Letter
in sentence
2000 examples of Letter in a sentence
'But,' he said to himself, laying down his pen, 'the secret room in the post office will open my letter, and give you back the one you seek; no, gentlemen.'
He went and bought an enormous Bible from a Protestant bookseller, skilfully concealed Mathilde's
letter
in the boards, had it packed up with his own letter, and his parcel went off by the mail, addressed to one of Fouque's workmen, whose name was unknown to anybody in Paris.
'It is our turn, now,' he exclaimed, as he locked himself into his room, and flung off his coat:'What, Mademoiselle,' he wrote to Mathilde, 'it is Mademoiselle de La Mole who, by the hand of Arsene, her father's servant, transmits a
letter
couched in too seductive terms to a poor carpenter from the Jura, doubtless to play a trick upon his simplicity ...'And he transcribed the most unequivocal sentences from the
letter
he had received.
Mademoiselle de La Mole's
letter
had so flattered Julien's vanity that, while he laughed at what was happening to him, he had forgotten to think seriously of the advantages of departure.
He was extremely annoyed at this instance of his weakness, and had almost ceased to think of the incredible victory which had preceded this slight check when, about nine o'clock, Mademoiselle de La Mole appeared on the threshold of the library, flung him a letter, and fled.
The
letter
called for a definite answer with an arrogance which increased his inward gaiety.
This
letter
finished: 'The garden can serve me as a post office,' he thought, and made his way there.
This first floor stood so high, that, as he advanced beneath the lime-alley,
letter
in hand, Julien could not be seen from Mademoiselle de La Mole's window.
If they have decided to make a fool of me, to let myself be seen with a
letter
in my hand, is to play the enemy's game.'Norbert's room was immediately above his sister's, and if Julien emerged from the alley formed by the pleached branches of the limes, the Count and his friends would be able to follow his every movement.
Mademoiselle de La Mole appeared behind her closed window; he half showed her his letter; she bowed her head.
At once Julien ran up to his own room, and happened to meet, on the main staircase, the fair Mathilde, who snatched the
letter
with perfect composure and laughing eyes.
'What passion there was in the eyes of that poor Madame de Renal,' Julien said to himself, 'when, even after six months of intimate relations, she ventured to receive a
letter
from me!Never once, I am sure, did she look at me with a laugh in her eyes.'
At five o'clock, Julien received a third letter; it was flung at him from the library door.
He had made up his mind to go, and not even to answer the
letter.
There were still many hours to wait; in order to have something to do, Julien wrote to Fouque: 'My friend, open the enclosed
letter
only in case of accident, if you hear it said that something strange has befallen me.
By seven o'clock next morning he was installed in the library; he hoped that Mademoiselle de La Mole would deign to appear there; he had written her an endless
letter.
From a
Letter
to the AuthorThe Marquis sent for him; M. de La Mole seemed rejuvenated, there was a gleam in his eye.
You shall have a formal
letter
of introduction.
Reading a well-written love
letter
is a prude's supreme pleasure; it is a momentary relaxation.
'My first blunder,' he said to himself, as he was going downstairs; 'I must carry out the Prince's orders to the letter.'
Faithful to the
letter
to the plan of conduct dictated to him by Prince Korasoff, every evening he took his place as near as possible to the armchair occupied by Madame de Fervaques, but found it impossible to think of a word to say to her.
Julien saw a note at the foot of the first letter: 'Send No. 1 a week after the first meeting.'
He set to work at once to copy out this first love letter; it was a homily stuffed with phrases about virtue, and of a deadly dullness; Julien was fortunate in falling asleep over the second page.
This morning, he finished copying his
letter
almost with a laugh.
One hands the
letter
to the porter with a contrite air; profound melancholy in the gaze.
That young man must have seen the difference; he writes well; but I am much afraid that the request that I should enlighten him with my advice, which he makes in his letter, is in reality only a sentiment unaware of itself.
This evening, 'I am a galley slave,' he said to himself, as he entered it, with a vivacity long unfamiliar to him: 'let us hope that the second
letter
will be as boring as the first.'
Falling asleep while transcribing a sort of commentary on the Apocalypse, going next day to deliver a
letter
with a melancholy air, leaving his horse in the stable yard with the hope of catching a glimpse of Mathilde's gown, working, putting in an appearance in the evening at the Opera when Madame de Fervaques did not come to the Hotel de La Mole; such were the monotonous events of Julien's existence.
One morning, a
letter
was handed to Julien; he recognised the armorial bearings of Madame de Fervaques, and broke the seal with an eagerness which would have seemed quite impossible to him a few days earlier: it was only an invitation to dine.
And he thought incessantly of Madame de Renal as he copied an immensely long
letter
intended for the Marechale.
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