Khamdambek Atajanov

Muhim e'lon!

2022-01-10T07:00:53.796Z

Siz yosh tadqiqotchimisiz?

Zamonaviy va dolzarb mavzularda huquqiy tadqiqotlar o’tkazish ishtiyoqidamisiz?

Muhim va zaruriy maslahat izlayapsizmi?

Unda Sizni universitetimiz tomonidan tashkil etilayotgan

“DOLZARB HUQUQIY TADQIQOTLAR O’TKAZISH” (TSUL ADVANCED LEGAL RESEARCH BOOTCAMP) bo’yicha treningga taklif etamiz.

Trener: Xorijlik professor Dr. Ammar Younas

O’tkazilish vaqti: 2022-yil 20-21-yanvar, soat 11:00-13:00

O’tkazilish joyi: 3-bino 221-xona

Trening yosh tadqiqotchi o’qituvchilar, magistrantlar va barcha qiziquvchilar uchun ochiq.

Qo’shimcha ma’lumotlar uchun (1060, Biznes huquqi kafedrasi) ga murojaat qiling.

Trening quyidagi reja asosida olib boriladi:

SYLLABUS

1. Foundations of Research: Meaning, Objectives, Motivation, Utility. Concept of theory, empiricism, deductive and inductive theory. Characteristics of scientific method – Understanding the language of research – Concept, Construct, Definition, Variable. Research Process

2. Problem Identification & Formulation – Research Question – Investigation Question, Measurement Issues – Hypothesis – Qualities of a good Hypothesis –Null Hypothesis & Alternative Hypothesis. Hypothesis Testing – Logic & Importance, Logical Fallacies

3. Research Design: Concept and Importance in Research – Features of a good research design, Exploratory Research Design – concept, types and uses, Descriptive Research Designs – concept, types and uses. Experimental Design: Concept of Independent & Dependent variables.

4. Qualitative and Quantitative Research: Qualitative research – Quantitative research – Concept of measurement, causality, generalization, replication. Merging the two approaches.

5. Writing Public Policy documents: Identifying a public policy problem, Public Policy cycle, Monitoring and Feedback, Ranking and Rating Systems

6. Interpretation of Data and Paper Writing – Layout of a Research Paper, Journals in Legal Science, Impact factor of Journals, When and where to publish? Ethical issues related to publishing, Plagiarism and Self-Plagiarism. Patents and Intellectual Property Protection

7: Contemporary Issues in Legal Sciences: Understanding Buzz Words such as Technology, Digitalization, Cyber, New Innovation Technologies and General Purposes Technologies

Remains of the day

2021-06-25T13:00:09.376Z

by Kazuo Ishiguro

Chapter eighteen - The Best Part of the Day

The pier lights have been switched on, and a crowd of people behind me have just given a loud cheer to celebrate this event. There is still plenty of daylight left - the sky over the sea has turned a pale red - but it seems to me that everybody on this pier will be happy for night to fall. This confirms something that the man who was next to me on this bench said to me a short time ago. He claimed that, for many people, the evening was the best part of the day. It was the part of the day that they most looked forward to. There seems to be some truth in this. Otherwise, why would people cheer so loudly simply because the pier lights have come on?

The man had been sitting next to me for some minutes before I noticed him. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I did not know he was there until he said:
'Sea air is very good for you.'

He was a heavily built man in his late sixties, wearing an old brown jacket and an open-necked shirt. He was staring out across the water, so I was not sure whether he was talking to me. But since no one else responded, I eventually said:
'Yes, I'm sure it is.'

'The doctor says it's good for you, so I come up here as often as I can.'

The man went on to tell me about his various illnesses. He turned to me occasionally and gave me a nod or a grin, but most of the time he kept staring out to sea. I only really started to pay him attention, however, when he mentioned that he had once been a butler. Until he retired three years ago, he had been the butler in a small house near Weymouth. He had been the only full-time member of staff. When I asked him if he had ever worked with a proper staff under him, perhaps before the war, he replied:
'Oh, in those days I was just a footman. I didn't have enough experience to be a butler in those days. Being a butler was a difficult job in those big houses before the war.'

When he told me this, I thought it was appropriate to reveal my identity. My companion seemed suitably impressed when I mentioned Darlington Hall.
'And I was trying to explain the job to you,' he said with a laugh. 'You never know who you're talking to when you meet a stranger. So you had a big staff, I suppose. Before the war, I mean.'

He was a cheerful fellow, and seemed genuinely interested, so I was happy to tell him about Darlington Hall in the old days. Eventually, I said:
'Of course, things are quite different today under my present employer. An American gentleman.'

'Americans are the ones who can afford it now,' he said, giving me a little grin.

'Yes,' I said, laughing a little. 'That's true.'

The man turned back to the sea again and took a deep breath. We sat quietly for several moments.

'The fact is, of course,' I said after a while, 'I gave my best to Lord Darlington. I gave him the very best I had to give. And now - well - I find I do not have much left to give.'

The man nodded but said nothing, so I went on:
'Since my new employer, Mr Farraday, arrived, I've tried very hard. But whatever I do, I find I'm making more and more errors with my work. Unimportant errors, it's true, but I would never have made these errors in the past. And I know what these errors mean. I've given everything that I had to give. I gave it all to Lord Darlington.'

'Oh dear, do you want a handkerchief? I've got one somewhere,' my companion said.

'No thank you, it's quite all right. I'm very sorry. I'm afraid the travelling has made me tired. I'm very sorry.'

'You must have been very devoted to this Lord Darlington. And he died three years ago, you say?'

'Lord Darlington wasn't a bad man. He wasn't a bad man at all. At least he was able to say at the end of his life that he had made his own mistakes. His lordship was a courageous man. He chose a certain path in life. It proved to be a mistaken path, but at least he chose it for himself. I cannot claim that about myself. You see, I trusted in his lordship's wisdom. All those years I served him, I trusted that I was doing something worthwhile. I can't even say I made my own mistakes. Really - one has to ask oneself - where is the dignity in that?'

'Now look, I'm not sure I understand everything you're saying. But if you ask me, your attitude's all wrong, see? Don't keep looking back all the time, you'll only get depressed. Maybe you can't do your job as well as you used to, but it's the same for all of us. We've all got to relax at some time. Look at me - I've been very happy since I retired. We may not be as young as we were, but we have to keep looking forward.'

I believe it was then that he said:
'You've got to enjoy yourself. The evening's the best part of the day. You've done your day's work. Now you can relax and enjoy things. That's how I look at it. Ask anybody, they'll all tell you. The evening's the best part of the day.'

'I'm sure you're quite correct,' I said. 'I'm sorry. I'm probably too tired. I've been travelling rather a lot, you see.'

The man left twenty minutes ago, but I have remained here on this bench to witness the switching on of the pier lights. As I have already said, the happiness of the people around me at this small event seems to confirm what my companion said. For many people, the evening is the most enjoyable part of the day. Perhaps I should stop looking back so much. I should adopt a more positive attitude towards what remains of my day. After all, what purpose is there in forever looking back and blaming ourselves for what might or might not have happened? The hard reality, for people like you and me, is that our lives are in the hands of those great gentlemen who employ our services. What is the sense in worrying about whether we could or could not have taken more control? Surely it is enough that people like you and me have at least tried to make a real contribution, however small. Whatever the result is, surely that is a reason to be proud.

A few minutes ago, soon after the lights came on, I turned around on my bench and studied the crowd of people behind me. They were laughing and chatting. There are people of all ages wandering around this pier: families with children, couples, young and elderly, walking arm in arm. I paid particular attention to a group of six or seven people just a little way behind me. I thought at first that they were a group of friends. However, as I listened to their conversation, I realized that they were strangers who had never met before. As I watch them now, they are all laughing happily. It is strange how people can build such warmth among themselves so quickly It is possible that these people are simply sharing the anticipation of the evening ahead. On the other hand, I think the warmth between them is probably more a result of their skill at bantering. I can hear them exchanging one bantering remark after another. Perhaps it is time for me to pay more serious attention to the subject of bantering. After all, when one thinks about it, it is not such a foolish thing to do - particularly if, for some reason, it contains the key to human warmth.

I have, of course, already spent much time practising my bantering skills. It is possible, however, that I need to be more enthusiastic about it. Perhaps, when I return to Darlington Hall tomorrow - Mr Farraday will be away for another week - I will make a new start. I shall start practising bantering again with new energy. If I do this, I shall be able to pleasantly surprise Mr Farraday with my new skill when he returns.

Remains of the day

2021-06-23T05:38:38.828Z

by Kazuo Ishiguro

Chapter seventeen - Old Friends

September 1956

For many years I have often thought of visiting the seaside town of Weymouth. I have heard various people talk of pleasant holidays here. All of them mentioned the pier in particular, and I have been walking up and down along it for the last half-hour. They especially recommended visiting the pier 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 soon, so I have decided to sit down here on this bench and wait for them to come on. I have a good view of the sun setting over the sea. Although 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.

I arrived in this town yesterday afternoon, and have decided to remain here for a second night. I need a rest from motoring, and if I make an early start tomorrow, I shall be back at Darlington Hall by tea-time.

It is now two days since my meeting with Miss Kenton in the tea lounge of the Rose Garden Hotel in Little Compton. Miss Kenton surprised me by coming to the hotel. I was looking out of the window at the rain when a member of the hotel staff came to inform me that a lady wished to see me at reception. I rose and left the dining hall, but at reception I was told that the lady had gone into the tea lounge.

