Summary:

The only trick is to have no fear, and even less fear than that the more trouble one is in. Ilya cannot teach that to a man who has directed his energies into becoming, not like a saint, but like a painting of a saint, all dripping in symbolism: the way the robe drapes here, yes, that is on purpose, and the angle of the light, the patron’s face in the crowd, the instrument of the martyrdom in his hand and the fruit in the bowl on the table, all arranged except when—