Poprishchin says he went to the office and sharpened exactly twenty-three pens for the director and four for his daughter.
He again starts to think about how smart the director must be and what kind of a refined life he must lead.
Then Poprishchin starts to write in his diary that he likes to peek into the drawing room in the director's house, where he sees another door opening into what he believes is his daughter's room. He says he wishes he could see into her bedroom and starts to fantasize about all the things he would see in there. Great, it turns out we are reading the diary of a creep—er, madman. But, really, Poprishchin seems at worst like a fool and a creep rather than a madman at this point.
Poprishchin then does something that he has done a few times before in his diary: he cuts himself short by saying "never mind, never mind, silence." Sounds like he's having some unmentionable thoughts and tells himself, "Don't go there…"
Poprishchin writes that he has decided to get hold of the letters the dogs have been writing each other. He says he cornered Medji once and asked her to tell him everything she knows about the director's daughter, but the dog just put her tail between her legs and walked out the door.
Poprishchin says that he thinks dogs are smarter than humans. (We do love us a pug or two, but really, P?)