The tea lounge was empty apart from Miss Kenton. She rose as I entered, smiled and held out her hand to me.
'Ah, Mr Stevens. How nice to see you again.'

'Mrs Benn, how lovely.'

We moved two armchairs close to the window, and sat and talked for the next two hours. While we talked together, the rain continued to fall steadily on the square outside. A grey light from the window fell across her face, and I noticed the lines around her eyes and mouth. But, on the whole, Miss Kenton looked surprisingly similar to the person I remembered from twenty years ago. It was a great pleasure for me to see her again.

For the first twenty minutes we chatted politely about my journey. As we talked, I began to notice other ways in which Miss Kenton had changed since I last saw her. For instance, she appeared, somehow, slower. It is possible that this was simply the calmness that comes with age, but I could not help thinking that it was more a sort of tiredness with life. Every now and then, when she was not speaking, I thought I saw something like sadness in her expression. But I may have been mistaken about this.

The initial awkwardness of our conversation soon developed into something more relaxed and personal. We spent some time remembering various people from the past, or exchanging recent news about them. This was, I must say, most enjoyable. As we talked, the past began to come back to life for me. It was not just the memory of people and places that we talked about. I watched Miss Kenton while she was speaking, and suddenly recognized little expressions on her face, little movements of her hands, that brought back memories of our conversations all those years ago. The little smile that she gave when she finished speaking, and a certain gesture with her shoulders, had not changed at all.

After we had talked about people we had once known, Miss Kenton began to tell me about herself. I learnt, for instance, that her marriage to Mr Benn was not in as much trouble as I had understood from her letter. Although she had left her home for a period of four or five days - which was when she had written me her letter - she had returned, and Mr Benn had been very pleased to have her back. 'It is fortunate that one of us is sensible about these things,' she said with a smile.

I am, of course, aware that details of Miss Kenton's personal life with her husband were really not my business. I would not have talked to her about such private matters if there had not been an important professional reason. And my reason for encouraging conversation on this subject was the present staffing problem at Darlington Hall. But Miss Kenton did not seem to mind talking to me about these matters. In my opinion, this is pleasing evidence of the fact that we had once enjoyed a close working relationship together.

For a short time, Miss Kenton went on talking more generally about her husband, who is retiring soon because of the health. She also talked to me about her daughter, who is now married and expecting a child in the autumn. In fact, Miss Kenton gave me her daughter's address in Dorset. 'Catherine's heard all about you, Mr Stevens,' she said. 'She'd be so thrilled to meet you.'

Then I began to tell her about myself. I tried to describe to her what Darlington Hall is like today. I attempted to tell her what a good employer Mr Farraday is, and I described the changes to the house itself and the present staffing arrangements. Miss Kenton, I thought, became visibly happier when I talked about the house, and we were soon laughing again together over various old memories.

I spoke about Lord Darlington only once. We had been talking about the young Mr Cardinal, and I had to tell Miss Kenton that he had been tragically killed in Belgium during the war. I continued:
'Of course, his lordship was very fond of Mr Cardinal. He suffered very badly when the young man died.'

I did not wish to spoil the pleasant atmosphere with unhappy talk, so I quickly tried to change the subject. However, Miss Kenton wanted to hear more about Lord Darlington. She had read in the newspapers about his unsuccessful court action and, inevitably, took the opportunity to ask me about it.

'The fact is, Mrs Benn, throughout the war, people said some truly terrible things about his lordship. The newspaper that young Mr Cardinal worked for was especially vicious towards him. His lordship did nothing about it while the country was in danger, but the accusations against him continued after the war had ended. He was unable to continue suffering in silence. His lordship sincerely believed that he would get justice if he took that newspaper to court. Instead, of course, the newspaper simply became more popular, and his lordship's good name was destroyed for ever. Afterwards, his lordship became very ill. The house became so quiet. I would take him tea in the drawing room and, well... it really was most tragic to see.'

'I'm very sorry, Mr Stevens. I had no idea things had been so bad.'

'Oh yes, Mrs Benn. But enough of this. I know you remember Darlington Hall in the days when it was filled with important visitors. That is how his lordship deserves to be remembered.'

We did not mention Lord Darlington again. We talked for the rest of the time about happy memories, and we spent an extremely pleasant two hours together in the tea lounge of the Rose Garden Hotel. Indeed, I could hardly believe that two whole hours had passed when Miss Kenton looked up at the clock and said that she would have to return home. When I discovered that she would have to walk in the rain to a bus stop just outside the village, I insisted on taking her there in the Ford.

Soon we were motoring together down the village high street, past the shops, and out into the open country. Miss Kenton sat quietly watching the passing view, then turned to me and said:
'Why are you smiling to yourself like that, Mr Stevens?'

'Oh... You must excuse me, Mrs Benn, but I was just thinking about some of the things you wrote in your letter. I was a little worried when I read them, but I see now that there was no cause for alarm.'

'Oh? What things in particular are you referring to, Mr Stevens?'

'Well, for instance, Mrs Benn,' I said with a laugh, 'in one part of your letter you write: The rest of my life stretches out emptily before me. Or something like that.'

'Really, Mr Stevens,' she said, also laughing a little. 'I could not have written that.'

'I assure you, Mrs Benn, you did. I recall it very clearly.'

'Oh dear. Well, perhaps there are some days when I feel like that. But they pass quickly enough. Let me assure you, Mr Stevens, my life does not stretch out emptily before me. For instance, my husband and I are both looking forward to becoming grandparents.'

'Yes, indeed. That will be splendid for you.'

We drove on quietly for a few moments. Then Miss Kenton said:
'And what about you, Mr Stevens? What does the future hold for you back at Darlington Hall?'

'There is work, Mrs Benn. Work and more work. I wish I had some emptiness to look forward to.'

We both laughed at this. Then Miss Kenton pointed to a bus shelter further along the road. As we approached it, she said:
'Will you wait with me, Mr Stevens? The bus will only be a few minutes.'

The rain was still falling steadily as we got out of the car and hurried towards the shelter. Miss Kenton sat on the seat that was provided. I, however, remained on my feet where I would have a clear view of the approaching bus. After we had been waiting in silence for a few minutes, I finally managed to say:
'Excuse me, Mrs Benn. But the fact is, we may not meet again for a long time. I wonder if you would perhaps permit me to ask you a rather personal question. It is something that has been bothering me for some time.'

'Certainly, Mr Stevens. We are old friends, after all.'

'Indeed, as you say, we are old friends. Please do not reply if you feel you shouldn't. But the fact is, over the years I have had a number of letters from you, and they have all seemed to suggest that you are - how might one express it? - rather unhappy. I simply wondered if you were being badly treated in some way. Forgive me, but I have been worried about this for some time.'

'Mr Stevens, there is no need to be so embarrassed. We are old friends after all, are we not? In fact, I'm very grateful that you are so concerned. And I can reassure you on this matter absolutely. My husband does not treat me badly in any way. He is not a cruel or bad-tempered man at all.'

'I am so pleased to hear that, Mrs Benn.'
I leaned forward into the rain, looking for signs of the bus.

'I can see you are not very satisfied, Mr Stevens,' Miss Kenton said. 'Don't you believe me?'

'It's not that, Mrs Benn. Not that at all. It's just that you do not seem to have been very happy over the years. You have - forgive me - left your husband a number of times. If he does not treat you badly, then, well... I find the cause of your unhappiness rather difficult to understand.'

I looked out into the rain again. Eventually, I heard Miss Kenton say behind me:
'Mr Stevens, how can I explain? I hardly know myself why I do such things. But it is true, I have left him three times.' She paused a moment while I continued to look out towards the fields on the other side of the road. Then she said:
'I suppose, Mr Stevens, you're asking whether or not I love my husband.'

'Really, Mrs Benn, I would never...'

'I feel I should answer you, Mr Stevens,' Mrs Benn interrupted me. 'As you say, we may not meet again for many years. Yes, I do love my husband. I did not at first. I did not for a long time. When I left Darlington Hall all those years ago, I never realized I was really, truly leaving. I believe I thought of it, Mr Stevens, as simply another way to annoy you. It was a shock to come out here and find myself married. For a long time I was very unhappy, very unhappy indeed. But then the years passed, there was the war and Catherine grew up. Then suddenly, one day, I realized that I loved my husband. If you spend so much time with someone, you get used to him. He is a kind, steady man, and yes, Mr Stevens, I do love him.'

Miss Kenton fell silent again for a moment. Then she went on: 'But there are times, of course, when one thinks to oneself: "What a terrible mistake I have made with my life." And one thinks about a different life, a better life one might have had. For instance, I started to think about a life I might have had with you, Mr Stevens. And I suppose that is when I get angry over something small and unimportant and leave. But I always return to my husband. We cannot turn the clock back now. We cannot spend our lives dreaming about what might have been. One should be grateful for what one has.'

I do not think I responded immediately, for it took me a moment or two to fully understand her words. Moreover, the implication of Miss Kenton's words did create a certain amount of sorrow within me. Indeed - why should I not admit it? - at that moment, my heart was breaking. Before long, however, I turned to her and said with a smile:
'You are absolutely right, Mrs Benn. As you say, it is too late to turn back the clock. We must both be grateful for what we do have. And from what you tell me, Mrs Benn, you have many good reasons for feeling happy. In fact, it seems that you and Mr Benn have some extremely happy years ahead of you. You really must not let any more foolish ideas come between yourself and the happiness you deserve.'

