cardinal fell silent again and for a moment – perhaps it was to do with his having evoked memories of his late father – he looked extremely melancholy. ‘Are you content, Stevens,’ he said finally, ‘to watch his lordship go over the precipice just like that?’

‘I’m sorry, sir, I don’t fully understand what it is you’re referring to.’

‘You don’t understand, Stevens. Well, we’re friends and so I’ll put it to you frankly. Over the last few years, his lordship has probably been the single most useful pawn Herr Hitler has had in this country for his propaganda tricks. All the better because he’s sincere and honourable and doesn’t recognize the true nature of what he’s doing. During the last three years alone, his lordship has been crucially instrumental in establishing links between Berlin and over sixty of the most influential citizens of this country. It’s worked beautifully for them. Herr Ribbentrop’s been able virtually to bypass our foreign office altogether. And as if their wretched Rally and their wretched Olympic Games weren’t enough, do you know what they’ve got his lordship working on now? Do you have any idea what is being discussed now?’

‘I’m afraid not, sir.’

‘His lordship has been trying to persuade the Prime Minister himself to accept an invitation to visit Herr Hitler. He really believes there’s a terrible misunderstanding on
the Prime Minister’s part concerning the present German regime.’

‘I cannot see what there is to object to in that, sir. His lordship has always striven to aid better understanding between nations.’

‘And that’s not all, Stevens. At this very moment, unless I am very much mistaken, at this very moment, his lordship is discussing the idea of His Majesty himself visiting Herr Hitler. It’s hardly a secret our new king has always been an enthusiast for the Nazis. Well, apparently he’s now keen to accept Herr Hitler’s invitation. At this very moment, Stevens, his lordship is doing what he can to remove Foreign Office objections to this appalling idea.’

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I cannot see that his lordship is doing anything other than that which is highest and noblest. He is doing what he can, after all, to ensure that peace will continue to prevail in Europe.’

‘Tell me, Stevens, aren’t you struck by even the remote possibility that I am correct? Are you not, at least,
curious
about what I am saying?’

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I have to say that I have every trust in his lordship’s good judgement.’

‘No one with good judgement could persist in believing anything Herr Hitler says after the Rhineland, Stevens. His lordship is out of his depth. Oh dear, now I’ve really offended you.’

‘Not at all, sir,’ I said, for I had risen on hearing the bell from the drawing room. ‘I appear to be required by the gentlemen. Please excuse me.’

In the drawing room, the air was thick with tobacco smoke. Indeed, the distinguished gentlemen continued to smoke their cigars, solemn expressions on their faces, not uttering a word, while his lordship instructed me to bring up a certain exceptionally fine bottle of port from the cellar.

At such a time of night, one’s footsteps descending the back staircase are bound to be conspicuous and no doubt
they were responsible for arousing Miss Kenton. For as I was making my way along the darkness of the corridor, the door to her parlour opened and she appeared at the threshold, illuminated by the light from within.

‘I am surprised to find you still down here. Miss Kenton,’ I said as I approached.

‘Mr Stevens, I was very foolish earlier on.’

‘Excuse me. Miss Kenton, but I have no time to talk just now.’

‘Mr Stevens, you mustn’t take anything I said earlier to heart. I was simply being foolish.’

‘I have not taken anything you have said to heart, Miss Kenton. In fact, I cannot recall what it is you might be referring to. Events of great importance are unfolding upstairs and I can hardly stop to exchange pleasantries with you. I would suggest you retire for the night.’

With that I hurried on, and it was not until I had all but reached the kitchen doors that the darkness falling again in the corridor told me Miss Kenton had closed her parlour door.

