She dates him as Judy, but he barely sees her as who she is. He wants Madeleine—can't help but want Madeleine—and starts transforming her, buying her the same tight gray suit she's hiding in the back of her closet, insisting that she bleach her hair and wear it in a twist. She resists, she quails, but he won't be denied—Stewart is good here, gazing slightly past her, his avuncular jaw sitting a little firmer. And she submits, too much in love to risk losing him, even though he's not in love with her, but with a shadow of herself, a dead woman who never really existed in the first place. And when her transformation is complete, Bernard Herrmann's melancholic score swells and the green sheen Hitchcock has established as the color of Madeleine overwhelms the screen and they kiss. They both have what they want, but it is hollow, ironic, based on a grievous lie.