'May the melody also be,' said she, 'one in which a slave may be well displayed.' '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 tthis proposal. The 'Hope of Tina,' a melody of Cos whuch would surely be popular with most of the fellows present, 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 femine, and marvelous, that she will prove acceptable as a slave.
'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.

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 that a mere compliance with a masterly whim, even though such whims, for the slave, in many contexts, constitute orders of iron. To be sure, Temione was not a dancer, not in the strict trained sense, but she could move, and marvelously, and so, somehow, she did, swaying before him, and turning, but usually facing him, as though she wished not to miss an expression or an emotion that might cross his countenance. Yet, too, uncompromisingly, she was one with the music, and, particularly in the beginning, with the story, seeming to examine her own charms, timidly, as it, like the 'Tina' of the song, she might be considering her possible merits, whether of not she might qualify for bondage, whether or not she might somehow prove worthy of it, if only, perhaps, by inward compensations of zeal and love, whether or not she might, with some justification, aspire to the collar. Then later it seemed she danced her slavery openly, unabashedly, sensuously, so slowly, and so excitingly, before the men and, in particular, before the burly fellow. Surely now, all doubts resolved, there was no longer a question about the suitability of bondage for such a woman. The collar looked well on her neck. It belonged there. There was no doubt about it. How she looked at the burly fellow! He was now so taken with her he could hardly move. Now the exquisite slut began to sense her power, that of her beauty and desirability. She had determined, I now realized, from the first movement she had leaped to her feet, obedient to the command of her master, Philebus, that she would make test of her womanhood, that she would, courageously, regardless of the consequences, risking contempt and perhaps even punishment, display herself before him, this rude fellow who had once so scorned and tyrannized her as a free woman, as what she now was, ultimately and solely, female and slave. To be sure, she, new to her slavery, had perhaps not fully realized that she had really no chice in the matter but, willingly or not, must do so, and to the best of her ability, in total perfection