'Of course, you are right, Mr Stevens. You are so kind.'

'Ah, Mrs Benn, I think that the bus is coming now.' I stepped out into the rain and signalled, while Miss Kenton stood up and waited at the edge of the shelter. As the bus slowed down, I glanced at Miss Kenton and noticed that her eyes had filled with tears. I smiled and said:
'Now, Mrs Benn, you must take good care of yourself. Many people say that retirement is the best part of life for a married couple. You must make these years happy ones for yourself and your husband. We may never meet again, Mrs Benn, so I ask you to remember what I have just said to you.'

'I will, Mr Stevens, thank you. And thank you for the lift. It was so very kind of you. It was so nice to see you again.'

'It was a great pleasure to see you again, Mrs Benn.'

Remains of the day

2021-06-21T01:49:23.060Z

by Kazuo Ishiguro

Chapter sixteen - Events of International Significance

1936

Mr Cardinal's father, a close friend and colleague of his lordship's for many years, had been tragically killed in a riding accident three or four years earlier. Meanwhile, young Mr Cardinal had become a journalist famous for his funny, clever articles on international affairs.

Lord Darlington did not like Mr Cardinal's articles very much. He often used to look up from his newspaper and say something like:
'Young Reggie's writing such nonsense again. I'm glad his father's not alive to read this.'

But Mr Cardinal's articles did not prevent him from being a frequent visitor at the house. Indeed, his lordship treated him like a member of his own family, although Mr Cardinal still always gave prior warning of his visits. That evening, therefore, I was a little surprised when I answered the door and saw him standing there.
'Oh, hello, Stevens, how are you?' he said. 'I was just wondering if I could stay for the night. I've got a bit of a problem, I'm afraid.'

'It is very nice to see you again, sir. I shall tell his lordship you are here.'

'I had intended to stay at Mr Roland's place, but there's been a misunderstanding and they've gone away somewhere. I hope it's not too inconvenient. I mean, there aren't any special arrangements for tonight, are there?'

'I believe, sir, that his lordship is expecting some gentlemen to call after dinner.'

'Oh, that's bad luck. I seem to have chosen a bad night. I'd better stay out of the way, I think. I've got some work to do, anyway.'

'I shall tell his lordship that you are here, sir. You are in good time to join him for dinner.'

I left Mr Cardinal in the drawing room and made my way to the study, where his lordship was working on some papers. When I told him of Mr Cardinal's arrival, a look of surprised annoyance crossed his face. Then he leaned back in his chair with a deep frown.
'Tell Mr Cardinal I'll be down soon,' he said finally.

When I returned downstairs, I discovered Mr Cardinal walking around the drawing room. He seemed rather nervous. I gave him his lordship's message and asked him if he would like some refreshments.
'Just some tea, thank you, Stevens. Who is his lordship expecting tonight?'

'I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I'm unable to tell you.'

'No idea at all?'

'I'm sorry, sir.'

'Hmm, interesting. Oh well, I'd better stay out of the way.'

Soon afterwards, I went down to Miss Kenton's room. She was sitting at her table, although there was nothing in front of her and her hands were empty. Indeed, something about her suggested that she had been sitting like that for some time.
'Mr Cardinal is here, Miss Kenton,' I said. 'He'll require his usual room tonight.'

'Very well, Mr Stevens. I shall prepare it before I leave.'

'Ah, you are going out this evening, Miss Kenton?'

'I am indeed, Mr Stevens.'

Perhaps I looked a little surprised, for she went on:
'You will recall, Mr Stevens, that we discussed this a fortnight ago.'

'Yes, of course, Miss Kenton. I beg your pardon. I had forgotten.'

'Is something the matter, Mr Stevens?'

'Not at all, Miss Kenton. Some visitors are expected this evening, but your presence will not be required.'

'We agreed a fortnight ago, Mr Stevens, that I could have this evening off.'

'Of course, Miss Kenton. I do beg your pardon.'

I turned to leave, but then I was stopped at the door by Miss Kenton saying:
'Mr Stevens, I have something to tell you.'

'Yes, Miss Kenton?'

'It is about my friend, whom I am going to meet tonight.'

'Yes, Miss Kenton.'

'He has asked me to marry him. I thought I ought to tell you.'

'Indeed, Miss Kenton. That is very interesting.'

'I have not made up my mind yet. He starts a new job in the West Country next month. As I say, I haven't decided yet. But I thought you should be informed of the situation.'

'I'm very grateful, Miss Kenton. I do hope you have a pleasant evening. Now please excuse me.'

I met Miss Kenton again about twenty minutes later. I was halfway up the back stairs carrying a heavy tray when I heard the sound of angry footsteps on the floor below me. Turning, I saw Miss Kenton staring up at me from the foot of the stairs.
'Mr Stevens, do I understand that you wish me to remain on duty this evening?'

'Not at all, Miss Kenton. As you explained, you did inform me of your intentions some time ago.'

'But I can see you are very unhappy about my absence tonight.'

'Not at all, Miss Kenton.'

'Then why are you making so much noise in the kitchen? And why do you keep marching up and down the corridor outside my room? Were you hoping to make me change my mind?'

'Miss Kenton, the slight excitement in the kitchen is only because Mr Cardinal has come to dinner. There is absolutely no reason why you should not go out this evening.'

'I intend to go out, Mr Stevens. I wish to make this clear. I made arrangements weeks ago.'

'Indeed, Miss Kenton. And once again, I wish you a very pleasant evening.'

There was an odd atmosphere at dinner that evening between the two gentlemen. For long moments, they ate in silence. During one of these silences, Mr Cardinal said:
'Something special tonight, sir?'

'Eh?'

'Your visitors this evening. Special?'

'I'm afraid I can't tell you, my boy.'

'Oh dear. I suppose this means I can't join you.'

'Join me in what?'

'Whatever's taking place tonight.'

'Oh, it wouldn't interest you. Besides, it's private. And you're a journalist.'

After dinner, the gentlemen went into the smoking room. However, in contrast to their quiet mood at dinner, they soon began to exchange angry words with each other. Of course, I did not stop to listen, but I could not avoid hearing his lordship shouting:
'But that's not your business, my boy! Not your business!'

I was in the dining room when the two gentlemen eventually came out. They seemed calmer. As they crossed the hall, his lordship turned to Mr Cardinal and said:
'Now remember, my boy I'm trusting you.'

'Yes, yes,' Mr Cardinal said with some annoyance. 'I promise.'

At eight thirty, I heard the sound of motors outside. I opened the door to a policeman. Over his shoulder I could see that other policemen with guns were moving off in different directions. The next moment, I was showing two very important gentlemen into the hall, where they were met by his lordship. He quickly took them into the drawing room.

Ten minutes later there was the sound of another car and I opened the door to Herr Ribbentrop, the German Ambassador. He, too, disappeared quickly into the drawing room. A few minutes later, when I was called in to provide refreshments, the four gentlemen were discussing sausages. The atmosphere seemed, on the surface, quite friendly.

After serving the four gentlemen with drinks, I went to my position near the entrance in the hall. I had been standing there for two hours when the back doorbell was rung. When I went down, I discovered a policeman standing there with Miss Kenton. He asked me to confirm her identity. Minutes later, as I was shutting the door, I noticed Miss Kenton waiting for me, and said:
'I hope you had a pleasant evening, Miss Kenton.'

She made no reply, so I repeated my comment as we were crossing the floor of the unlit kitchen.
'I did, thank you, Mr Stevens,' she said at last.

'I'm pleased to hear that.'

Behind me, Miss Kenton's footsteps suddenly stopped, and I heard her say:
'Are you not at all interested in what took place between my friend and me, Mr Stevens?'

'I do not mean to be rude, Miss Kenton, but I really must return upstairs immediately. Events of international significance are taking place in this house.'

'Very well, Mr Stevens. As you are in such a hurry, I shall be brief. I have accepted my friend's proposal of marriage.'

'Really, Miss Kenton? Then may I offer you my congratulations.'

'Thank you, Mr Stevens. Of course, I will not break my contract, but I would be very grateful if you could release me earlier. My friend begins his new job in the West Country in two weeks' time.'

'I will do my best to find a replacement at the earliest opportunity, Miss Kenton,' I said. 'Now please excuse me. I must return upstairs.'

I started to walk away again but, just as I had reached the door, I heard Miss Kenton's voice. 'Mr Stevens,' she said, her voice echoing strangely in the dark and empty kitchen. 'After the many years of service I have given in this house, is that all you have to say?'

'Miss Kenton, you have my warmest congratulations. But I repeat, there are matters of international importance taking place upstairs, and I must return immediately.'

'Did you know, Mr Stevens, that you have been a very important figure for my friend and me?'

'Really, Miss Kenton?'

'Yes, Mr Stevens. We often amuse ourselves with little stories about you.'

'Indeed, Miss Kenton. Now please excuse me.'

I went up to the hall and returned to my position by the main door. However, five minutes later, Mr Cardinal appeared in the doorway of the library and signalled for me to come over.
'Hate to bother you, Stevens,' he said. 'But could you possibly fetch me a little more whisky? The bottle you brought in earlier seems to be finished.'

'You are very welcome to whatever refreshments you desire, sir. However, as you have some work to do, I wonder whether another bottle is a good idea?'

