For almost nine years, while I listened to the Manichaeans in my spiritual wanderings, I waited anxiously for the arrival of this same Faustus.

When he arrived, I found in him a nice man, with pleasant speech; his chatter about the usual Manichean theories sounded much sweeter. What, however, did this most elegant cupbearer bring to my thirsty lips in the precious goblet? My ears were already satiated with such speeches: they did not seem to me the best because they were better spoken; true because they were eloquent; The soul did not seem wise, because the orator's expression is proper, and the expressions are refined. The people who promised me Faustus were not good judges. He seemed to them a sage only because he delighted them with his speech.

I have known another breed of people to whom the truth itself seems suspicious, and they will not rest on it if it is presented in an elegant and lengthy speech. But Thou hast instructed me, O Lord, in a wondrous and secret manner: I believe that it was Thou who instructed me, for in this was the truth, and besides Thee there is no other teacher of the truth, wherever and whence its light may come. I have learned from You that eloquent utterances should not appear to be true because they are eloquent, and clumsy words that fall off the tongue should not appear false because they are awkward, and vice versa: artless speech will not be true, and brilliant speech will not be false. Wise and foolish are like food, useful or harmful, and words, refined and simple, are dishes, urban and rural, in which both foods can be served.

The greed with which I had waited for this man for so long found satisfaction in the lively course of his discourse, and in the proper verbal garb in which he so easily clothed his thoughts. I enjoyed myself with many, and praised and extolled him even more than many, but I was vexed that I could not, in the crowd of listeners, offer him questions that troubled me, and share them, exchanging thoughts in friendly conversation. When at last the opportunity presented itself, I took possession of him with my friends at a time when such mutual discussion was quite appropriate, and put to him some of the questions that troubled me. First of all, I saw a man who knew no liberal sciences at all, except grammar, and even then in the most ordinary volume. And as he had read a few of Cicero's speeches, very few of Seneca's books, some of the poets and Manichaeans whose works were well written in Latin, and as to this was added a daily practice of chatter, all this created his eloquence, which was made all the more agreeable and seductive by his clever ingenuity and natural charm. Are my memories correct, O Lord my God? Judge of my conscience? My heart and my memory are open to Thee; Thou hast already led me in the deep mystery of Thy Providence, and hast turned my face to my shameful errors, so that I may see them and hate them.

After Faustus's complete ignorance of the sciences of which I revered him as a great expert became clear to me, I began to despair that he could explain and solve the questions that troubled me. Understanding nothing of them, he could still possess the truth of the faith if he had not been a Manichaean. Their books are full of endless fables about the heavens and stars, about the sun and the moon: I no longer expected what I so desired, namely, that he would be able to compare them with the calculations I had read in other books, to explain to me in detail whether everything is as it is written in the Manichaeans, or at least to show it. that their proofs are not inferior in force to others. When I invited him to consider and discuss these matters, he modestly did not dare to take on such a burden. He knew what he didn't know, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. He was not one of those many chatterboxes whom I had to endure, and who, when they tried to teach me, could say nothing. Faustus "had no right" in relation to You, but was very cautious in relation to Himself. He was not at all ignorant of his ignorance, and he did not want to rush headlong into an argument and find himself in a dead end: there was nowhere to go, and it was difficult to return. For this, I liked it even more. A humble confession is more beautiful than the knowledge I wanted to obtain; but in all difficult and delicate questions – I saw this – he behaved invariably modestly.

The zeal with which I threw myself at Mani's writings cooled; I despaired still more in other teachers after the famous Faustus had proved so ignorant of many questions that troubled me. I continued my acquaintance with him, because he was passionately fond of literature, and I, then a Carthaginian rhetorician, taught it to young men. I read books with him, either which he had heard about and wanted to read, or which I thought were suitable for that mindset. Acquaintance with this man undermined all my efforts to advance in this sect; True, I did not depart from them altogether, but I behaved like a man who, not yet finding anything better than the teaching into which he had once blindly rushed, decided for the time being to do so, and to be content with this, waiting to see if by chance something would come to light on which to make his choice.

Thus, Faustus, who for many turned out to be the "snare of death", began, unwittingly and unwittingly, to unravel the one into which I had fallen. Thy hand, O Lord, in the inscrutability of Thy Providence, did not leave my soul. My mother sacrificed to Thee for me tears of blood, which flowed from her heart day and night, and Thou didst treat me in a wondrous way. You, O Lord, have done this to me, for "the Lord strengthens a man's feet, and He is pleased with his way." And who will give us salvation but Thy hand, which renews Thy creation?

Your hand was that I was persuaded to move to Rome and teach there better what I taught in Carthage. I will not fail to confess to You what prompted me to make this move: the depth in which You hide and Your mercy, which is always with us, are worthy of reflection and praise.

