unlawful? 

                          CHAPTER VII

     15.  "What shall I render unto the Lord"[55] for the fact 
that while my memory recalls these things my soul no longer fears 
them?  I will love thee, O Lord, and thank thee, and confess to 
thy name, because thou hast put away from me such wicked and evil 
deeds.  To thy grace I attribute it and to thy mercy, that thou 
hast melted away my sin as if it were ice.  To thy grace also I 
attribute whatsoever of evil I did _not_ commit -- for what might 
I not have done, loving sin as I did, just for the sake of 
sinning?  Yea, all the sins that I confess now to have been 
forgiven me, both those which I committed willfully and those 
which, by thy providence, I did not commit.  What man is there 
who, when reflecting upon his own infirmity, dares to ascribe his 
chastity and innocence to his own powers, so that he should love 
thee less -- as if he were in less need of thy mercy in which thou 
forgivest the transgressions of those that return to thee?  As for 
that man who, when called by thee, obeyed thy voice and shunned 
those things which he here reads of me as I recall and confess 
them of myself, let him not despise me -- for I, who was sick, 
have been healed by the same Physician by whose aid it was that he 
did not fall sick, or rather was less sick than I.  And for this 
let him love thee just as much -- indeed, all the more -- since he 
sees me restored from such a great weakness of sin by the selfsame 
Saviour by whom he sees himself preserved from such a weakness.

                         CHAPTER VIII

     16.  What profit did I, a wretched one, receive from those 
things which, when I remember them now, cause me shame -- above 
all, from that theft, which I loved only for the theft's sake?  
And, as the theft itself was nothing, I was all the more wretched 
in that I loved it so.  Yet by myself alone I would not have done 
it -- I still recall how I felt about this then -- I could not 
have done it alone.  I loved it then because of the companionship 
of my accomplices with whom I did it.  I did not, therefore, love 
the theft alone -- yet, indeed, it was only the theft that I 
loved, for the companionship was nothing.  What is this paradox?  
Who is it that can explain it to me but God, who illumines my 
heart and searches out the dark corners thereof?  What is it that 
has prompted my mind to inquire about it, to discuss and to 
reflect upon all this?  For had I at that time loved the pears 
that I stole and wished to enjoy them, I might have done so alone, 
if I could have been satisfied with the mere act of theft by which 
my pleasure was served.  Nor did I need to have that itching of my 
own passions inflamed by the encouragement of my accomplices.  But 
since the pleasure I got was not from the pears, it was in the 
crime itself, enhanced by the companionship of my fellow sinners.

                          CHAPTER IX

     17.  By what passion, then, was I animated?  It was 
undoubtedly depraved and a great misfortune for me to feel it.  
But still, what was it?  "Who can understand his errors?"[56]

     We laughed because our hearts were tickled at the thought of 
deceiving the owners, who had no idea of what we were doing and 
would have strenuously objected.  Yet, again, why did I find such 
delight in doing this which I would not have done alone?  Is it 
that no one readily laughs alone?  No one does so readily; but 
still sometimes, when men are by themselves and no one else is 
about, a fit of laughter will overcome them when something very 
droll presents itself to their sense or mind.  Yet alone I would 
not have done it -- alone I could not have done it at all.

     Behold, my God, the lively review of my soul's career is laid 
bare before thee.  I would not have committed that theft alone.  
My pleasure in it was not what I stole but, rather, the act of 
stealing.  Nor would I have enjoyed doing it alone -- indeed I 
would not have done it!  O friendship all unfriendly!  You strange 
seducer of the soul, who hungers for mischief from impulses of 
mirth and wantonness, who craves another's loss without any desire 
for one's own profit or revenge -- so that, when they say, "Let's 
go, let's do it," we are ashamed not to be shameless.

                           CHAPTER X

     18.  Who can unravel such a twisted and tangled knottiness?  
It is unclean.  I hate to reflect upon it.  I hate to look on it.  
But I do long for thee, O Righteousness and Innocence, so 
beautiful and comely to all virtuous eyes -- I long for thee with 
an insatiable satiety.  With thee is perfect rest, and life 
unchanging.  He who enters into thee enters into the joy of his 
Lord,[57] and shall have no fear and shall achieve excellence in 
the Excellent.  I fell away from thee, O my God, and in my youth I 
wandered too far from thee, my true support.  And I became to 
myself a wasteland.

                          BOOK THREE

     The story of his student days in Carthage, his discovery of 
Cicero's  Hortensius, the enkindling of his philosophical 
interest, his infatuation with the Manichean heresy, and his 
mother's dream which foretold his eventual return to the true 
faith and to God.  

                           CHAPTER I