It did not take me long to locate the bottle in question down in the cellar and to make the necessary preparations for its serving. It was, then, only a few minutes after my short encounter with Miss Kenton that I found myself walking down the corridor again on my return journey, this time bearing a tray. As I approached Miss Kenton’s door, I saw from the light seeping around its edges that she was still within. And that was the moment, I am now sure, that has remained so persistently lodged in my memory – that moment as I paused in the dimness of the corridor, the tray in my hands, an ever-growing conviction mounting within me that just a few yards away, on the other side of that door, Miss Kenton was at that moment crying. As I recall, there was no real evidence to account for this conviction – I had certainly not heard any sounds of crying – and yet I remember being quite certain that were I to knock and
enter, I would discover her in tears. I do not know how long I remained standing there; at the time it seemed a significant period, but in reality, I suspect, it was only a matter of a few seconds. For, of course, I was required to hurry upstairs to serve some of the most distinguished gentlemen of the land and I cannot imagine I would have delayed unduly.

When I returned to the drawing room, I saw that the gentlemen were still in a rather serious mood. Beyond this, however, I had little chance to gain any impression of the atmosphere, for no sooner had I entered than his lordship was taking the tray from me, saying: ‘Thank you, Stevens, I’ll see to it. That’ll be all.’

Crossing the hall again, I took up my usual position beneath the arch, and for the next hour or so, until, that is, the gentlemen finally departed, no event occurred which obliged me to move from my spot. Nevertheless, that hour I spent standing there has stayed very vividly in my mind throughout the years. At first, my mood was – I do not mind admitting it – somewhat downcast. But then as I continued to stand there, a curious thing began to take place; that is to say, a deep feeling of triumph started to well up within me. I cannot remember to what extent I analysed this feeling at the time, but today, looking back on it, it does not seem so difficult to account for. I had, after all, just come through an extremely trying evening, throughout which I had managed to preserve a ‘dignity in keeping with my position’ – and had done so, moreover, in a manner even my father might have been proud of. And there across the hall, behind the very doors upon which my gaze was then resting, within the very room where I had just executed my duties, the most powerful gentlemen of Europe were conferring over the fate of our continent. Who would doubt at that moment that I had indeed come as close to the great hub of things as any butler could wish? I would suppose, then, that as I stood there pondering the
events of the evening – those that had unfolded and those still in the process of doing so – they appeared to me a sort of summary of all that I had come to achieve thus far in my life. I can see few other explanations for that sense of triumph I came to be uplifted by that night.

DAY SIX · EVENING
Weymouth

This seaside town is a place I have thought of coming to for many years. I have heard various people talk of having spent a pleasant holiday here, and Mrs Symons too, in
The Wonder of England
, calls it a ‘town that can keep the visitor fully entertained for many days on end’. In fact, she makes special mention of this pier, upon which I have been promenading for the past half-hour, recommending particularly that it be visited in the evening when it becomes lit up with bulbs of various colours. A moment ago, I learnt from an official that the lights would be switched on ‘fairly soon’, and so I have decided to sit down here on this bench and await the event. I have a good view from here of the sun setting over the sea, and though there is still plenty of daylight left – it has been a splendid day – I can see, here and there, lights starting to come on all along the shore. Meanwhile, the pier remains busy with people; behind me, the drumming of numerous footsteps upon these boards continues without interruption.

I arrived in this town yesterday afternoon, and have decided to remain a second night here so as to allow myself this whole day to spend in a leisurely manner. And I must say, it has been something of a relief not to be motoring; for enjoyable though the activity can be, one can also get a little weary of it after a while. In any case, I can well afford the time to remain this further day here; an early start tomorrow will ensure that I am back at Darlington Hall by tea-time.

It is now fully two days since my meeting with Miss Kenton in the tea lounge of the Rose Garden Hotel in Little
Compton. For indeed, that was where we met, Miss Kenton surprising me by coming to the hotel. I had been whiling away some time after finishing my lunch – I was, I believe, simply staring at the rain from the window by my table – when a member of the hotel staff had come to inform me that a lady was wishing to see me at the reception. I rose and went out into the lobby, where I could see no one I recognized. But then the receptionist had said from behind her counter: ‘The lady’s in the tea lounge, sir.’

Going in through the door indicated, I discovered a room filled with ill-matching armchairs and occasional tables. There was no one else present other than Miss Kenton, who rose as I entered, smiled and held out her hand to me.

BOOK: The Remains of the Day
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