He is, as he knows, little better than a pensioner in Count Orso's household.

He holds his lands on sufferance.
His faculties are paralyzed.

He is on the first smooth shoulder-slope of the cataract.

He knows that not only was his jealousy of his wife groundless, but it was forced by a spleenful pride.

What is there to do?
Nothing, save resignedly to prepare for his divorce from the conspiratrix Camilla and espousals with Michiella.