Остаток дня / The Remains of the Day

‘Butler, have you seen to my arrangements?’

‘I am very sorry, sir, but assistance is not immediately available at this precise moment.’

‘What do you mean, butler? You’ve run out of basic medical supplies?’

‘As it happens, sir, a doctor is on his way.’

‘Ah, very good! You called a doctor.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good, good.’

M. Dupont resumed his conversation and I continued my way around the room for some moments. At one point, the German countess emerged from the midst of the gentlemen and before I had had a chance to serve her, began helping herself to some port from my tray.

‘You will compliment the cook for me, Stevens,’ she said.

‘Of course, madam. Thank you, madam.’

‘And you and your staff did well also.’

‘Thank you most kindly, madam.’

‘At one point during dinner, Stevens, I would have sworn you were at least three people,’ she said and laughed.

I laughed quickly and said:

‘I’m delighted to be of service, madam.’

A moment later, I spotted the young Mr Cardinal not far away, still standing on his own, and it struck me the young gentleman might be feeling somewhat overawed in the present company. His glass, in any case, was empty and so I started towards him. He seemed greatly cheered at the prospect of my arrival and held out his glass.

‘I think it’s admirable that you’re a nature-lover, Stevens,’ he said, as I served him. ‘And I dare say it’s a great advantage to Lord Darlington to have someone to keep an expert eye on the activities of the gardener.’

‘I’m sorry, sir?’

‘Nature, Stevens. We were talking the other day about the wonders of the natural world. And I quite agree with you, we are all much too complacent about the great wonders that surround us.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I mean, all this we’ve been talking about. Treaties and boundaries and reparations and occupations. But Mother Nature just carries on her own sweet way. Funny to think of it like that, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, indeed it is, sir.’

‘I wonder if it wouldn’t have been better if the Almighty had created us all as – well – as sort of plants. You know, firmly embedded in the soil. Then none of this rot about wars and boundaries would have come up in the first place.’

The young gentleman seemed to find this an amusing thought. He gave a laugh, then on further thought laughed some more. I joined him in his laughter. Then he nudged me and said:

‘Can you imagine it, Stevens?’ and laughed again.

‘Yes, sir,’ I said, laughing also, ‘it would have been a most curious alternative.’

‘But we could still have chaps like you taking messages back and forth, bringing tea, that sort of thing. Otherwise, how would we ever get anything done? Can you imagine it, Stevens? All of us rooted in the soil? Just imagine it!’

Just then a footman emerged behind me.

‘Miss Kenton is wishing to have a word with you, sir,’ he said.

I excused myself from Mr Cardinal and moved towards the doors.

I noticed M. Dupont apparently guarding them and as I approached, he said:

‘Butler, is the doctor here?’

‘I am just going to find out, sir. I won’t be a moment.’

‘I am in some pain.’

‘I’m very sorry, sir. The doctor should not be long now.’

On this occasion, M. Dupont followed me out of the door. Miss Kenton was once more standing out in the hall.

‘Mr Stevens,’ she said, ‘Dr Meredith has arrived and gone upstairs.’

She had spoken in a low voice, but M. Dupont behind me exclaimed immediately:

‘Ah, good!’

I turned to him and said:

‘If you will perhaps follow me, sir.’

I led him into the billiard room where I stoked the fire while he sat down in one of the leather chairs and began to remove his shoes.

‘I’m sorry it is rather cold in here, sir. The doctor will not be long now.’

‘Thank you, butler. You’ve done well.’

Miss Kenton was still waiting for me in the hallway and we ascended through the house in silence. Up in my father’s room, Dr Meredith was making some notes and Mrs Mortimer weeping bitterly. She was still wearing her apron which, evidently, she had been using to wipe away her tears; as a result there were grease marks all over her face, giving her the appearance of a participant in a minstrel show. I had expected the room to smell of death, but on account of Mrs Mortimer – or else her apron – the room was dominated by the smell of roasting.

Dr Meredith rose and said:

‘My condolences, Stevens. He suffered a severe stroke. If it’s any comfort to you, he wouldn’t have suffered much pain. There was nothing in the world you could have done to save him.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘I’ll be on my way now. You’ll see to arrangements?’

‘Yes, sir. However, if I may, there is a most distinguished gentleman downstairs in need of your attention.’