Free The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro Page A

descent. Then, as I passed him, he would say: ‘Oh, Stevens, there was something I meant to say to you.’ And with that, he would wander backinto his study, to all appearances still thoroughly engrossed in the volume held open in his hands. It was invariably embarrassment at what he was about to impart which made Lord Darlington adopt such an approach, and even once the study door was closed behind us, he would often stand by the window and make a show of consulting the encyclopedia throughout our conversation.
    What I am now describing, incidentally, is one of many instances I could relate to you to underline Lord Darlington’s essentially shy and modest nature. A great deal of nonsense has been spoken and written in recent years concerning his lordship and the prominent role he came to play in great affairs, and some utterly ignorant reports have had it that he was motivated by egotism or else arrogance. Let me say here that nothing could be further from the truth. It was completely contrary to Lord Darlington’s natural tendencies to take such public stances as he came to do and I can say with conviction that his lordship was persuaded to overcome his more retiring side only through a deep sense of moral duty. Whatever may be said about his lordship these days – and the great majority of it is, as I say, utter nonsense – I can declare that he was a truly good man at heart, a gentleman through and through, and one I am today proud to have given my best years of service to.
    On the particular afternoon to which I am referring, his lordship would still have been in his mid-fifties; but as I recall, his hair had greyed entirely and his tall slender figure already bore signs of the stoop that was to become so pronounced in his last years. He barely glanced up from his volume as he asked:
    ‘Your father feeling better now, Stevens?’
    ‘I’m glad to say he has made a full recovery, sir.’
    ‘Jolly pleased to hear that. Jolly pleased.’
    ‘Thank you, sir.’
    ‘Look here, Stevens, have there been any – well –
signs
at all? I mean signs to tell us your father may be wishing hisburden lightened somewhat? Apart from this business of him falling, I mean.’
    ‘As I say, sir, my father appears to have made a full recovery and I believe he is still a person of considerable dependability. It is true one or two errors have been noticeable recently in the discharging of his duties, but these are in every case very trivial in nature.’
    ‘But none of us wish to see anything of that sort happen ever again, do we? I mean, your father collapsing and all that.’
    ‘Indeed not, sir.’
    ‘And of course, if it can happen out on the lawn, it could happen anywhere. And at any time.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘It could happen, say, during dinner while your father was waiting at table.’
    ‘It is possible, sir.’
    ‘Look here, Stevens, the first of the delegates will be arriving here in less than a fortnight.’
    ‘We are well prepared, sir.’
    ‘What happens within this house after that may have considerable repercussions.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘I mean
considerable
repercussions. On the whole course Europe is taking. In view of the persons who will be present, I do not think I exaggerate.’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘Hardly the time for taking on avoidable hazards.’
    ‘Indeed not, sir.’
    ‘Look here, Stevens, there’s no question of your father leaving us. You’re simply being asked to reconsider his duties.’ And it was then, I believe, that his lordship said as he looked down again into his volume and awkwardly fingered an entry: These errors may be trivial in themselves, Stevens, but you must yourself realize their larger significance. Your father’s days of dependability are nowpassing. He must not be asked to perform tasks in any area where an error might jeopardize the success of our forthcoming conference.’
    ‘Indeed not, sir. I fully understand.’
    ‘Good. I’ll leave you to think about it then,