On this sunny day, three American presidents, nine secretaries of state, were gawkers, just like everyone else, awed by a sudden turn toward peace. All eyes were on two old enemies, new in the roles as peacemakers, men who say peace “salaam” in Arabic or “shalom” in Hebrew. Their handshake — the grasp by Arab Yasser Arafat of the hand of Jew Yitzhak Rabin — brought a gasp, a shout, applause. Bill Clinton facilitated it, made it necessary. The leader of the Palestine Liberation Organization stood on Clinton’s left, the prime minister of Israel stood at his right. Clinton stepped back, creating a vacuum between his guests. He gestured them together. Arafat stepped into Rabin’s space, hand extended. Rabin hesitated for an instant. The handshake happened. Ararat beamed. Rabin didn’t. Clinton looked pleased. It was solemn, almost pious, this peace treaty-signing ceremony on the lawn Monday, played out between two huge magnolias in back of the White House. But, still, this was Washington, and Washington did what Washington does. Assembled on the lawn an hour earlier, this crowd gossiped, back-slapped, schmoozed and worked the crowd.