Who was to know what went on in a person's heart? A wise woman kept her own counsel.

She did not care about anything very much. Hope was gone. She existed that was all.

She had discovered that her love of knowing was not unnatural or sinful but the direct consequence of a God-given ability to reason.

Heed my words, daughter, if you ever mean to be happy: Never give yourself to a man.

This was the price for the the strange life she had chosen, but she had gone into it with eyes open, and there was no profit in regret.

Why, she wondered, do we always reserve our worst hatred for our own?

It was a child's awareness, never spoken or even fully acknowledged, but deeply felt.

Is it not lack of faith that leads men to fear the scrutiny of reason? If the destination is doubtful, than the path must be fraught with fear. A robust faith need not fear, for if God exists, then reason cannot help but lead us to Him. Cogito, ergo Deus est,'says St. Augustine, I think, therefore God is.

But she had known, better than anyone else, what demons he had faced, had known how hard he had fought to free himself from them. That he had lost the fight in the end made the struggle no less honorable.

There was always a way, when one knew what one wanted.

Shattered by the cumulative effect of so much horror and death, Joan was again afflicted by a crisis of faith. How could a good and benevolent God let such a thing happen? How could He so terribly afflict even children and babies, who were not guilty of any sin?