The Chekhov story I'd most like Romney to read (not that it would matter)

Might we call On Official Business Chekhov's most political story? Not in the restrictive sense of electoral politics but in the broader sense of a "political world" - or - put another way: This is the Chekhov story I'd most like Romney and his legion of plutocrat, selfish, narrow-minded followers to read. On the surface, the story is about two men: a middle-aged doctor and a coroner in his 20s, who are called out during a winter blizzard to examine a corpse: a man who seems to have shot himself in a public lodging in a remote village. There's a suspicion that the man may be a murder victim. His death in a public place is so disturbing that the villagers are all afraid to go out in the dark lest they come across his wandering spirit. Well, this has all the set-up of a great mystery story, and we definitely expect that the narrative will include an examination of the corpse and perhaps some startling discoveries that change our view of the case. Not to be. The two men arrive late, having lost their way in the blizzard, and they'll have to stay the night and being the examination in the morning. The doctor, distressed by the rough conditions of the public lodging, gets a carriage to take him off to the home of a friend nearby; the coroner stays, and beds down in rough quarters, after talking to the "beadle," who will help them with the case - a very impoverished man fallen on hard times. The doc, though, returns and insists on taking the younger coroner to stay at his friend's estate: they arrive, it's pretty late, they get a good meal, entertainment, nice lodgings. And then the heart of the story: the coroner, who had been lamenting his assignment to a remote province, has an insight and realizes that his concerns are petty, that every privilege he enjoys is made possible by the sufferings of people like the beadle and others, who live lives of difficult service: there's a very striking image of the beadle and others trudging across a snowy plain, chanting: We walk, walk, walk. Yes, the drudgery of some enables the luxuriance of others - and the others think they deserve their status in life through no reason other than birth and good fortune. As one of Romney's coterie apparently said: We're VIPs. Oh, sure. Read this story and think about it. By they way, the story ends with no conclusion to the suicide/murder issue - the two men head back to the village in village in the morning to begin their examination. The point is - that's not the point.