After tucking away the first penalty, he allowed himself what can only be described as an outburst of mild jubilation; and next to the mayhem around him at the very end, his demeanour was that of a monk who had escaped from a monastery for the afternoon, thinning hair and contemplative mien giving the game away.

Yet Zidane was at the centre of nearly everything of substance in France's game, and will almost certainly be directing traffic with similar insouciance in the semi-final in the same wonderful setting on Wednesday night. If the hosts return there on Sunday for the final, well, Zidane might even shave for the occasion.

Ithas been said of him that he lacks heart, an accusation that does not bounce off him as easily as some of the desperate tackles that come his way. "To be honest," he said beforehand, "I believe I am at my best in really important matches."

The criticism comes from observers uncomfortable with statistics: three times Zidane has been a loser in European finals. But there is a professional hardness in him that team-mates in the national side and at Juventus would vouch for. He is a touchstone for both, certainly France's biggest inspiration.

Italy's Juve defenders whom he tormented on Friday, Gianluca Pessotto and Angelo Di Livio, who replaced Pessotto for extra time, know that Zidane's strength is in his guile rather than mere muscle, although he carries a frame of considerable physical presence.

In this quarter-final it was easy to forecast a clash of styles and temperaments between Zidane and his other Juventus team-mate, Alessandro Del Piero. After all, the Italian prodigy has thrived alongside him inSerie A and this was a stage on which they had the chance to prove at least a personal point as to who was the bigger influence. It was no contest.

Control, however, is the one commodity that deserted him earlier in the tournament when he walked all over the prone Amin Fuad Anwar of Saudi Arabia in the first round and was banned for two matches - punishment that might have crippled France's campaign. Is he like the duck on the pond, floating serenely while paddling furiously beneath the surface?

From the very opening, Zidane was driving France. He might have scored in the third minute, running clear down the right and putting a firm shot low and just across the goal. Thereafter, he gave Christian Karembeu chance after chance, all wasted; he supplied a range of tantalising possession wide to Emmanuel Petit, charging from behind, and down the slim middle channels the Italians occasionally left open.

It was a consummate performance. Zidane was irrepressible, totally in control of the rhythm of the game,against the best slow players in the world. Then, revelling in the freedom that Del Piero must have craved at the other end of the field, Zidane roamed at will, dropping deep to pick up the cultured passing out of defence from Laurent Blanc, linking down the left with Bixente Lizarazu and teasing passes into gaps further forward that, sadly, France's front men remained incapable of turning into goals.

All the while, Zidane motored over the turf without fuss, content to put jabs into the Italians rather than open them up for a knockout.

Maybe he should dig into that Mediterranean character more often. He needs spark in his game to be truly dominant, as pretty a sight as his embroidery is in an often sterile environment.

The player Zidane is some times compared with is Enzo Francescoli, the striker who captained Uruguay in the 1986 and 1990 finals and who once played for Olympique de Marseille, Zidane's home town, and is now with River Plate.

"When Juventus beat us 1-0 in the World Club Championship inTokyo in 1996," Francescoli recalls, "Zidane told me I was his model player, that I inspired him, particularly when I played for Marseille (in the 1990-91 season), which was very moving. What do I think of Zidane? Simple. He is the man.