'My work will be fine, Stevens. So be a good fellow and get me another bottle.'

'Very well, sir.'

When I returned to the library a moment later, Mr Cardinal was wandering around, reading the names of books on the shelves. As I approached, he sat down heavily into a leather armchair. I went over to him, poured a little whisky and gave him the glass.
'You know, Stevens, we've been friends for some time, haven't we?'

'Indeed, sir.'

'I always look forward to a little chat with you whenever I come here. Would you like to join me in a little drink?'

I politely refused his kind invitation, but Mr Cardinal insisted. 'I do wish you'd sit down, Stevens. I want us to talk as friends.'

'I'm sorry, sir.' I put down my tray and sat down - in an appropriate fashion - in the armchair that Mr Cardinal was indicating.

'That's better,' Mr Cardinal said. 'Now, Stevens, I really ought to be truthful with you. As you have probably guessed, I didn't come here tonight by accident. Somebody told me about what's going on here. I don't suppose you can tell me whether the Prime Minister's here, can you?'

'The Prime Minister, sir?'

'Oh, it's all right, you don't have to tell me. I understand you're in a difficult position.' He looked away tiredly for a moment towards his papers, which were scattered over the desk. Then he turned to me again and said:
'You know, Stevens, his lordship's been like a second father to me. I care for him very deeply. But we must face facts. He's in trouble, and I'm extremely worried about him. He's dealing with very powerful people here, and he doesn't really understand what's going on.'

'Really, sir?'

'Stevens, do you know what's happening at this exact moment in that room across the hall? There are four men in that room - I don't need you to confirm it. His lordship, the British Prime Minister, the head of the Foreign Office and the German Ambassador. His lordship has worked hard for this meeting, and he genuinely believes he's doing something good and honourable. Do you know why his lordship has brought these gentlemen here tonight?'

'I'm afraid not, sir.'

'Tell me, Stevens, don't you care at all? Aren't you curious?'

'I do not believe that I am not curious, sir. However, it is not my job to display curiosity about such matters.'

'I suppose you think that's being loyal? To his lordship? Or to the King?'

'I'm sorry, sir. I fail to understand what you are proposing.'

Mr Cardinal shook his head sadly. 'I'm not proposing anything, Stevens. Quite frankly, I don't know what we can do. But I wish you would be more curious.'

He was silent for a moment and seemed to be staring emptily at the area of carpet around my feet. Finally he looked up and said:
'Are you sure you won't join me in a drink, Stevens?'

'No thank you, sir.'

'The fact is, Stevens, his lordship doesn't realize what's happening. He's become Herr Hitler's puppet. Have you noticed what's been happening over the last three or four years?'

'I'm sorry, sir, I'm afraid I have not.'

'Of course not, Stevens. You're not curious. The problem is, Stevens,' Mr Cardinal said, moving into a more upright position in his armchair, 'his lordship is a true, old English gentleman. He feels it is honourable to offer generosity and friendship to a defeated enemy. But they're using him, Stevens - the Nazis are using him to help them achieve their own terrible aims. Do you remember that American senator all those years ago? He said the world was too complicated for true gentlemen. Well, he was right. You've seen how they have used his lordship, haven't you, Stevens?'

'I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot say that I have.'

'Well, I don't know about you, Stevens, but I'm going to do something about it. If Father were alive, he would do something to stop it. You have no idea what they're discussing in that room across the hall, Stevens? Then I'll tell you. His lordship has been trying to persuade the Prime Minister to accept an invitation to visit Herr Hitler. And that is not all, Stevens. His lordship is discussing the possibility of a royal visit to Germany. Everybody knows the new king has always been enthusiastic about the Nazis. Well, apparently he's keen to accept Herr Hitler's invitation. His lordship is now trying to persuade the British government to agree to this awful idea.'

'I'm sorry, sir, but I have to say that I trust his lordship's judgement completely.'

At that moment I heard the bell from the drawing room. I asked Mr Cardinal to excuse me, and I left the room.

In the drawing room, the air was thick with tobacco smoke. The gentlemen sat and smoked in silence, while his lordship asked me to bring up a bottle of wine from the cellar. As I was making my way along the darkness of the corridor towards the cellar, the door to Miss Kenton's room suddenly opened.
'I am surprised to find you still awake, Miss Kenton,' I said when I saw her in the doorway.

'Mr Stevens, I was very foolish earlier,' she said.

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

'Mr Stevens, you must not take anything I said earlier seriously. I was simply being foolish.'

'Miss Kenton, I cannot remember what you may be referring to. Besides, events of great importance are developing upstairs, and I cannot stop to chat with you. I suggest that you go to bed.'

With that, I hurried on. It did not take me long to find the bottle in the cellar. Just a few minutes after my brief meeting with Miss Kenton, I was walking along the corridor again on my return journey. As I approached Miss Kenton's door, I saw from the light around its edges that she was still awake. And that was the moment, I am now sure, that has remained clearly in my memory to this day. At that moment, as I paused in the darkness of the corridor, a tray in my hands, something told me that just a few metres away, on the other side of the door, Miss Kenton was crying. I do not know why I was so sure of this. I had certainly not heard any sounds of crying.

I do not know how long I remained standing there. At the time it seemed a significant period, but in reality it was probably only a few seconds. For, of course, I was required to hurry upstairs to serve some of the most important gentlemen in Europe. I'm sure that I would not have delayed there for long.

After serving the gentlemen in the drawing room, I returned to my position in the hall. I stood there for another hour until the gentlemen finally departed. As I stood there, a strange thing began to happen. I began to experience a deep feeling of pride. I had, after all, just come through an extremely difficult evening, throughout which I had managed to preserve my dignity. My father would have been proud of the way I had performed my duty that night.

Remains of the day

2021-06-18T07:07:56.678Z

by Kazuo Ishiguro

Chapter fifteen - The Rose Garden Hotel
1956

I have finally arrived at Little Compton, in Cornwall. I have recently finished lunch and am now sitting in the dining hall of the Rose Garden Hotel. Outside, the rain is falling steadily.

I have spent much of the past hour watching the rain falling on the village square. I have considered leaving now to meet Miss Kenton, but in my letter I informed her that I would see her at three o'clock. I do not want to surprise her by arriving too early. If the rain does not stop, I shall probably remain here and drink tea until the proper time for me to go.

I am surprised that it is raining, because the sun was shining brightly this morning when I got up. Mrs Taylor cooked me a fine breakfast of farm eggs and toast, and Doctor Carlisle called for me at seven thirty, as he had promised.

'I found a can of petrol for you,' he announced as soon as I had said goodbye to the Taylors. I thanked him and offered to pay, but he refused to accept my money.
'Nonsense,' he said. 'It's just enough for you to reach the next village. They have a proper garage there.'

I sat in the passenger seat of Doctor Carlisle's car as he drove out of the village and up a narrow road between tall trees. After asking me how I had slept at the Taylors, he said quite suddenly:
'I hope you don't think I'm being rude. But you aren't a manservant by any chance, are you?'

I must confess, I felt some relief when I heard this question.
'I am indeed, sir. In fact, I am the butler of Darlington Hall, near Oxford.'

'I thought so. When I heard that you had met Winston Churchill, I thought that you were either lying or that you must be a kind of servant.'

He turned to me with a friendly smile, and I said:
'It was not my intention to deceive anyone, sir. However…'

'Oh, there's no need to explain. I can see how it happened. I mean, the people around here are sure to think you're at least a lord.' The doctor laughed loudly. 'It's probably good to be mistaken for a lord from time to time.'

We travelled in silence for a few moments, then Doctor Carlisle said to me:
'Well, I hope you enjoyed your little stay with us here.'

'I did very much, thank you, sir.'

'I wish you wouldn't call me "sir" all the time, Mr Stevens. Now this road should be familiar to you. Probably looks rather different in the daylight. Is that the car there? What a handsome vehicle!'

Doctor Carlisle stopped just behind the Ford, got out and said again:
'What a handsome vehicle.' Then he quickly produced the can of petrol and kindly filled the tank of the Ford for me. When I sat once again in the driving seat and turned the key, the engine came to life. I thanked Doctor Carlisle and we said goodbye to each other. I followed his car along the twisting hill road for two or three kilometres, and then he turned off towards Stanbury and I was alone again.

I crossed the border into Cornwall at about nine o'clock. This was three hours before the rain began, and the clouds were still a brilliant white. In fact, the scenery was some of the most beautiful I had ever seen. Unfortunately, I did not pay it the attention it deserved, because I was thinking for most of the time about Miss Kenton. Before the end of the day, I kept thinking, I would be meeting her again for the first time in twenty years.

And now, as I sit here in Little Compton, watching the rain as it splashes on the pavements of the village square outside, my mind keeps returning to the past. I have been thinking about one thing in particular all morning.

I remember standing alone in the corridor outside Miss Kenton's room. I was standing half turned towards her door, wondering whether or not I should knock. For some reason I was sure that behind that door, just a few metres away from me, Miss Kenton was crying. As I stood there, a very strange feeling rose inside me. I can't remember exactly why I was standing there. I suggested earlier that this might have been just after Miss Kenton received news of her aunt's death. But now, having thought more about it, I believe I may have been a little confused about this matter. I think it is more likely that this incident took place one evening a few months later. It was the evening when the young Mr Cardinal arrived at Darlington Hall rather unexpectedly.

