At last I became ashamed of my weakness.

The letter must be opened sooner or later.

Why not at once?
So as the bather who, for a considerable time has stood shivering on the bank, afraid to take the decisive plunge, suddenly takes it, I tore open the letter almost before I was aware.

I had no sooner done so than a paper fell out.

I examined it; it contained a lock of bright flaxen hair.