SVETLANA KHORKINA glided into the hall as a queen might enter her royal court. The eyes contained no trace of warmth, just an aristocratic disinterest in all they surveyed. Russia’s most successful gymnast was not in the mood for an interview. She had to train, she explained wearily.

No matter that it was the second time in two days that I had made the 140 kilometres round trip from Moscow to the national gymnastics centre at Ozoretskoe for an audience with the country’s most famous sports star. No matter that she had been absent the previous day or that I had a flight back to London that afternoon. These were no concerns of hers.

For one horrible moment, it seemed that her yoghurt commercial that had appeared on the television minutes before would be the closest I would get to the 25-year-old. Yet all monarchs have the power of clemency. Perhaps it was the panic on my face, or the boyish charm of my translator, but the ice queen melted. She would grant a few minutes, she declared, as she wrapped her muscular legs under her body to perch on a chair.

The first thing to strike you about Khorkina is her height. At 5ft 4in, she is a giant in a world of 4ft-high pygmies. The second is her raw beauty. This month, she will grace the sporting world with her last Olympic performance. The swansong of gymnastics’ own Odette is eagerly awaited.

Striving to be judged alongside Olga Korbut and Nadia Comaneci, Khorkina has the all-round gold medal in sight. It is the one thing in a ten-year career to elude her. Furthermore, she aims to become the first gymnast to win the same apparatus title (asymmetric bars) at three consecutive Olympics. “That’s why I am training for the Games probably harder than ever,” she said. “I will go there absolutely prepared and if I don’t win, I shall accept that.”

Just as she “accepted” missing out on the all-round gold medal in Sydney four years ago during a week of melodrama? Then, through tear-sodden mascara, Khorkina contemptuously waved away grovelling officials offering her a second attempt at the vault after they had mistakenly set it five centimetres too low and caused her to fall on her face. The Russian had seemed anything but accepting of a public humiliation that cost her all-time greatness.

“It stung for a while but I have taken something from every competition,” she said. “You have to. You can’t survive for long without adapting and learning.” Khorkina’s first lesson in life was that she knew best. The first-born daughter of Lyubov and Vassily was desperate to become a gymnast but, because of her size, was ushered by her coaches into rhythmic gymnastics. She lasted just a year before going back to her first love. Thirteen gold medals in Olympic, world and European competitions prove she was right. It is a position that the reigning world and European champion was made for: being right; being the best. She has no time for second place.

When asked about the prospects of Beth Tweddle, Great Britain’s Olympic hope who won silver in the European Championships, Khorkina could not sound more superior. “I don’t know what’s she’s been doing in training but to be very blunt with you she did not win gold in the Europeans,” she said. “Why should she expect more in the Olympics? But I wish her all the luck in the world and I hope she does well.” To hear the tone of that last sentence, you would know that she meant entirely the opposite.

Khorkina’s egocentricity transcends gymnastics. She has already turned her hand to the theatre, playing Venus, who at the age of 27 became the final lover of an 85-year-old Henry Miller. She was really rather good, even if she says so herself.

“I am so artistic that I believe I could play anyone on earth,” she pronounced with all the modesty of someone who knows that she is as good as people say she is. “I don’t think it’s completely serious as a career option but if people tell you that you have a talent, why shouldn’t you exploit it? The reviews have been good.”

Unlike the pre-pubescent girls that play her supporting cast, “Sveta” is all woman. Just to prove it, she stripped off for Russian Playboy. In a sport where 18 is considered over the hill, she has broken all the rules. “Age isn’t important to me. You know they say a man sometimes prefers older women because they can satisfy him more. It’s the same in gymnastics,” she said. “Year by year some, like me, have become better. There is a place for women as well as girls.”

In Moscow’s hip hang-outs, she smokes, drinks and gives drooling suitors false hope that they stand a chance. The person who once said she wanted to “be recognised from half a mile away” is a national icon. She revels in the limelight. “It’s something I’ve grown up with and accept,” she said. “But once the career fades, I may become nothing and cease being the centre of attention. Who knows, I may even enjoy it. I don’t know because I’ve never tried it.”

That seems unlikely. After Athens, there will be global exhibition tours — she admits a lack of patience for coaching — and the possibility of more fringe theatre work. But centre stage is where Khorkina belongs. “I am unique. I don’t think there’s anybody to touch me and when I am gone gymnastics will go back to what it was before,” she said. “That’s why people are always trying to persuade me to carry on. They know it too. But if I retire, I can always come back. You might think that (it is difficult) but I know what I’m capable of. Nothing’s impossible.”

With that, Khorkina skipped off to training, turning to wave goodbye with an unexpectedly disarming smile. The girl within was momentarily revealed and another loyal subject won. Long may she reign over us.