_Henri_ sought the material pleasures, which are always the same, and always result in emptiness. _Heinrich_ unceasingly pursued the course of ambition, which is ever renewed just as we believe we have reached the goal. Between the two Ottmar found nothing but satiety. He now had what he had so eagerly desired,--two lives, two natures, in one person. True, he could no longer suffer, but neither could he enjoy; he could neither love nor hate. _Henri's_ feelings were only instincts, and his thoughts the refinement of sensuality; to which _Heinrich_ sometimes lent a loftier language when in the presence of noble women, in whom his shallow frivolity would have excited only repugnance. Ottmar, as on the night of his delirium, fancied, with vain satisfaction, that he had been born again; but he had, in truth, only divided himself. It seemed to him as if he possessed a twofold nature, and must now enjoy life doubly. But the law of true humanity cannot be denied without rebuke. He had erred. Instead of two natures there were only two disjointed halves; instead of enjoying a double share, he enjoyed but half, for what pleased _Henri_ _Heinrich_ did not feel, and what _Heinrich_ obtained was useless to _Henri_. This was not yet clear to Ottmar. He only knew that the apparitions had given what he desired, and did not understand why he was not happy. He had not comprehended their sneers, like all who, in the impetuous whirl of life, hear the prophetic voices of their own breasts, and first understand them when their predictions begin to be fulfilled. In Paris, Ottmar gave free course to his inclinations, and for some time lived in intimate relations with Madame d'Anneaud. But the beautiful woman soon became wearisome to him, and he deserted her for a fairer face, for faith, as a matter of course, had become an impossibility to this nature.