Click here to watch Zarkava win the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe

In fond memory, the great Arc days are never dank and blustery and nor do they begin with a French farce of a false start. But if little else in Paris yesterday was fit for the sepia scrapbook, the victory of Zarkava ranks with the finest this great raceday has produced.

She came with dizzy reputation and she came unbeaten. Ripe, many believed, for deflation, a suspicion that hardened as the morning brought speculation that she would defect due to softened ground. That, and fears about her inside draw and her stalls conduct, allowed her to start at a generous 11-4 on Betfair.

Zarkava neither knew nor cared about such misgivings. The Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, coveted by all Europe, had long been her destiny and she was not about to mislay it now.

Having sat patiently on the rail for a mile, Christophe Soumillon smuggled her through a packed field he later described as “like bumper cars”, led on schedule and began his uninhibited celebrations even as the gallant Youmzain, two lengths adrift, claimed the runner-up berth for a second successive year.

The winning trainer is Alain de Royer-Dupré, who has the clerical bearing of a French John Oxx, and the owner is the Aga Khan, whose breeding dictates a patrician calm. Soumillon is their counterpoint, a one-man fireworks display when stirred by triumph.

He turned to taunt his beaten colleagues with “where are you?” gestures, then repeatedly slapped his hand against his heart and blew kisses to the crowd. Still not sated, he hurled his helmet into the stands and, entering the enclosures, stood and punched the air so fiercely he might have thrown himself from the irons.

The Belgian is a showman and a show-off but he is also undeniably brilliant. “I was never worried about what might happen today, I always knew she was on top of her form,” he said. “When she came into the straight going so easily, it was the best moment of my life.”

It is fair to assume that Johnny Murtagh felt rather different. This has been a stellar summer for Murtagh and the five group one wins of Duke Of Marmalade were indelible milestones that convinced him to ride that colt here.

A year ago, in the minutes before the race, Kieren Fallon confided his fears that he had chosen the wrong one of the Ballydoyle pair and that he should have been on Soldier Of Fortune. Dylan Thomas dispelled his doubts but Murtagh, yesterday, enjoyed no such vindication. By halfway, he surely sensed the fire had gone out of his horse.

By their own standards, this had already been a bleak French weekend for Aidan O'Brien's team, with Yeats, Mastercraftsman and a couple of fillies in the Prix de l'Opera all running well below expectations. Duke Of Marmalade joined the list, though Soldier Of Fortune shared third place with the long-priced German runner, Its Gino.

At least O'Brien knows what it is to win the Arc. Sir Michael Stoute, who may be thought his British equivalent, still finds it eluding him and this year's contenders, Ask and Papal Bull, managed only sixth and twelfth. Godolphin, producer of the last British-trained winner in 2002, fared even worse, with Schiaparelli beating just three home.

And so, once again, it was left to Youmzain to uphold British pride. Victory for him would have been a story to savour, with his trainer, Mick Channon, still confined to home by the after-effects of his injuries in a fatal car crash. The silver medal was still rich consolation (£672,000 worth) and Richard Hills, the jockey, confirmed: “If anything, he's better than last year.”

Better, maybe, but left in the shadows of Soumillon and a truly great filly - the first of her sex to win the Arc in 15 years. Royer-Dupré, summing up as if reading the parish notices, remarked that she can be “a bit of a maniac” at home. But on a racecourse, he observed, she is “out of this world”.

The Aga has been here before, of course, first with Sinndar and then Dalakhani, but this, he said eloquently, was “the apogee of the exercise” for an owner-breeder.

He ruled out another run this season and will take time to consider retirement. He may conclude there can be no finer farewell than the illumination of a grey Paris day.