The Remains of the Day - By Kazuo Ishiguro Page 0,80
the table. To my embarrassment, everyone in the room, including Dr Carlisle, rose to their feet.
‘Thank you all very much,’ I said, smiling. ‘Mrs Taylor, I did enjoy a splendid supper. I wish you all a very good night.’
There came a chorus of, ‘Good night, sir,’ in reply. I had almost left the room when the doctor’s voice caused me to halt at the door.
‘I say, old chap,’ he said, and when I turned, I saw he had remained on his feet. ‘I have a visit to make in Stanbury first thing in the morning. I’d be happy to give you a lift up to your car. Save you the walk. And we can pick up a can of petrol from Ted Hardacre’s on the way.’
‘That is most kind,’ I said. ‘But I don’t wish to put you to any trouble.’
‘No trouble at all. Seven thirty all right for you?’
‘That would be most helpful indeed.’
‘Right then, seven thirty it is. Make sure your guest’s up and breakfasted for seven thirty, Mrs Taylor.’ Then turning back to me, he added: ‘So we can have our talk after all. Though Harry here won’t have the satisfaction of witnessing my humiliation.’
There was laughter, and another exchange of good nights before I was at last allowed to ascend to the sanctuary of this room.
*
I trust I need hardly underline the extent of the discomfort I suffered tonight on account of the unfortunate misunderstanding concerning my person. I can only say now that in all honesty I fail to see how I might reasonably have prevented the situation developing as it did; for by the stage I had become aware of what was occurring, things had gone so far I could not have enlightened these people without creating much embarrassment all round. In any case, regrettable as the whole business was, I do not see that any real harm has been done. I will, after all, take my leave of these people in the morning and presumably never encounter them again. There seems little point in dwelling on the matter.
However, the unfortunate misunderstanding aside, there are perhaps one or two other aspects to this evening’s events which warrant a few moments ‘thought – if only because otherwise they may come to niggle one throughout the coming days. For instance, there is the matter of Mr Harry Smith’s pronouncements on the nature of ‘dignity’. There is surely little in his statements that merits serious consideration. Of course, one has to allow that Mr Harry Smith was employing the word ‘dignity’ in a quite different sense altogether from my own understanding of it. Even so, even taken on their own terms, his statements were, surely, far too idealistic, far too theoretical, to deserve respect. Up to a point, no doubt, there is some truth in what he says: in a country such as ours, people may indeed have a certain duty to think about great affairs and form their opinions. But life being what it is, how can ordinary people truly be expected to have ‘strong opinions’ on all manner of things – as Mr Harry Smith rather fancifully claims the villagers here do? And not only are these expectations unrealistic, I rather doubt if they are even desirable. There is, after all, a real limit to how much ordinary people can learn and know, and to demand that each and every one of them contribute ‘strong opinions’ to the great debates of the nation cannot, surely, be wise. It is, in any case, absurd that anyone should presume to define a person’s ‘dignity’ in these terms.
As it happens, there is an instance that comes to mind which I believe illustrates rather well the real limits of whatever truth may be contained in Mr Harry Smith’s views. It is, as it happens, an instance from my own experience, an episode that took place before the war, around 1935.
As I recall, I was rung for late one night – it was past midnight – to the drawing room where his lordship had been entertaining three gentlemen since dinner. I had, naturally, been called to the drawing room several times already that night to replenish refreshments, and had observed on these occasions the gentlemen deep in conversation over weighty issues. When I entered the drawing room on this last occasion, however, all the gentlemen stopped talking and looked at me. Then his lordship said:
‘Step this way a moment, will you, Stevens? Mr Spencer here wishes a word with you.’