Remains of the day

2021-06-16T09:46:35.161Z

by Kazuo Ishiguro

Chapter fourteen - Dignity

I feel very uncomfortable about what has just happened, but I don't know how I could have prevented the misunderstanding regarding my identity. By the time I was aware of what was happening, things had already gone too far. I could not have told these people the truth without much embarrassment. On the other hand, I do not see that any real harm has been done. I will, after all, be leaving these people in the morning and will probably never meet them again. I ought to stop worrying myself about the matter.

However, apart from the unfortunate misunderstanding, there is something else about this evening that deserves some thought: Mr Harry Smith's comments regarding the nature of 'dignity'.

There is, I suppose, some truth in the idea that poor people are as capable of dignity as rich people. Perhaps everybody in the land has a duty to think about the important matters of the day. But in reality, how can ordinary people be expected to have 'strong opinions' on everything - as Mr Harry Smith believes that the villagers here do? In my opinion, these expectations are not only impossible but also undesirable. There is, after all, a real limit to how much ordinary people can learn and know. It cannot be wise, surely, to expect every single person to be able to contribute 'strong opinions' to the great debates of the nation.

I remember an instance which illustrates the limitations of Mr Harry Smith's arguments rather well. It occurred before the war, around 1935.

Very late one night, I was called to the drawing room, where his lordship had been entertaining three gentlemen since dinner. I had, of course, been called to the drawing room many times that evening. On each occasion, the three gentlemen had been deep in serious conversation. 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 to have a word with you.'

Mr Spencer looked at me for a moment from his armchair, then said:
'My good man, I have a question for you. We need your help on a certain topic that we've been debating. Tell me, do you think our debts to America are responsible for the present low levels of trade?'

I was naturally a little surprised by this, but then quickly understood the situation. The gentleman clearly expected me to be puzzled by his question. It took me a moment or two to realize what was happening, but in that time I must have given the wrong impression. The gentlemen in the room probably thought that I was trying to think of an answer to the question, for I saw them all exchange amused smiles.

'I'm very sorry, sir,' I said, 'but I am unable to be of assistance on this matter.'

I was by now in control of the situation, but the gentlemen went on smiling. Then Mr Spencer said:
'Then perhaps you will help us with another matter. Do you think that the economic problems in Europe would improve if there was a military agreement between France and Russia?'

'I'm very sorry, sir, but I am unable to be of assistance on this matter either.'

'Oh dear,' said Mr Spencer. 'So you can't help us.'

There was more quiet laughter, then his lordship said:
'Thank you, Stevens. That is all.'

But Mr Spencer had not finished. 'Please, Darlington,' he said. 'I have one more question to ask your good man here. I very much wanted his advice concerning a problem that has been bothering us all recently. My good fellow, please help us. What was Monsieur Laval really intending when he made his recent speech about North Africa?'
'I'm sorry, sir, but I am unable to assist in this matter.'

'You see, gentleman,' Mr Spencer turned to the others and said, 'our man is unable to assist us in these matters.'

The laughter became louder, and he went on:
'But we still continue with the ridiculous belief that our good man here, and a few million others like him, should decide how to run the country. With a parliamentary system like ours, I'm not surprised that we never seem able to find solutions to any of our problems. It would be just as good to ask the mothers' union to organize a war.'

There was open laughter at this comment, during which his lordship said quietly:
'Thank you, Stevens. That is all.'

The following morning his lordship came into the games room, where I was dusting the paintings, and said:
'I'm sorry, Stevens. "We were awful to you last night.'

'Not at all, sir,' I said from the top of my stepladder. 'I was only happy to be of service.'

'It was terrible. I think we'd all had too much to drink. Please accept my apologies.'

'Thank you, sir. But I am happy to assure you I was not offended at all.'

His lordship walked over to a leather armchair and sat down with a tired look on his face. For a while he stared out of the windows at the winter sunshine over the hills. I looked down from my stepladder and was suddenly aware of how much his lordship had changed in recent years. The pressures of life had had a great effect on him. He had become extremely thin, his hair had gone completely white and there were deep lines on his face.

Suddenly, his lordship spoke. 'You must understand, Stevens, we're making terrible mistakes in this country. If it's any comfort to you, last night you did contribute to our discussion. There's too much nonsense nowadays about ordinary people telling the government what to do.'

'Indeed, sir.'

'We're really too slow in this country to recognize when something's out of date. Other great nations have recognized the fact that change is needed. But our country...' Lord Darlington stared in silence at the view from the window for a moment, and sadly shook his head. 'Our country is always the last to change. One day soon, we'll need to accept the fact that democracy is old-fashioned and doesn't work in today's complicated world.'

'The nation does seem to be in a regrettable condition, sir,' I said.

'Absolutely, Stevens. Look at Germany and Italy. See what strong leadership can achieve if they're free to act. No democratic nonsense there. If your house is on fire, you don't call the staff into the drawing room and discuss the best method of escape for an hour, do you?'

As I remember these words, it occurs to me that many of Lord Darlington's ideas probably seem rather odd today - perhaps even unattractive. But there is surely some truth in what he said to me that morning in the games room. Of course, it is ridiculous to expect a butler to answer the sort of questions that Mr Spencer asked me that night. It is clearly nonsense, therefore, for Mr Harry Smith to say that people can only have dignity if their voices are heard in high places. The fact is, the great affairs of the nation will always be too complicated for people like you and me to understand. Only great gentlemen like Lord Darlington can decide what is right and what is not right for our country. It is the duty of the rest of us to serve these gentlemen to the best of our ability.

Throughout the years I served him, Lord Darlington always made all the important decisions. I was not expected to offer him advice or judgement. It was my duty to be loyal to him, and not to worry about whether he was right or wrong. I was devoted to him and I performed my duties as well as I was able. Indeed, many may consider my performance of my duties to have been 'first class'. It is hardly my fault if many people now believe that his lordship's life and work were a sad waste. The passage of time may now show that some of Lord Darlington's efforts were foolish, but I have no regrets about my part in things. It is illogical for me to feel any shame.

Remains of the day

2021-06-15T09:05:41.625Z

by Kazuo Ishiguro

Chapter thirteen - A Difficult Evening

September 1956

I see that my memories are becoming more and more upsetting. This is probably because of the difficult evening I have just had. My present mood is also possibly connected to the fact that tomorrow - if I can find some petrol - I shall be arriving in Little Compton and I shall be seeing Miss Kenton again for the first time in twenty years.

Of course, I expect our interview to be polite and professional in character. The most important thing is for me to discover whether Miss Kenton is interested in returning to Darlington Hall or not. I have to confess that, having re-read her letter, I am beginning to have doubts. Although it seems that her marriage, sadly, has broken down, and that she is without a home, I cannot find any words which state clearly that she wishes to return. But there is something about the way she describes her memories of the house that is definitely nostalgic. It would not surprise me to discover that she would be happy to come back.

But again, why am I wasting time imagining what might or might not happen in the future? It will happen soon enough. And I have moved away from the subject of this evenings events. These last few hours, I have to say, have been very difficult for me. I am sure that my kind hosts, Mr and Mrs Taylor, did not deliberately intend to make me suffer. But as soon as I had sat down to supper at their table, a most uncomfortable situation began to develop.

***
A large, rough wooden table dominated the room downstairs at the front of the cottage. On its surface there were many small marks left over the years by bread-knives and other sharp instruments. I could see them clearly despite the fact that the only light in the room came from an oil lamp on a shelf in one corner.

'We've been without electricity for almost two months,' Mr Taylor explained. 'But we don't miss it much. There are a few houses in the village that have never had electricity at all. Oil gives a warmer light.'

Mrs Taylor served us with a good soup, and I was looking forward to an hour or so of pleasant conversation before going to bed. However, just as we had finished supper and Mr Taylor was pouring me a glass of home-made beer, we heard footsteps on the stony path outside.

'I wonder who that is?' Mr Taylor said, a tone of mild curiosity in his voice.

'It's George Andrews,' a voice came from outside. 'I was just passing.'

The next moment a well-built, middle-aged man in farming clothes entered the room, and Mr and Mrs Taylor gave him a warm welcome. With the easy informality of a regular visitor, he sat down on a small chair by the doorway and removed his muddy boots. Then he came towards the table, stopped and stood in front of me like a soldier reporting to an officer.

'The name's Andrews, sir,' he said. 'A very good evening to you. I'm very sorry to hear about your problem, but I'm sure you'll be happy spending the night here in Moscombe.'

The fact that Mr Andrews had heard about my 'problem' puzzled me. But I replied with a smile that I was very grateful for the warm treatment I had received. I had of course been referring to Mr and Mrs Taylor's kindness, but Mr Andrews seemed to think that my expression of thanks included him because he immediately said:

'Oh no, sir, you're most welcome. We're very pleased to have you. We don't have gentlemen like you passing this way very often. We're all very pleased you could visit us.'

The way he said this seemed to suggest that the whole village was aware of my 'problem' and of my arrival at this cottage.

A few minutes later another visitor arrived. He looked and behaved so much like Mr Andrews that at first I thought they were brothers. But then the newcomer introduced himself to me as:
'Morgan, sir. Trevor Morgan.'

Mr Morgan expressed regret concerning my 'problem', and assured me that all would be well in the morning. He finished by saying:
'It's a privilege to have a gentleman like yourself here in Moscombe, sir.'