I did not decide to go to Rome because my friends, who persuaded me, promised me more earnings and a more prominent place, although both of these attracted me at that time; the main and almost the only reason was the story that the young students behaved more calmly in Rome, that they were restrained by a strict and definite discipline, and that they did not dare to break into the premises of a strange teacher in a bold and disorderly manner: access to him in the school was generally open only with his permission. In Carthage, on the contrary, dissoluteness reigns among the students, which knows no restrainedness. They shamelessly break into the school and, as if maddened, violate the order established by the teacher for the benefit of learning. With amazing stupidity they inflict a thousand offenses, for which they should be punished according to the law, but custom takes them under its protection. They are all the more miserable because they do, as something permissible, actions that will never be permitted by Thy eternal law; they consider themselves to be completely unpunished, but they are punished by blindness to their own behavior; they will suffer incomparably worse than what they do. When I was studying, I did not want to belong to this crowd; having become a teacher, he was forced to endure it around him. That's why I wanted to go to a place where, according to the stories of all knowledgeable people, there was nothing like it. In fact, it was "Thou my hope and my portion in the land of the living" that prompted me, for the salvation of my soul, to change my place on earth: in Carthage Thou didst whip me in order to snatch me from there; in Rome he set baits to attract them – he acted through people who loved this life of death; here they committed madness, there they poured empty promises; to direct my steps, Thou hast secretly taken advantage of them and my corruption. Those who disturbed my peace were blinded by a vile frenzy; Those who called to others were wise in an earthly way. And I, who hated true suffering here, strove there – to imaginary happiness.

Thou knew, O Lord, why I left Carthage and went to Rome, but thou didst not give any sign of it either to me or to my mother, who wept bitterly over my departure and accompanied me all the way to the sea. She clung to me tightly, wishing either to bring me back or to go with me, but I deceived her into thinking that I wanted to stay with my friend until he sailed away with the wind up.

I lied to my mother – and such a mother! – and eluded her. And this Thou hast mercifully forgiven me, preserving me, full of filth and filth, from the waters of the sea, and bringing me to the water of Thy grace, having washed myself, I dried up the streams of my mother's tears, with which she daily watered the earth before Thee, weeping for me. She refused to return without me, and I had difficulty in persuading her to spend the night in the chapel of St. Cyprian, near our ship. And that night I secretly departed, but she stayed, praying and crying. What did she ask Thee, O Lord, for with such tears? That Thou shouldst not let me sail? But you, in the depths of Your counsels, hearing her main desire, did not care about what she asked then: that you may make of me what she always asked. The wind blew and filled our sails and hid from our eyes the shore, where in the morning, mad with pain, she filled Thy ears with complaints and moans, which Thou didst despise: Thou didst draw me to the voice of my passions to put an end to these passions, and she was whipped by the just lash of pain for her carnal anguish. She loved my presence like all mothers, only much more than many mothers, and did not know how much joy You were preparing for her by my absence. She did not know this, and therefore she wept and wailed, and in these torments the heritage of Eve was expressed in her: in lamentations she sought that which in lamentations she had begotten. And yet, after accusing me of deceit and cruelty, she again turned to prayers for me and returned to her usual life; I arrived in Rome.

And now a bodily illness overtook me with its whip; I was already going to hell, taking with me all the sins I had committed before Thee, before myself, and before others, a great and heavy link added to the fetters of original sin, by which "we all die in Adam." Thou hast not yet forgiven me anything in Christ, for he has not yet "abolished" on his cross the "enmity" which I had with Thee for my sins. Could this crucified ghost in whom I believed abolish it? As much as His bodily death seemed to me, so real was the death of my soul, and as real was His bodily death, so imaginary was the life of my soul, which did not believe in His death.

My fever grew heavier; I went away and went to perdition. Where would I have gone if I had gone then? Of course, according to Thy just order, only into fire and torment worthy of my works. And the mother did not know this, but prayed in her absence. But you, being present everywhere, heard her where she was, and took pity on me where I was: bodily health returned to me, still sick with my sacrilegious heart. I did not want to accept Your Baptism, even in such danger; I was a better boy when I demanded of my pious mother that she baptize me; I have already remembered this when I confessed to You. I grew up to my shame and, being a fool, laughed at Thy healing, but Thou didst not allow me, such a man, to die a double death. If such a wound had struck my mother's heart, she would never have recovered. I cannot express enough how much she loved me; she bore me in her soul with much greater anxiety than she once carried in her body.

I do not know how she could recover if, in the very depths of her love, she had been pierced by such a death of mine. Where were the fervent, so frequent, uninterrupted prayers? Only You. Would You, Lord of mercy, "despise the contrite and humble heart" of a pure humble widow, who diligently did almsgiving, willingly served Your servants, did not miss a single day so as not to offer sacrifice at Your altar; twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, she invariably came to Thy church, not for idle gossip and old woman's chatter, but to hear Thee in Thy words and to be heard by Thee in her prayers. Thus did Thy grace create her. Would You have despised her with tears, would You have pushed her away, and would You not have given her help, when she asked Thee not for gold and silver, not for temporal and transient goods, but for the salvation of her son's soul? No, Lord, no. You were here, you heard it, and you did everything as you had predestined. It is impossible that Thou shouldst deceive her in those visions and answers of Thee, some of which I have mentioned, and others I have not mentioned, and which she kept with a faithful heart, and, praying continually, presented to Thee as Thy own obligation. And Thou hast vouchsafed, "for Thy mercy endureth for ever," to those to whom Thou forgivest all their debts, to be a debtor, bound to keep Thy promises.