Остаток дня / The Remains of the Day

Are these words to use about an ally you stood shoulder to shoulder with only a few years back?’

I am not sure now if I ever proceeded to knock; it is quite possible, given the alarming nature of what I heard, that I judged it best to withdraw altogether. In any case, I did not linger long enough – as I was obliged to explain to his lordship shortly afterwards – to hear anything that would give a clue as to M. Dupont’s attitude to Mr Lewis’s

remarks.

The next day, the discussions in the drawing room appeared to reach a new level of intensity and by lunch-time, the exchanges were becoming rather heated.

My impression was that utterances were being directed accusingly, and with increasing boldness, towards the armchair where M. Dupont sat fingering his beard, saying little. Whenever the conference adjourned, I noticed, as no doubt his lordship did with some concern, that Mr Lewis would quickly take M. Dupont away to some corner or other where they could confer quietly. Indeed, once, shortly after lunch, I recall I came upon the two gentlemen talking rather furtively just inside the library doorway, and it was my distinct impression they broke off their discussion upon my approach.

In the meantime, my father’s condition had grown neither better nor worse. As I understood, he was asleep for much of the time, and indeed, I found him so on the few occasions I had a spare moment to ascend to that little attic room. I did not then have a chance actually to converse with him until that second evening after the return of his illness.

On that occasion, too, my father was sleeping when I entered. But the chambermaid Miss Kenton had left in attendance stood up upon seeing me and began to shake my father’s shoulder.

‘Foolish girl!’ I exclaimed. ‘What do you think you are doing?’

‘Mr Stevens said to wake him if you returned, sir.’

‘Let him sleep. It’s exhaustion that’s made him ill.’

‘He said I had to, sir,’ the girl said, and again shook my father’s shoulder.

My father opened his eyes, turned his head a little on the pillow, and looked at me.

‘I hope Father is feeling better now,’ I said.

He went on gazing at me for a moment, then asked:

‘Everything in hand downstairs?’

The situation is rather volatile. It is just after six o’clock, so Father can well imagine the atmosphere in the kitchen at this moment.’

An impatient look crossed my father’s face.

‘But is everything in hand?’ he said again.