"A block melody?" asked the flutist, addressing his question to Philebus.
"No," said Philebus, "nothing so sensuous. Rather, say, the "Hope of Tina."
Approval from the crowd met this proposal. The reference to "block melodies" had to do with certain melodies which are commonly used in slave markets, in the display of the merchandise. Some were apparantly developed for the purpose, and others simply utilized for it. Such melodies tend to be sexually stimulating, and powerfully so, both for the merchandise being vended, who must dance to them, and for the buyers. It is a joke of young Goreans to sometimes whistle, or hum, such melodies, apparantly innocently, in the presence of free women who, of course are not familiar with them, and do not understand their origins or significance, and then to watch them become restless, and, usually, after a time, disturbed and apprehensive, hurry away. Such women, of course, will doubtless recall such melodies, and at last understand the joke, if they find themselves naked on the sales block, in house collars, dancing to them. Such women, free women, interestingly, even when they do not fully understand such melodies, are fascinated with them and try to learn them. Such melodies, in a sense, call out to them. They hum them to themselves. They sing them in private, and so on. Too, not unoften, on one level or another, they begin to grow careless of their security and safety; they begin, in one way or another, to court the collar. The "Hope of Tina", a melody of Cos which would surely be popular with most of the fellows present, on the other hand, was an excellent choice. It was supposedly the expression of the yearning, or hope, of a young girl that she may be so beautiful, and so feminine, and marvelous, that she will prove acceptable as a slave. As Temione was from Cos I had little doubt that she would be familiar with the melody. To be sure, it did not have something of the sensuousness of a block melody about it. Yet I thought, even so, she would probably know it. It was the sort of melody of which free women often claim to be completely ignorant but, when pressed, prove to be familiar, surprisingly perhaps, with its every note.
"Why do you wish to dance before me?" asked the burly fellow of the slave.
"Did Master not wish to see a woman dance?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Surely then," she said, "that is reason enough."
He regarded her, puzzled. It was clear he did not recall her, but also clear, for he was no fool, that he suspected more was afoot than a mere compliance with a masterly whim, even though such whims, for the slave, in many contexts, constitute orders of iron. "Why do you wish to dance?" he asked.
"Perhaps," she said, "it is that a master be pleased, perhaps it is simply that I am a slave."
I saw Philebus' hand tighten on the handle of the whip.
"Do I know you?" asked Borton.
"I think not, Master," she said, truthfully enough. She put her hands over her head, her wrists back to back.
"She is beautiful," said a fellow.
"Dance, slave," said Philebus.
"Ah!" cried men.
