[Oh, dear. Carrie's big eyelashes struggle to blink away the tears. You would think that it would be less of a problem with the short hair out of the way. Jeanne had not really been able to see with her face down there. She has her handkerchief with her, though, to wipe them away.

It is a woman's job to feel sadness, perhaps, and a man's job to feel pain. To not dwell on all the ramifications, and pick up the cross because it must be done, while Mother weeps. Like Reika, there is a bit of the prince in Jeanne.]

Please do not give up on life. If I must experience the trivialities of this world, then so be it as well for you. I consider it quite the feat that you survived our six months of confinement without being punished.