Yes, why?
Joan of Arc could neither understand nor accept it.
Once, during a moment of leisure, she had asked this close friend why he had abandoned his privileged life, taken up a sword, and gone to war.
"Of course, it's because of the children. They are the untainted souls of this world. They deserve to be treated gently, rather than seeing war, distortion, misery, and death at first glance, as we did. Their smiles are what support us."
That was how the man had answered. A rare smile had even appeared on his perpetually gloomy face.
"I had none of those things in my childhood, so I hope they can have them, to make up for what I lacked."
Even with the bloody reality laid bare before her, Joan of Arc still could not believe that a soul who loved children and cherished such beautiful hopes could become a beast that mutilated young children.
"Gilles, what happened to you?"
Joan of Arc clenched her pearly teeth against her crimson lips and demanded angrily.
"Me? I'm fine! Better than ever before!"
Gilles de Rais seemed not to notice his friend's anger. He raised his arms and laughed delightedly, his muttering filled with intoxication and happiness beneath its strange tremor.
"Listen, the Lord is whispering in my ear. Faith has never been this close. He is answering me..."
"Tormenting lives and harming the innocent—you have fallen onto the path of evil. Wake up, Gilles!"
The Maid of Orléans looked at the lingering scenes of horror and darkness before her, then at her old friend's crazed, twisted face. The last traces of hope in her eyes gradually went out, forged into dim sorrow and blazing anger.
"No, no, no, Joan of Arc, my saintess. Be it blasphemy or praise, to God, both