How strange it was that no birds were piping in the trees over the wall.

A change of weather must be imminent.

But what did the weather matter to him?
He would rather think of Marcolina, of the ecstasy he had enjoyed in her arms, and for which he was now to pay dear.

Dear?
Cheap enough! A few years of an old man's life hi penury and obscurity.

What was there left for him to do in the world?
To poison Bragadino?
Was it worth the trouble?
Nothing was worth the trouble.