Before I could think of a reply to this, a middle-aged couple arrived and were introduced to me as Mr and Mrs Harry Smith. As they took their places around the table, Mr Harry Smith said:
'I believe that beautiful old Ford up there on Thornley Bush Hill, sir, is your car?'

I agreed, then added:
'But I'm surprised to hear you've seen it.'

'I've not seen it myself, sir. But Dave Thornton passed it on his tractor a short time ago as he was coming home. He was so surprised to see it there, he actually stopped and got out.' Then Mr Smith turned to the others around the table. 'It's an absolute beauty. Dave said he'd never seen a car like it.'

'Your health, sir,' somebody said, lifting a glass of beer, and everybody around the table drank to my health.

I smiled and said:

'I assure you, the privilege is all mine.'

'You're very kind, sir,' Mrs Smith said. 'You're a real gentleman. Not like Mr Lindsay. He may have had a lot of money, but he was no gentleman.'

There was general agreement with this comment, and Mr Taylor explained by saying:
'Mr Lindsay used to live in the big house not far from here, sir. He wasn't very popular.'

Mrs Smith then leaned towards me and said:
'We told Doctor Carlisle you were here, sir. The doctor would be very pleased to meet you.'

'I expect he has patients to see,' Mrs Taylor added apologetically 'I'm afraid we can't say for certain when he'll be here.'

Before I could reply, Mr Harry Smith leaned forward and said:
'That Mr Lindsay, he had it all wrong, see? Acting the way he did, thinking he was so wonderful. But he soon learnt his lesson.'

'He was no gentleman,' Mr Taylor agreed.

'That's right, sir,' Mr Harry Smith said. 'He had a fine house and good suits, but we could all tell he was no gentleman.'

'That's true,' Mr Taylor said. 'You can always tell a real gentleman. You, for example, sir. It's not just the style of your clothes, or your fine way of speaking. There's something else that shows you're a gentleman. Hard to say exactly what it is, but it's clear for everyone to see.'

There were more sounds of agreement around the table.

Mr Morgan, who had said little since his arrival, bent forward and said to me:
'What do you think it is, sir? Maybe someone who's got it has a better idea of what it is. We're all talking about who's got it and who hasn't, and we don't know what we're talking about. Perhaps you could tell us, sir?'

There was silence around the table and everybody looked at me. I gave a small cough and said:
'It is hardly for me to say what qualities I may or may not possess. But in answer to your question, I suspect that the word you're looking for is dignity.'

'There's a lot of truth in that, sir,' Mr Andrews nodded, and a number of voices agreed with him.

But Harry Smith said:
'Excuse me for not agreeing with you completely, sir, but in my opinion dignity doesn't just belong to gentlemen. Dignity's something every man and woman in the country can get, if they try. Forgive me, sir, but we like to express our opinions directly around here.'

I decided that it would be too complicated to attempt to argue with him, so I just smiled and said:
'Of course, you're quite correct.'

Mr Harry Smith, however, had not finished. He leaned even further forward and began to talk about the war. In his opinion, everybody who fought Hitler was a hero. Every Englishman who risked his life in order to defend the country had an important part to play. There should be freedom of speech and dignity for all Englishmen, rich or poor. It didn't matter how poor or uneducated a person was. Everybody's opinion was important, and the government should pay attention to what people from villages like Moscornbe wanted to say. Mr Taylor tried to interrupt, but nothing could stop Mr Harry Smith. After several minutes, he finished by saying:
'I'm not talking politics, sir. I'm just saying that you can't have dignity if you're a slave. That's why we fought Hitler. For the freedom to have dignity, however poor we might be.'

'This may seem like a small, unimportant place, sir,' his wife then added. 'But we lost many young men in the war.'

At this, the room went very quiet. Finally, Mr Taylor broke the silence by saying to me:
'Harry does a lot of organizing for our local member of parliament. He loves telling everybody what's wrong with the country.'

'Ah, but I was saying what's right about the country.' Mr Harry Smith attempted to start arguing again.

But Mr Andrews ignored him and asked me:

'Have you had any connection with politics yourself, sir?'

'Not directly,' I said. 'And certainly not these days. More before the war, perhaps.'

'It's just that I remember a Mr Stevens who was a member of parliament a couple of years ago. That wasn't you, was it, sir?'

'Oh no,' I said with a laugh.

I am not at all sure what made me make my next statement. I can only say that it seemed somehow appropriate to the circumstances. For then I said:
'In fact, I was more involved in international affairs than domestic ones.'

At these words, my listeners looked at me with a mixture of wonder and respect. I added quickly:
'Of course, I was never in government myself. I was only an unofficial adviser.' But they continued to stare at me quietly.

Finally Mrs Taylor broke the silence and said:

'Excuse me, sir, have you ever met Mr Churchill?'

'Mr Churchill? He did come to the house on a number of occasions. But frankly, Mrs Taylor, while I was involved in great affairs, Mr Churchill was not as important as he later became. People like Mr Eden and Lord Halifax were more frequent visitors in those days.'

'But you have actually met Mr Churchill, sir? That must have been a great honour.'

'I don't agree with many things Mr Churchill says,' Mr Harry Smith said, 'but he's a great man. It must have been an honour to discuss things with him.'

'It was, as you say, a privilege to be in such a great man's company,' I said. 'It is true that I have been very fortunate. I have met not only Mr Churchill, but also many other great men from America and Europe. I have been very lucky to be able to advise such important people on the great topics of the day. I do feel most grateful for my good fortune.'

The conversation continued in this way for some time. I was asked about the famous people I had met, and Mr Harry Smith kept repeating how important it was for people 'in high places' to listen to the opinions of ordinary people like himself.

Suddenly his wife said:
'I wonder where Doctor Carlisle is. I'm sure the gentleman would appreciate some educated talk now.'

Everybody laughed. I decided the time was right for me to go to bed.
'Although it has been extremely enjoyable to meet you all,' I said, 'I must confess I'm beginning to feel a little tired...'

'Of course, sir,' Mrs Taylor said, 'you must be exhausted. Perhaps I'll fetch another blanket for you. It's getting much colder at night now.'

'No, I assure you, Mrs Taylor, I'll be perfectly comfortable.'

But before I could rise from the table, Mr Morgan said:
'Ah, there's someone coming. I expect that's the doctor.'

'I really must go,' I said. 'I feel quite exhausted.'

'But I'm sure this is the doctor now, sir,' said Mrs Smith. 'Do wait a few more minutes.'

Just as she said this, there was a knock on the door and a voice said
'It's only me, Mrs Taylor.'

Doctor Carlisle was a tall, thin gentleman of about forty years old. No sooner had he said good evening to everybody than Mrs Taylor said to him:
'This is our gentleman here, Doctor. His car's stuck up at Thornley Bush and he's been having to listen to Harry's speeches as a result.'

The doctor came up to the table.
'Richard Carlisle,' he said with a cheerful smile as I rose to shake his hand. 'Bad luck about your car. Still, I hope you're being well looked after.'

'Thank you,' I replied. 'Everyone has been most kind.'

'Well, nice to have you with us.' Doctor Carlisle sat down directly opposite me. 'Which part of the country are you from?'

'Oxfordshire,' I said. Indeed, I found it hard to resist the urge to add 'sir'.

'I have an uncle who lives just outside Oxford. Fine part of the country.'

'The gentleman was just telling us, Doctor,' Mrs Smith said, 'that he knows Mr Churchill.'

'Really? I used to know a nephew of his, but we've lost touch. Never had the privilege of meeting the great man, though.'

'And not only Mr Churchill,' Mrs Smith went on. 'He knows Mr Eden and Lord Halifax.'

'Really?'

The doctor's eyes examined me closely. Before I could make an appropriate remark, however, Mr Andrews said to the doctor:
'The gentleman was telling us that before the war he was involved in foreign affairs.'

'Indeed?'

The doctor went on studying me for several seconds, then he regained his cheerful manner and asked:
'Touring around for pleasure?'

'Mainly,' I said, and gave a small laugh.

'Plenty of nice country around here.' Then he turned to talk to Mr Andrews about something he had borrowed and had not yet returned.

For a short time, I was no longer the centre of attention and I was able to remain silent. Then, at an appropriate moment, I rose to my feet and said:
'Please excuse me. It has been a most enjoyable evening, but I am really very tired.'

Mrs Smith and a few others tried to persuade me to stay, while Doctor Carlisle studied me closely. Eventually, however, I began to make my way around the table. To my embarrassment, everyone in the room, including Doctor Carlisle, rose to their feet. I thanked everybody again for their kindness and good company. I had almost left the room when the doctor's voice caused me to stop at the door.

'Mr Stevens, I have to go to Stanbury first thing in the morning. I'd be happy to give you a lift to your car. It will save you the walk. And we can pick up a can of petrol on the way.'

'That's 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, thank you.'

There was another exchange of goodnights, and I was at last allowed to withdraw to my room.

Remains of the day

2021-06-14T13:02:11.699Z

by Kazuo Ishiguro

Chapter twelve - Miss Kenton's Aunt

Over the following weeks, Miss Kenton suggested several times that we start meeting again over cocoa in the evenings. I have often wondered whether things would have happened differently if I had agreed. It seems clear to me now that my small decision to stop our evening meetings was, in fact, another important turning point in our relationship.

