So saying, he went in search of his books, and I took this opportunity of asking my friend if there was any other person who talked in this manner? “Is this so strange to you?” he replied. “You may depend upon it that neither the fathers, nor the popes, nor councils, nor Scripture, nor any book of devotion, employ such language; but if you wish casuists and modern schoolmen, he will bring you a goodly number of them on his side.” “O! but I care not a fig about these authors, if they are contrary to tradition,” I said. “You are right,” he replied. As he spoke, the good father entered the room, laden with books; and presenting to me the first that came to hand, “Read that,” he said; “this is ‘The Summary of Sins,’ by Father Bauny[120]—the fifth edition too, you see, which shows that it is a good book.” “It is a pity, however,” whispered the Jansenist in my ear, “that this same book has been condemned at Rome, and by the bishops of France.” “Look at page 906,” said the father. I did so, and read as follows: “In order to sin and become culpable in the sight of God, it is necessary to know that the thing we wish to do is not good, or at least to doubt that it is—to fear or to judge that God takes no pleasure in the action which we contemplate, but forbids it; and in spite of this, to commit the deed, leap the fence, and transgress.” “This is a good commencement,” I remarked. “And yet,” said he, “mark how far envy will carry some people. It was on that very passage that M. Hallier, before he became one of our friends, bantered Father Bauny, by applying to him these words: _Ecce qui tollit peccata mundi_—‘Behold the man that taketh away the sins of the world!’” “Certainly,” said I, “according to Father Bauny, we may be said to behold a redemption of an entirely new description.” “Would you have a more authentic witness on the point?” added he. “Here is the book of Father Annat.[121] It is the last that he wrote against M. Arnauld. Turn up to page 34, where there is a dog’s ear, and read the lines which I have marked with pencil—they ought to be written in letters of gold.” I then read these words: “He that has no thought of God, nor of his sins, nor any apprehension (that is, as he explained it, any knowledge) of his obligation to exercise the acts of love to God or contrition, has no actual grace for exercising those acts; but it is equally true that he is guilty of no sin in omitting them, and that, if he is damned, it will not be as a punishment for that omission.” And a few lines below, he adds: “The same thing may be said of a culpable commission.” “You see,” said the monk, “how he speaks of sins of _omission_ and of _commission_. Nothing escapes him. What say you to that?”