Pierre continually glanced at Prince Andrew; Prince Andrew rubbed his forehead with his small hand.
Halfway through supper Prince Andrew leaned his elbows on the table and, with a look of nervous agitation such as Pierre had never before seen on his face, began to talk- as one who has long had something on his mind and suddenly determines to speak out.
"My wife," continued Prince Andrew, "is an excellent woman, one of those rare women with whom a man's honor is safe; but, O God, what would I not give now to be unmarried!
As he said this Prince Andrew was less than ever like that Bolkonski who had lolled in Anna Pavlovna's easy chairs and with half-closed eyes had uttered French phrases between his teeth.
I am very amiable and have a caustic wit," continued Prince Andrew, "and at Anna Pavlovna's they listen to me.
He considered his friend a model of perfection because Prince Andrew possessed in the highest degree just the very qualities Pierre lacked, and which might be best described as strength of will.
"My part is played out," said Prince Andrew. "What's the use of talking about me?
Prince Andrew looked kindly at him, yet his glance- friendly and affectionate as it was- expressed a sense of his own superiority.
"I don't understand it," replied Prince Andrew. "Women who are comme il faut, that's a different matter; but the Kuragins' set of women,
Pierre was staying at Prince Vasili Kuragin's and sharing the dissipated life of his son Anatole, the son whom they were planning to reform by marrying him to Prince Andrew's sister.