But, I suppose, if one keeps searching one's past for 'turning points', one will start seeing them everywhere. Perhaps the most important 'turning point' of all was neither of the two incidents I have just described. Perhaps it was my meeting with Miss Kenton in the dining room soon after she had heard of her aunt's death.

News of the death had arrived some hours earlier. Indeed, I had handed the letter to Miss Kenton myself. I had stepped inside her room for a brief moment to discuss a professional matter, and she had opened the letter while we sat at her table, talking. She suddenly became very still, but she showed no emotion as she read the letter through at least twice. Then she put the letter carefully back in its envelope and looked across the table at me.

'It is from Mrs Johnson, a companion of my aunt. She says my aunt died the day before yesterday. The funeral takes place tomorrow. I would be grateful if I could have the day off, Mr Stevens.'

'I am sure that can be arranged, Miss Kenton.'

'Thank you, Mr Stevens. Forgive me, but perhaps I may have a few moments alone.'

'Of course, Miss Kenton.'

I made my exit but, just after I had left her room, I realized that I had not offered her my condolences. Her aunt had been like a mother to her, and her death must have come as a terrible shock. I paused outside her door in the corridor, wondering if I should go back and say a few words. But then it occurred to me that she might prefer to be alone with her private grief. I hesitated for several minutes outside her door. Eventually, however, I decided that it would be best to express my condolences later, and I continued on my way.

I thought about Miss Kenton all morning, wondering how I could help her in her time of grief, but I did not see her again until the afternoon. I was busy with a task in the hall when I heard her footsteps entering the dining room. I waited for a couple of minutes, then followed her in.

'Ah, Miss Kenton,' I said. 'How are you this afternoon?'

'Quite well, thank you, Mr Stevens.'

'Is everything in order?'

'Yes, thank you.'

'I was wondering about the new members of staff. Have you been experiencing any problems with them?' I gave a small laugh. 'There are often problems when so many new people join the staff at once.'

'Thank you, Mr Stevens, but the new girls are very satisfactory.'

'You don't think that there should be any changes to the present staff plan?'

'I don't think so, Mr Stevens. However, if I change my view on this, I will let you know immediately.'

She turned her attention back to her work and, for a moment, I thought about leaving the dining room. In fact, I actually took a few steps towards the doorway, but then I turned to her again and said:
'So, Miss Kenton. The new members of staff are making good progress, you say?'

'They are both doing very well, I assure you.'

'Ah, that is good to hear.' I gave another short laugh. 'I was only wondering because neither girl has previous experience of working in a house of this size.'

'Indeed, Mr Stevens.'

I watched her while she worked, waiting to see if she would say anything more. When, after several moments, it became clear that she was not going to speak, I said:
'There is actually something that I would like to say, Miss Kenton.'

Miss Kenton glanced over her shoulder in my direction, but continued working.

'I have noticed that there has been a slight fall in standards recently, Miss Kenton. One or two errors have been made. I do feel that you need to pay a little more attention to the new members of staff.'

'Whatever do you mean, Mr Stevens?'
'I myself like to pay extra attention to things whenever there are new staff members. I check everything, and see how they behave with other members of staff. I regret to say this, Miss Kenton, but I believe you have been a little careless in the matter.'

For a second, Miss Kenton looked confused. Then she turned towards me, and a certain strain was visible in her face.
'I beg your pardon, Mr Stevens?'

'For instance, Miss Kenton, I have noticed that the dishes are not being put back correctly on the shelves in the kitchen.'

'Indeed, Mr Stevens?'

'Yes, Miss Kenton. Furthermore, that little corner outside the breakfast room has not been dusted for some time. And there are one or two other small things I could mention.'

'You have made your point, Mr Stevens. I will, as you suggest, check the work of the new maids.'

'It is not like you to be so forgetful, Miss Kenton.'

Miss Kenton looked away from me with a look of confusion on her face. She looked more tired than upset. Then she suddenly turned away from her work, said, 'Please excuse me, Mr Stevens,' and left the room.

But it is pointless now to wish that particular incidents had ended differently. Naturally, when one looks back on moments like this, they may indeed seem to be 'turning points'. But of course, at that time, these things did not seem so important. There seemed to be a never-ending number of days, months and years ahead - plenty of time in which to sort out the small problems that existed between Miss Kenton and me. There was nothing at the time to indicate that small incidents like these would, in the end, be responsible for destroying whole dreams.

Remains of the day

2021-06-11T10:38:15.403Z

by Kazuo Ishiguro

Chapter eleven - Secrets

When I said earlier that this evening's events had been extremely difficult, I was not only referring to the fact that I had had to walk for half an hour in complete darkness across muddy fields. In many ways, what occurred during supper with Mr and Mrs Taylor and their neighbours was even worse than that. After supper, it was a great relief for me to come up to this room and to be alone with my thoughts and my memories.

I have recently been spending more and more time thinking about the old days at Darlington Hall. Since I received the letter from Miss Kenton, I have tried to understand what happened to our relationship. We had developed a fine professional understanding over many years. Then, in 1935 or 1936, things started to go wrong between us. By the end of this period, we had even abandoned our routine cup of cocoa together at the end of the day. But, despite all the time I have spent thinking about this, I have never been able to decide the exact moment when things between us began to change.

1935-36

One important turning point in our relationship might have been the evening when Miss Kenton came uninvited into my office. I cannot remember now why she came.

However, I do clearly remember her words:
'Mr Stevens, your room looks even worse at night than it does in the day. That electric bulb isn't bright enough. You'll ruin your eyes trying to read by that light.'

'It is perfectly comfortable, thank you, Miss Kenton.'

'Really, Mr Stevens. This room looks like a prison cell.'

I did not reply to this. I continued with my reading, waiting for Miss Kenton to excuse herself and leave. But a few minutes later I was surprised to hear her voice again:
'I wonder what you are reading there, Mr Stevens.'

'Simply a book, Miss Kenton.'

'But what sort of book?'

I looked up and saw Miss Kenton walking towards me. I shut the book and rose to my feet.

'Really, Miss Kenton,' I said, holding the book close to me, 'this is my own private time. I must ask you not to disturb me like this.'

'But why are you so shy about your book, Mr Stevens? Is it something embarrassing? A naughty book, perhaps?'

'There are no "naughty" books - as you call them - on his lordship's shelves.'

'Then you have no reason to be shy, Mr Stevens. So you can let me see what you are reading.'

'Miss Kenton, I must ask you to leave me alone. I do not have much free time for myself, and you are disturbing the little free time that I have.'

But Miss Kenton continued to advance. I was tempted for a moment to lock the book away in my desk, but this seemed over-dramatic. I took a few steps back.

'Please show me the book,' Miss Kenton insisted. 'Then I promise I will leave you alone to your reading.'

'The book is not important, Miss Kenton,' I replied. 'But I do object to this interruption of my private time.'

She continued to smile playfully. 'Perhaps, Mr Stevens, the book is so naughty that you want to protect me from its shocking influence?'

She was now standing in front of me, and my back was pressed against the wall. Then suddenly there was a peculiar change in the atmosphere. I am afraid it is not easy to describe what I mean by this. I can only say that everything around us suddenly became very still. Miss Kenton's playful smile disappeared and there was a sudden seriousness in her expression. She seemed to be almost frightened of something.

'Please, Mr Stevens. Let me see your book.'

She reached forward and began gently to release the book from my grip. I judged it best to look away while she did this. However, because her face was so close to mine, I had to twist my head away from her at a very unnatural angle. Miss Kenton continued to lift my fingers off the book - one at a time - until finally I heard her say:
'Mr Stevens, this book isn't naughty at all. It's simply a love story.'

At these words, I decided that I could stand no more. I cannot remember exactly what I said, but I remember showing Miss Kenton firmly out of the office.

Perhaps I should explain here something about the book I was reading. It is true, it was only a love story - one of many kept in the library and guest bedrooms for the entertainment of lady visitors. I agree that these love stories are usually very silly, and I rarely had the time or the desire to read any of them from cover to cover. But I had a simple reason for reading these books: it was an efficient way of developing my command of the English language.

In my opinion, it is extremely important for a butler to have a good accent and command of language, and I have always considered it my duty to develop them as much as I could. One way of doing this is to read a few pages of a well-written book whenever one has a spare moment. Love stories are, in my opinion, especially suitable for developing one's command of language. The characters speak in an elegant way, which is of great practical value to me. A more serious book may improve one's mind, but would not develop one's ability to hold normal conversations with ladies and gentlemen.

But I am moving away from the incident with Miss Kenton in my office. It brought to my attention something that I had not realized before: the fact that things between Miss Kenton and myself had gradually become, over a period of many months, too familiar. After I had shown Miss Kenton from my office, I decided that we had to return to a more professional relationship in future.

This was not, however, the only incident between Miss Kenton and myself that led to the great changes in our relationship. There were other equally important developments that might explain what took place later. For example, there was the matter of Miss Kenton's free days.

***
Until about a month before the incident with my book, Miss Kenton's free days had followed a regular pattern. Every six weeks she would take two days off to visit her aunt in Southampton. Apart from this, she would follow my example of only taking days off if we were going through a quiet time.

But then the pattern changed. She suddenly began to use all her free time, and she disappeared regularly from the house without saying where she was going. Of course, she never took more time than she was allowed, so I felt it was not my business to ask her about her little trips. But I suppose this change in her routine did worry me a little, for I remember talking about it to Mr Graham. He was a regular visitor to our house because he was the butler to Sir James Chambers, an old friend of Lord Darlington's.

