What contributed still more to the ruin of Noor ad Deen's fortune, was his unwillingness to reckon with his steward; for whenever he brought in his accounts, he still sent him away without examining them: "Go, go," said he, "I trust wholly to your honesty; only take care to provide good entertainments for my friends."
"You are the master, sir," replied he, "and I but the steward; however, you would do well to think upon the proverb, 'He that spends much, and has but little, must at last insensibly be reduced to poverty.' You are not contented with keeping an extravagant table, but you must lavish away your estate with both hands: and were your coffers as large as mountains, they would not be sufficient to maintain you." "Begone," replied Noor ad Deen, "I want not your grave lessons; only take care to provide good eating and drinking, and trouble your head no farther about the rest."
In the meantime, Noor ad Deen's friends were constant guests at his table, and never failed to take advantage of the easiness of his temper. They praised and flattered him, extolling his most indifferent actions; but, above all, they took particular care to commend whatever belonged to him; and in this they found their account. "Sir," said one of them, "I came the other day by your estate that lies in such a place; nothing can be so magnificent or so handsomely furnished as your house; and the garden belonging to it is a paradise upon earth." "I am very glad it pleases you," replied Noor ad Deen: "bring me pen, ink, and paper; without more words, it is at your service; I make you a present of it." No sooner had others commended one of his houses, baths, or public buildings erected for the use of strangers, the yearly revenue of which was very considerable, than he immediately gave them away. The fair Persian could not forbear stating to him how much injury he did himself; but, instead of paying any regard to her remonstrances, he continued his extravagances, and the first opportunity that offered, squandered away the little he had left.
In short, Noor ad Deen did nothing for a whole year but feast and make merry, wasting and consuming, with the utmost prodigality, the great wealth that his predecessors, and the good vizier his father, had with so much pains and care acquired and preserved.
The year was but just expired, when a person one day knocked at the door of the hall, where he and his friends were at dinner together by themselves, having sent away the slaves, that they might enjoy the greater liberty.
One of his friends offered to rise; but Noor ad Deen stepping before him, opened the door himself. It was the steward; and Noor ad Deen, going a little out of the hall to know his business, left the door half open.
The friend that offered to rise from his seat, seeing it was the steward, and being curious to know what he had to say, placed himself between the hangings and the door, where he plainly overheard the steward's discourse to his master. "Sir," said he, "I ask a thousand pardons for coming to disturb you in the height of your pleasure; but what I have to say is of such importance, that I thought myself bound in duty to acquaint you with it. I am come, sir, to make up my last accounts, and to tell you, that what I all along foresaw, and have often warned you of, is at last come to pass. I have not the smallest piece left of all the sums I have received from you for your expenses; the other funds you assigned me are all exhausted. The farmers, and those that owe you rent, have made it so plainly appear to me, that you have assigned over to others what they held of you, that it is impossible for me to get any more from them on your account. Here are my books; if you please, examine them; and if you wish I should continue useful to you, assign me other funds, or else give me leave to quit your service." Noor ad Deen was so astonished at his statement, that he gave him no answer.
The friend who had been listening all this while, and had heard every syllable of what the steward said, immediately came in, and told the company what he had overheard. "It is your business, gentlemen," said he, "to make your use of this caution; for my part, I declare to you, this is the last visit I design ever to make Noor ad Deen." "Nay," replied they, "if matters go thus, we have as little business here as you; and for the future shall take care not to trouble him with our company."
Noor ad Deen returned presently after; notwithstanding all his efforts to appear gay to his guests, he could not so dissemble his concern, but they plainly perceived the truth of what they had heard. He was scarcely sat down in his place, when one of his friends arose: "Sir," said he, "I am sorry I cannot have the honour of keeping you company any longer; and therefore I hope you will excuse my rudeness in leaving you so soon." "What urgent affair," demanded Noor ad Deen, "obliges you to be going so soon?" "My wife, sir," he replied, "is brought to bed to-day; and upon such an occasion, you know a husband's company is always necessary." So making a very low bow, he went away. A minute afterwards a second took his leave, with another excuse. The rest did the same, one after another, till at last not one of the ten friends that had hitherto kept Noor ad Deen company remained.
As soon as they were gone, Noor ad Deen, little suspecting the resolution they had formed never to see him again, went directly to the fair Persian's apartment; to whom he related all the steward had told him, and seemed extremely concerned at the ill state of his affairs. "Sir," said the fair Persian, "allow me to say, you would never take my advice, but always managed your concerns after your own way, and now you see the fatal consequences. I find I was not mistaken, when I presaged to what a miserable condition you would bring yourself at last: but what afflicts me the more is, that at present you do not see the worst of your misfortunes. Whenever I presumed freely to remonstrate with you, 'Let us be merry,' you replied, 'and improve the time that Fortune offers us; perhaps she will not always be so prodigal of her favours:' but was I to blame in telling you, that we are ourselves the makers of our own fortunes by a prudent management of them? You would not hearken to me; and I was forced, however reluctantly, to let you go on."