The streets of Stresa were polished like a stage set.
Flags flapped in the lakeside breeze France's tricolor, Britain's Union Jack, Italy's green-white-red all side by side, all temporarily pretending they were pointed in the same direction.
The Swiss-Italian border had never seen this many photographers or armored cars.
It was a summit meant to assure the world that Europe still had a spine.
Inside the Grand Hotel des Îles Borromées, sunlight bounced off marble pillars and crystal chandeliers as a string quartet played Debussy in the lobby.
Outside, the locals watched as government sedans and police motorcycles rolled up to the grand entrance.
Prime Minister Flandin stepped out first, adjusting his dark overcoat.
Inside, Benito Mussolini stood perfectly still in full ceremonial dress.
He looked like a statue carved to intimidate.
Black gloves, polished boots, chest crowded with medals he'd given himself.
He greeted each delegation with a stiff nod.
France first.
