She's the one." And he experienced, almost simultaneously, two absolutely distinct sensations.
Of disappointment, first, for his unknown pleased him better.

Mme.
Chantelouve would never realize the ideal he had fashioned for himself, the tantalizing features, the agile, wild animal body, the melancholy and ardent bearing, which he had dreamed.

Indeed, the mere fact of knowing the unknown rendered her less desirable, more vulgar.
Accessibility killed the chimera.
At the same time he experienced a lively relief.

He might have been dealing with a hideous old crone, and Hyacinthe, as he immediately began to call her, was desirable.

Thirty-three at most, not pretty, but peculiar; blonde, slight and supple, with no hips, she seemed thin because she was small-boned.