The displays told in letters, photos and museum placards the story of Heinrich Winslow, who had owned a large construction firm in Nazi Germany and used his powerful position to save more than seven hundred Jews from being shipped off to concentration camps. It was all eerily similar to that of Oskar Schindler’s “List.” It made me wonder how many other ordinary German citizens had dared to defy Hitler and the Nazis.

Heinrich’s life had recently been the subject of a History Channel special, and I assumed that unexpected coup would bring even more interest to the exhibit.

I strolled along the rows, checking out the other books in the Winslow collection, notably the 1812 first edition of the Grimm brothers’ fairy tales with its elegant, hand-painted illustrations, and several of Wagner’s original opera scores with his notes penciled in the margins.

There were also letters from Holocaust victims and survivors along with photographs from that time. The presentation was emotional and disturbing, yet uplifting at the same time.

Despite the subject matter, the crowd was vivacious and friendly. The music soared above the hullabaloo of conversation, and the food and alcohol flowed.

It had been more than an hour since I’d last seen Abraham, so I decided to venture downstairs to view the Faust. After stopping to refresh my wine, I slipped down a quiet hall to find the ladies’ room and freshen my lipstick.

Revived and refreshed, I passed the alcove that led to the public telephones and heard a man whisper heatedly, “That lousy son of a bitch won’t get away with this.”

“Please don’t do anything foolish,” a woman said, her voice simmering with worry.

“I never do anything foolish,” he said. “I leave that to you women.”

“Oh, Daddy,” a younger woman said, her voice high and whiny.

“Unfortunately, dear, Daddy’s right,” the older woman said. “Let’s not forget how this fiasco got started.”