On other occasions, Brandt's incredible levity inspired him with jests as to the fate they had to fear. One day, after making some rather malicious remarks about the marshal of the court, he added: "After all, though, Biälke is the wisest of us, for he is taking advantage of the present time to settle down; he is making a wealthy marriage, and when we are in prison, I flatter myself that he will have pity on us, and send us every now and then some good soup." At another dinner, Brandt began talking about the proposition of September 29 of all flying together, and asked each of the guests what profession he would choose to gain a livelihood. The queen said that she would turn singer; and, indeed, she had a very agreeable voice. Struensee said that he would take a distant farm, and live on it as a philosopher. Brandt proposed to carry on, on his own account, his trade as manager of a theatre; "and you, my fair lady," he added to one of the guests, "cannot fail to succeed; with your form, you need only offer yourself as a model at an academy." The lady was certainly very beautiful, but hid with a great deal of art a defect in her shape, which she thought no one knew.[7] Still, these anxieties which Brandt treated so gaily in company, affected him, nevertheless, in secret. "I wish all this would come to an end," he said one day to Falckenskjold, "for I have a foreboding that this government will speedily be overthrown." "You will fare badly if it is," Falckenskjold answered. "Oh!" said Brandt, with a flash of his old levity, "as far as that is concerned, I have studied law, and shall be able to answer for myself."[8] About this time, Brandt received another anonymous letter in the same handwriting as the first:--