I had not intended to talk to Mr Graham about Miss Kenton. I had only mentioned that the housekeeper had been 'a little moody' recently. I was therefore rather surprised when Mr Graham nodded, leaned towards me and said:
'I'd been wondering how much longer it would be.' When I asked him what he meant, Mr Graham explained: 'How old is Miss Kenton now? Thirty-three? Thirty-four? She has missed her best mothering years, but it's not too late yet.'

'Miss Kenton,' I assured him, 'is a devoted professional. I know that she has no wish for a family.'

But Mr Graham smiled and shook his head, saying: 'Never believe a housekeeper who tells you she doesn't want a family. You and I have known at least a dozen housekeepers who said they didn't want families, then got married and left the profession.'

I could not accept Mr Graham's theory at first. Afterwards, however, I must admit that I began to suspect that Miss Kenton had an admirer. There were little signs which seemed to support Mr Graham's theory. For instance, I noticed that Miss Kenton had started to receive letters about once a week. I also noticed sudden changes in her general mood which I had not noticed before. Sometimes she became extremely cheerful for no apparent reason. I do not know why, but this alarmed me more than the times when she suddenly became silent and depressed. She was always thoroughly professional, of course, and I had no reason to complain about her work. Nevertheless, it was my duty to think about the future of the house. I therefore asked her about her plans one evening while we were drinking our cocoa:
'Will you be going out again on Thursday, Miss Kenton? On your day off, I mean.'

Instead of being angry at my question, as I had expected, Miss Kenton actually seemed rather pleased to discuss this topic with me.

'Oh, Mr Stevens,' she said, 'it's just someone I once knew when I was at Granchester Lodge. In fact, he was the butler there at the time, but now he's left service altogether and he works for a local business. He somehow found out that I was here and started writing to me. In one of his letters a few weeks ago, he suggested that we meet occasionally in town.'

'I see, Miss Kenton. I'm sure it is a good idea to leave the house at times.'

Miss Kenton agreed, and there was a short silence. Then she went on:

'I remember when he was butler at Granchester Lodge, he had very ambitious ideas. I'm sure he planned, one day, to become butler of a house like this. Oh, but when I think of some of his methods! I'm not surprised that he never progressed in his career.'

I gave a small laugh. 'At these higher levels, Miss Kenton, the profession is not for everybody. Without certain qualities, a butler will simply not progress beyond a certain point.'

Miss Kenton seemed to consider this for a moment, then said: 'It occurs to me, Mr Stevens, that you are a contented man. You are at the top of your profession. I really cannot imagine what more you might wish for in life.'

I could think of no immediate response to this. There was an awkward silence, during which Miss Kenton stared down into her cocoa. In the end, after some consideration, I said:

'I will not be perfectly content, Miss Kenton, until I have done everything I can to help his lordship through the great tasks that he has set himself. Only when his lordship's work is complete, Miss Kenton, will I be able to call myself a contented man.'

She may have been a little puzzled by my words, or perhaps in some way they displeased her, for her mood suddenly seemed to change. Our conversation rapidly lost its personal tone and became more formal.

Not long after this, we stopped having meetings over cocoa in her room. In fact, I can remember our last cocoa together very clearly. I was discussing with her the complicated plans I had made for a weekend gathering of important people from Scotland. When I had been talking for a while, I realized that Miss Kenton was contributing very little to our conversation. It was obvious that she was thinking about something else. I did, from time to time, stop talking in order to ask her:

'Do you understand, Miss Kenton?' Then her attention would briefly return, before floating away again a few seconds later. After several more minutes of this, I finally said to her:

'I'm sorry, Miss Kenton, but I can see no reason to continue our conversation. You do not seem to appreciate the importance of this discussion.'

'I'm sorry, Mr Stevens,' she said, sitting up a little. 'It's just that I'm rather tired this evening.'

'You are increasingly tired now, Miss Kenton. You never used to make tiredness your excuse.'

To my amazement, Miss Kenton responded to this with sudden anger:
'Mr Stevens, I have had a very busy week. I am very, very tired, Mr Stevens. Can you not understand that?'

I decided not to enter into an argument with her. I paused for a moment before saying quite calmly:

'If that is how you feel about it, Miss Kenton, there is no need for us to continue with these evening meetings. I had no idea how inconvenient they had become to you.'

'Mr Stevens, I only said that I was tired tonight.'

'No, no, Miss Kenton, it is perfectly understandable. There are many other ways for us to communicate with each other without having to meet every evening.'

Miss Kenton made more protests, but she could not change my mind. There was no point in continuing our evening meetings if she was always too tired to say anything.

'May I suggest,' I said finally, 'that in future we communicate important information to each other during the working day. If we are unable to find each other, I suggest that we leave written messages. Now, Miss Kenton, I apologize for keeping you up so long. Thank you for the cocoa.'

Remains of the day

2021-06-08T23:58:21.995Z

by Kazuo Ishiguro

Chapter ten - A Lonely Hill

September 1956

I have, it seems, become rather lost in these old memories. This was never my intention. But thinking about the past has at least helped me to forget the events of this evening. For, I have to admit, these last few hours have been extremely difficult for me.

I am now staying in an upstairs room of a small cottage in the tiny village of Moscombe in Devon. It belongs to a retired couple called Mr and Mrs Taylor. It is very kind of the Taylors to allow me to stay in this room. Mrs Taylor has not only made the bed for me, she has tidied and cleaned the room, too. Although I have repeatedly offered to pay for the room, they have refused to accept a penny.

I am staying in this cottage because I made one foolish, annoyingly simple, mistake. I had forgotten to check the petrol. It is true, I had been thinking about other things just before the car stopped. I had planned to stay in the town of Tavistock, but I could not find a room anywhere because of an agricultural fair. After I had tried several inns and guest houses, one landlady suggested that I should drive to a roadside inn which belonged to a relative of hers.

She gave me thorough directions, which had seemed clear enough at the time, but I was unable to find this roadside inn. Instead, after about fifteen minutes, I was driving along a misty road that curved across wild, open land. To my left, I could see the last red light of the sunset. Through the mist, I could see the distant shape of an occasional farm building. Apart from these, there was no sign of civilization.

I turned the Ford round and drove back, trying to find a road I had passed earlier. After some time I managed to find it, but I was still lost. This new road was even more isolated than the one I had just left. I drove in near-darkness between high hedges, then the road began to climb steeply. By now, I had given up hope of finding the roadside inn. I decided to drive on until I reached the next town or village. Halfway up the hill, however, the engine made a strange noise, and I noticed for the first time that the petrol tank was empty.

The Ford continued to climb for several more metres, then stopped. When I got out of the car, it was almost completely dark. I was standing on a steep road bordered by trees and hedges. Further up the hill I could see, through a break in the hedges, the shape of a wooden gate against the sky. I made my way up towards this gate, hoping to find a farmhouse or something. I was disappointed to find, however, that instead of a farmhouse there was just open land.

I stopped at the gate and stared across the fields. The land sloped downwards about twenty metres from the gate and disappeared into shadow. About two kilometres further ahead, the land rose into sight again, and I could see the distant shape of a church. Around the church there were small clouds of white smoke rising from chimneys.

I admit that I felt, at that moment, a little discouraged, but I tried to be positive. The situation was not absolutely desperate, I told myself. The Ford was not damaged, simply out of fuel. It would take me about half an hour to walk across the fields to the village. When I was there, I was sure to find accommodation and a can of petrol from somewhere. Nevertheless, despite these positive thoughts, I did not feel happy up there on that lonely hill, looking over the gate through the mist and darkness at the lights of a distant village.

After returning to the Ford to collect my case and a bicycle lamp, I searched for a footpath that might take me to the village. I was, however, unable to find one, so I had to climb over the gate and walk across the fields. The journey was not as bad as I had imagined. It consisted of a series of fields, each one muddier than the last. The worst thing was when I tore the shoulder of my jacket while squeezing through a small gap in one of the hedges.

Eventually I discovered a path which led down into the village. On my way along this path I met Mr Taylor. He touched his cap when he saw me with my torn clothes, muddy shoes, bicycle lamp and case. He then asked if I needed any help. When I explained my situation to him, Mr Taylor shook his head thoughtfully and said:
'I'm afraid there's no inn in our village, sir. But if you don't mind something less comfortable, my wife and I could offer you a room and a bed for the night. It's nothing special. It used to be our son's room before he went to live in Exeter.'

I protested that I did not wish to cause him and his wife so much inconvenience, but he paid no attention and said:
'It would be an honour to have you, sir. We don't get gentlemen like you passing through Moscombe very often. Besides, sir, I don't know what else you could do at this hour.'

Khamdambek Atajanov

Muhim e'lon!

Remains of the day

Chapter eighteen - The Best Part of the Day

Remains of the day

Chapter seventeen - Old Friends

September 1956

Remains of the day

Chapter sixteen - Events of International Significance

Remains of the day

Chapter fifteen - The Rose Garden Hotel1956

Remains of the day

Chapter fourteen - Dignity

Remains of the day

Chapter thirteen - A Difficult Evening

Remains of the day

Chapter twelve - Miss Kenton's Aunt

Remains of the day

Chapter eleven - Secrets

Remains of the day

Chapter ten - A Lonely Hill

Chapter fifteen - The Rose Garden Hotel
1956